Yes, totally different experiences. Flying in this bitty plane reminded her of the creaky carnival rides that would squat for a few days in the Wal-Mart parking lot back in Tennessee. She’d squirrel away money in anticipation of those rides and become totally hyper with excitement when the trucks pulled in and started unloading.
The traveling carnival was the biggest thing that came to her part of the woods. Yet every year, when the moment arrived to climb aboard the Tilt-a-Wheel or the Loop-the-Loop, she’d look at the rusty bolts and peeling paint and wonder if the thrill was worth the risk. She was wondering the same thing right now.
She couldn’t see rusty bolts or peeling paint, but the plane still seemed very flimsy to be this high in the air. When she finally opened her eyes she looked out, not down, but the scraps of land scattered in an expanse of bright sea reaching out to the horizon didn’t make for a reassuring view.
Maybe it was the parachute in the backseat that had spooked her. A parachute in the backseat made her think of bailing out, a horrible thought she hadn’t allowed in her brain until she’d seen it. No one would end up bailing out, of course, and they were only island hopping, anyway. Even if they had a problem, they could probably find a place to land.
She glanced at Nick’s handsome profile. “How long does the flight take?”
“Oh, not much longer.” He didn’t look back at her. She hoped he hadn’t noticed how frightened she’d been, and she really hoped he hadn’t noticed Jackson trying to comfort her. She should have pulled her hand away sooner, but she’d been too scared and his steady grip had made her feel safer.
No question, she needed to find Jackson a girlfriend. For all she knew, he could be one of those guys with a natural talent for lovemaking and the misfortune of not packaging himself right. There were enough bad lovers out there as it was, and she hated to see a good one going to waste because he didn’t know how to dress.
Jackson could pick up some pointers from Nick, if he’d pay attention. She glanced at Nick again and noticed his jaw was clenched. Poor man. He thought the only way to get rid of his loneliness was with these one-night stands. How wrong he was.
“Hey, Nick,” Jackson said. “I may be all wet, but looking at the position of the sun, I would swear we’re headed west.”
“We are, temporarily,” Nick said.
“Why’s that?” Jackson asked.
Genevieve noticed Nick’s frown and couldn’t blame him for being irritated that this man who’d admitted he couldn’t fly was questioning their direction. Jackson really was a pain in the butt. She spoke above the drone of the engines. “Don’t you think Nick knows how to get to Maui? He’s been there a jillion times.”
Jackson held his ground. “I realize that, but we’ve been flying west for some time now. I’m sorry, but that doesn’t make sense to me.”
“It will,” Nick said.
“Of course it will,” Genevieve said. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride.” Unfortunately, Jackson had brought up a good point, though. The sun was behind them, not ahead of them, so they were heading west, which meant Maui was getting farther away with every mile they flew in this direction. She’d been too involved in calming herself down to think about it, but now that she was trying to figure out what was going on, she was having trouble coming up with a logical explanation.
Nick had been worried about getting to his meeting on time. She glanced at her watch to discover the meeting would take place in less than twenty minutes. They should have landed by now.
“Okay, Brogan,” Jackson said. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but by my calculations we’re way off course. You may not mind missing your meeting, but Matt’s counting on me to spread some goodwill at Aloha Pineapple. That’s a big account, and if—”
“Don’t worry about Aloha Pineapple.” Nick consulted the instrument panel and took off his headset again.
Genevieve’s mild uneasiness bloomed into a churning insecurity. “Nick, Jackson’s right. Losing that account would be rough on the company.” She swallowed. “And since we’re not going toward Maui, I’m beginning to wonder where you’re taking us.”
Nick reached under his seat and pulled out a very black, extremely ugly gun.
Genevieve gasped. The loud drone of the engine blended with the panicked rush of blood in her ears, deafening her.
Calmly, almost tenderly, Nick put the barrel of the gun against Jackson’s temple. “Hands behind the seat, Farley.” As Jackson complied, Nick pulled a hammer from somewhere beside him.
