Owen took the knife and freed her, then searched Gregor, took back his weapon, and tied his hands behind his back. Then he zip tied each ankle to a wrist. “That ought to hold him.”
He looked through the window into the hangar area. Empty. He grabbed Miranda’s arms and kissed her once, for luck. “Don’t take any more chances. One of us has to make it out of here. If you can get to the plane, take off. They won’t be expecting that. As soon as you’re up, radio for help. You can fly it, Miranda, I know you can.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I’m not leaving without you. We need to find Hank, too. Quit wasting time trying to convince me.”
He blew out an exasperated breath. “All right. We may only have seconds to get airborne. While we have the chance, we need to turn the plane around. I should have done that as soon as I landed.”
They raced across the hangar to the side door. Owen opened it a crack. “Looks clear. Let’s turn the plane, then we’ll look for Hank.”
He bolted through the door and ran to the plane, Miranda hot on his heels.
Miranda skidded to a stop and gaped at Arnold Courtenay lying unconscious on the ground. She looked at Owen.
He shrugged. “The man was annoying me.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Come on,” Owen urged.
They both went to the tail and began to drag it around.
Miranda heard it first. Arianna. The Bimbo Princess was sobbing and screaming.
“You can’t hurt him, Mother. I love him and he loves me.”
Miranda and Owen froze as the Jansen woman pushed Hank ahead of her down the path from the house toward the hangar. She had her gun at his back.
“Oh, you stupid, stupid girl. He doesn’t love you. He loves your money. Can’t you see that? It’s a time-honored tradition in Britain. Most of the nobility are poor as church mice, so they marry heiresses and swap a title for a fortune.”
“Not Hank, Mother. He loves me!” Arianna wailed and grabbed her mother’s arm.
“You selfish, spoiled, brat!” She slapped her daughter with her free hand.
It was all the opening Hank needed. He grabbed Eva’s arm and tried to wrestle the gun from her.
Owen and Miranda tore around the plane and ran to help. The report from the pistol was loud. Any minute Arnold Courtenay’s wife would come out to see what was going on. Miranda shoved Arianna out of the way, while Owen managed to get a choke hold on the Jansen woman. Another shot, and she collapsed on the ground, blood spurting from a hole above her elbow. Hank tucked her gun in his belt.
Miranda sneered at her. “Hmpf. Looks arterial. Maybe you’ll die.”
Owen grabbed her arm. “Come on.”
Eva glared at her. “You think you’re so smart? If I don’t contact the aide who’s helping your mother in thirty minutes, she’ll kill them both. If I were you, I’d keep me alive until then.”
Miranda stumbled at that news, and Owen dragged her away. “We’ll radio the cops to check on your folks. Now, move, Miranda.”
Hank stood over Arianna. “I’m so sorry my dear, but your mother was right. I don’t have a penny to my name.” He scowled at Eva. “But I certainly don’t want a penny of yours.”
Owen clapped Hank on the back. “Stop the chat, Hank, we gotta go, man.”
The three ran for the plane but after a few yards, Owen lagged behind.
Miranda’s eyes went wide when she saw the blood staining his shirt. “You’re bleeding! Hank! He’s been hit. Help me!”
They each put a shoulder under one of Owen’s arms and half-walked, half-carried him to the plane. Hank got in first and hauled Owen into the pilot’s seat. Miranda fell into the copilot’s seat and slammed the door.
Owen struggled with the controls. His once-sure hands began to fumble as he tried to start the plane.
It seemed forever before the engines caught, but it was really only seconds before they were hurtling down the runway. Miranda pulled back on the yoke as Owen slumped sideways in his seat. The aircraft lifted into the air, and Miranda frantically studied the control panel. She found the auto-pilot, then instructed Hank to find something to staunch Owen’s bleeding.
“How did…?” Hank said, searching through the side compartments.
“
“Bullet went through her arm into me. I’m not sure I’ll be able to…” Owen’s head lolled forward. His face was blanched, his skin was clammy, and sweat beaded his brow.
“Hank, you have to get him out of this seat and lay him down in the back. He’s barely conscious.” Miranda engaged the autopilot to keep them level and unbuckled Owen.
“Then who’s going to fly the plane?” Hank looked at her in dismay.
Miranda took a last look at Owen’s face, his lips pale, and his lashes dark crescents against white cheekbones. “I am.” She swiveled back around and studied the instruments again. I can do this. “We’re not far from the mainland. Get his legs up on the seat back there and cover him with … with anything you can find. I need to get on the radio and find the nearest hospital.”
Before she could get her thoughts together, the radio came to life and crackled with static. Then a man spoke clearly.
“Beechcraft 13 Foxtrot, you are about to enter restricted airspace over the U.S. Naval Air Station in Key West. Turn ninety degrees east—”
“This is an emergency,” Miranda interrupted. “Our pilot has been shot and he can no longer fly this aircraft. We need to get him to a hospital ASAP.”
“Say again, Beechcraft 13 Foxtrot?”
Miranda squeezed the microphone so tightly it was a wonder she didn’t crush it. “This is an emergency,” she said evenly. “Our pilot has been shot. He needs immediate medical care. He cannot fly the plane.”
“Hold on, please.”
Another voice. “This is First Officer Muldoon. I’ve been told you are in control of an aircraft whose pilot is injured, is that correct?”
“Yes, yes. Please let me land this thing and get him to a hospital.”