Genevieve screamed, afraid he was going to bash Jackson over the head. Instead he glanced quickly at the instrument panel before using the hammer on a section of it.
“There goes the radio,” Jackson said in a monotone.
“Bright boy,” Nick said. “Genevieve, hand me the parachute.”
Nick’s intention filled her with horror. He was going to bail out and leave her here with Jackson. Leave them to die. But if she didn’t give him the parachute, he’d shoot Jackson and she’d be all alone.
Genevieve opened her mouth to ask Nick why he was doing this horrible thing and discovered she couldn’t control her vocal cords. Nothing came out but a paralyzed squeak. Why, oh, why hadn’t she listened to her mama?
“The chute, Genevieve,” Nick reminded her quietly. “And I’d advise both of you not to try being a hero. If either of you makes a false move, I’ll pull the trigger and Farley’s exceptional brain will be splattered all over this cockpit.”
Trembling, Genevieve handed the parachute up to Nick. Then she watched in paralyzed fascination as he put it on, switching his gun to the other hand but always managing to keep the barrel pressed against Jackson’s temple. Genevieve tried to think of what she could do, but any sudden move seemed doomed. Nick had obviously thought this out very carefully. Once he started shooting, they’d be worse off than they were now.
“Here’s how this will go,” Nick said. “The engines are set on idle, so you two will glide quite a distance before you finally go down. We’ll all just…disappear.”
At last Genevieve managed one strangled word. “Why?”
“Because it’s time for me to get my share.”
She struggled with the words, trying to make sense of them. “I don’t understand.”
“I do.” Jackson’s voice was tight. “I’ll bet he’s been stealing from the company and socking it away in some offshore account. Now he’s going to fake his death and live the high life under a different name.”
Nick smiled, looking proud of himself. “You always were a bright boy, Farley.”
“I can’t say the same for you, Brogan. Trying to parachute into the ocean isn’t very smart.”
“I know what I’m doing. I always do.”
“You stole from Matt?” Shock still had Genevieve in its grip. She was having trouble assimilating the fact that her dream man, her future husband and father of her children, was a thieving, murdering scum-bucket.
“Matt’s in my way, and his financial problems aren’t my fault. I never intended to make Rainbow my life’s work. However, I have to admit when I planned this, I didn’t think Matt would end up losing one of his top engine guys.”
“He’ll also lose Genevieve, you son of a bitch.” Jackson’s voice was heavy with anger.
“Well, yes, but there are lots of secretaries in the world. You’ll be much harder to replace.”
His casual disregard for her life cleared the shock from Genevieve’s mind. Damn it, she hadn’t made it this far in life to die at the hands of a psycho. She’d handled some rough characters back in the Hollow, guys who got really mean when they were liquored up. Maybe she could talk him out of it.
“Nick,” she began, then had to stop and clear her throat. She clenched her hands and tried to stop shaking. “I have a better idea.”
“I doubt it. I’ve been planning this for months, and I’ve thought of everything.” He unfastened his seat belt and eased himself out of the cockpit while keeping the gun
trained on Jackson. “Now, neither of you make any funny moves.”
“But I do have a better idea,” Genevieve said. “Wherever you’re going, take us with you.”
“I don’t need you.” He kept the gun on Jackson until he’d moved between the seats, headed for the door. Then he pivoted and pointed the gun right in her face.
She nearly passed out. “Of c-course you do. You’ll n-need a cook, a housekeeper, someone to warm your bed.” She gave him what she hoped was a melting look of passion.
“Nice try, but I’ll have millions of dollars. I think I can find people to do those things.” His eyes glittered. “And even if I took you along as my little love slave, I’d have no reason to include Farley, there. I’d have to shoot him after we landed. Would that be okay with you?”
She shrugged. Once they landed the plane, she could figure out how to keep this maniac from shooting Jackson.
“Interesting,” Nick said. “It would almost be worth doing, just to see if you’d abandon your friend Farley to save your own skin.” He paused. “But I can’t risk it, sweet-cheeks.” Still holding the gun on her, he glanced quickly at his watch. “Whoops, we’re out of time.”
Genevieve fought down panic. She had to make him land this plane. “I give great blow jobs!”
Nick laughed. “Wish I had the time to check that out.” He continued to aim the gun right between her eyes as he reached behind him to unlatch the cabin door.
“Jackson!” Genevieve shouted above the rushing noise coming from the open door. “We have to do something to stop him!”
“We can’t!” Jackson shouted back. “He’s crazy!”
“You’re going to give up, just like that?” Her opinion of Jackson went down several notches.
“He can’t save you.” Nick smiled. “But maybe you’d like to treat him to one of those blow jobs. You two will have a little time on your hands. Well, so long!” He jumped.
Terrified, she looked away from the gaping entry into nothingness. This was way too much like a movie with Harrison Ford, except she wasn’t in a plane with Harrison, she was in a plane with Jackson Farley, who didn’t know jack-shit about flying planes. The bad guy had really left them to die, and they might have to go ahead and die, since this was not a movie.
Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might explode at any minute. If it did, so what? She was as good as dead, anyway.
Chapter Four
At the first sign of trouble, Jackson tried to think his way through this mess. Thinking was hard when Brogan had the barrel of that nasty gun pressed against his temple. Jackson had spent a lot of time sweating.
He’d thought about trying to disarm the guy, but in a small area like this a bullet could ricochet. Genevieve could get shot, even if the gun wasn’t pointed in her direction. Wrestling Brogan for the gun didn’t seem like the way to go.
Instead Jackson concentrated on the plane’s instrument panel. Thank God he hadn’t told Brogan that he’d flown simulations, or he’d have a bullet through his brain right now. Instead, he and Genevieve had a chance. Not a big chance, but a chance.
The jerk finally leaped, and Jackson could only hope there was a shark down below with a taste for certified asshole. But he didn’t have time to waste thinking about Brogan’s fate. He moved to the pilot’s seat.
“Come on up here!” he called out to Genevieve.
When he got no response, he turned to discover that she was frozen in place, her eyes buggy with terror. He was pretty damned scared himself, but letting her know wouldn’t help the situation.
“Don’t worry!” he shouted. “I think I can fly this thing!”
“B-but you said—”
“I know! But I’ve flown computer simulations!”
She reached out a hand toward him, and he leaned back to grab it. Gripping his hand and keeping her gaze fastened on his, she made it up to the cockpit, but she didn’t relinquish his hand as she settled into the copilot’s seat.
He decided they needed something to break the tension. “Do you really give great blow jobs?”
She stared at him.
“That was a joke! I know what you were trying to do, and it was a great idea.”
“Oh.” She swallowed.
“For what it’s worth, I think he was a fool not to take you up on your offer.”
“Do you…really think you can fly this?”
“Yes.” He wasn’t the least bit sure. The instrument panel was similar to one he’d seen in a simulation, but not identical. All the same, he’d never been in such a perfect position to be a hero in front of a woman he wanted to impress. The stakes were a little higher than he would have liked, but he couldn’t do anything about that.
“So you could turn us around and get us back to Honolulu?”
“I’m not totally sure I could do that, but I’ll bet I can get us on the ground somewhere.” He glanced down at her hand clutching his. “If you turn me loose, that is. I do my best work with my right hand.”
“Oh!” She released him immediately and there were red marks on the back of his hand where her nails had been. “I’m so sorry!”
“Not a problem.” Jackson flexed his hand and leaned forward to peer at the instrument panel. “Flying out over the Pacific with the gas gauge getting low, now that’s a problem.”
“It’s getting low?” She strained against her seat belt to look where he was looking.
“You have a set of gauges, too.” He pointed them out because he’d just realized how distracting it would be to have her hover close like that. Here they were in a life-and-death situation, and he was still mulling over her line about the blow job.
Promising sex to Brogan had been a reasonable bargaining chip, and obviously she’d only said that thing about the blow job to get his attention. It hadn’t worked on Brogan, but Jackson couldn’t stop thinking about it. He wondered if Genevieve would have said that regardless of whether she was good at the activity. Probably. Then again…
“The gas is low,” she said. “The way Nick was talking, I thought we’d be going along on idle for a long time.”
“Airplane gas is expensive.” He put his hands loosely on the wheel. “He probably didn’t want to waste any more than he had to. We’re already far enough out that we’d be hard to find.”
“But we’re not going down, because you’re going to turn us around and get us back to land.”
“Yeah.” Now was not the time to tell her he’d crashed the simulator a few times.
“We’re heading toward some clouds.”
“I know.” He had to get them turned before they reached the clouds. Flying on instruments was another whole thing, and he’d never worked on that.
“Tarnation, Jackson! You’re slower than a coon dog with a full belly. Start flying!”
Despite their treacherous circumstances, he grinned. “What did you say?”
“I said get the lead out!”
“No, I mean the part about me being slower than a coon dog with a full belly.” Okay, he had the basics figured out. He could do this. But he was nervous as hell, and talking about coon dogs helped.
“I suppose we might die together, so it doesn’t matter if you know. I spent the first fifteen years of my life living in the backwoods of Tennessee. I mean the back backwoods.”
“Really?” Sure enough, he’d been right about her. There was more to Genevieve Terrence than met the eye, although what met the eye was wonderful enough.
“Yes, really. But I’d appreciate it if we could save the discussion of my roots for another time so that you can concentrate on flying this plane.”
“I am concentrating.” He took the plane out of idle and gripped the wheel. This was it. He was flying this hunk of metal. “But if you’d talk to me about those backwoods days, it would keep me from hyperventilating while I concentrate.”
“Lord in heaven, you’re scared.”
“Some.” He turned the wheel and a gust of wind must have hit them, because the plane bucke
d.
Genevieve screamed.
“We’re okay.” His stomach knotted, but he kept turning the wheel a little at a time while he kept adjusting the altitude. “Talk to me, Gen.”
“Are we going to die?”
“Not if I can help it. Tell me about Tennessee.”
“Granny Neville died in a plane crash. They couldn’t find enough of her to fill a casket. They ended up stuffing one of her outfits with old rags so it would look like there was somebody in there during the viewing. They found a picture of her face and stuck that on a honeydew.”
“That wasn’t the kind of anecdote I had in mind.” The right wing cut through cottony wisps of clouds. He was turning barely in time to avoid the muscular-looking clouds they’d been heading toward. “Do you have any stories that don’t involve people being dismembered in a plane crash?”
“Well, there was the time Uncle Rufus heard a noise outside his cabin and went out to investigate in his ridge runners. Turns out the—”
“Hold it. What’s a ridge runner?” Finally the nose of the plane pointed east, toward the morning sun. He saw a sliver of brown on the far horizon and headed for that.
“Is that land up ahead?”
“Looks like it.” He didn’t want to think about the landing part of this gig. Landing on a normal paved runway was tough enough for beginners, but landing on uneven ground was damned near impossible for someone who’d never flown a real plane before. “What’s a ridge runner?”
“Long johns. They’re usually red. At least all the ones my relatives wear are red. Or they start out that way, but eventually they become sort of flesh colored, which is probably what the ones were that Uncle Rufus had on that night. The man hated breaking in a new pair of ridge runners. He claimed the seams rubbed his privates raw.”
Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Genevieve Terrence would have such stories to tell. And they were the perfect thing to keep his mind off the ordeal ahead of them. “So how come you call them ridge runners?”
“Because when the revenuers show up trying to arrest you for operating a still, they like to come in the middle of the night, so naturally you have to take off across the ridges wearing your long johns because there’s no time to put on your clothes.”
Nerd in Shining Armor (The Nerd Series Book 1) Page 5