There followed a short pause. “What’s your name, Miss?”
“Miranda.”
“Miranda, do you know anything about flying at all?”
“Yes, I had a private pilot certificate fifteen years ago but haven’t flown since then.” She knew she sounded pretty wobbly. She was shaking like a leaf.”
“No worries, then, Miranda. It’s like riding a bicycle. You’ll do fine. I want you to come around to a heading of 320 degrees. Got that?”
“Yes.”
“All right, Miranda, you’re cleared to land on runway 14. We’ll have emergency vehicles and an ambulance at your touch-down point.”
“Oh, thank God,” Miranda whispered. Then she remembered her parents. “Officer Muldoon, I need you to get in touch with Mark Rossman of the FBI.” She recited his cell number. He must get to the Courtenays’ estate. He’ll know where it is. Mrs. Jansen was the person who shot our pilot, and she was also injured in the struggle. Also, I need the Atlanta police to go to this address right away. Someone who pretends to be a home health aide is going to shoot my parents if we don’t stop her. We have less than twenty minutes before she’ll act. She’s waiting for a call from the woman who shot Owen, Mrs. Eva Jansen.”
No response.
“Officer Muldoon!”
Nothing. Miranda yelled into the mike. “Officer Muldoon, can you hear me?”
“You’re five by five Miranda. We’re checking in with Mr. Rossman. We’ve called the Atlanta police.”
“Oh, good.” She took a second to glance back at Owen. Hank had taken off his shirt and used it to put pressure against Owen’s wound. He looked grim. Owen was too pale.
Okay, Lord, this is a good man. I love him. Don’t let me lose him, please.
“I’m going to talk you down, Miranda. Don’t worry, I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”
“That’s good, because I was only rated for single-engine aircraft.”
“You’ve got the ba
sics, that’s what counts. We’ve cleared the airspace. You should be seeing the Naval Air Station off your left wingtip in a few moments.”
Two minutes, which took at least two hours to go by. She rubbed her hands down her skirt and prayed some more. Amazingly, Officer Muldoon was right. It all came back in a rush. When she lined up on final, her world went quiet. She bit her lip so hard in concentration, it bled. The ground floated up to meet her, then a few bumps and she was down. The runway rushed by until they rolled to a stop right at the end. Officer Muldoon told her she didn’t have to worry about taxiing. They would come to her. Her hearing returned at the sound of sirens, and she dropped her head into her hands and simply breathed.
“Nice landing, Captain Leighton,” Owen said weakly. His eyelids fluttered shut.
She unstrapped and squeezed between the seats. “Don’t you dare die on me, flyboy. I’ll never forgive you.”
She felt for a pulse and couldn’t find one. “Owen. Owen!” She shook his shoulder. That got a response.
“Yeah, love. I’m here.”
She swallowed to put her heart back in her chest.
The medics arrived with a stretcher. They started an IV and checked his vitals, then strapped him on a backboard and eased him out of the plane. Hank helped her down, her knees suddenly weak. She leaned against him for a moment.
“I don’t suppose you’d consider joining the FBI? The agency needs more women like you.”
She scowled at him. “Not a snowball’s chance, Hank.”
“I thought not.” He shot her the smile that had seemed so charming a few short weeks ago. Now it didn’t hold a candle to Owen’s.
“Mr. Ziegfeld is asking for you, ma’am.”
She hurried to the ambulance. “Can I ride with him?” she asked the medic. He nodded and helped her into the rig.
She sat next to Owen and took his hand. There was the tiniest flush of color in his cheeks. She wouldn’t have to ask that terrible question, then. The fist that had been twisting her gut loosened a bit.
Owen opened his eyes.
“Hi, flyboy. You lookin’ for a date?”
He smiled and squeezed her hand. “Marry me, Miranda. I need a good copilot.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely …”
She leaned down and kissed him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Two weeks later, Owen and Miranda entered Lacey Walker’s office. Mark Rossman and Luke McBain were already there.
Owen gingerly took a seat, the scar from his surgery still tender. A small price to pay for his clash with the drug dealers.
Miranda sat next to him, the diamond ring on her left hand sparkling almost as brightly as her smile.
“Okay,” Lacey began, “I want all the details.” She glanced from Owen to Miranda, to Mark.
Luke spoke up. “I know this should be at the end of the story, but first tell me how Owen got a military escort to Key West Memorial, and you,” he pointed a finger at Miranda, “landed that plane without so much as a scratch on it.”
Miranda slipped her hand into Owen’s. “It’s amazing what you can do if you are afraid the person you love most in the world might die.” She shrugged. “If I had never flown before, it would have been a different story. But Officer Muldoon was right, once you learn to fly, it’s like riding a bike. I was rusty, no argument there, and the twin engines threw me a bit, but he talked me through most of it. I just knew I had to get Owen to a hospital, so I did.” She grinned. “I’m glad it turned out to be the Naval Air Station whose air space I violated, because they were probably the best equipped to handle a crash, if I messed up.”
“But she didn’t,” Owen said proudly and brought her hand to his lips. “The woman is awesome. Lacey, I’m trying hard to recruit her to fly for Argosy, so you’d better hunt down a replacement.”
Miranda shook her head at Lacey’s panicked expression. “You have plenty of time. I have to finish getting my multi-engine certification before I decide on Owen’s offer. I’d like to keep working here while I do that.”
“Thank goodness.” Lacey shot a glance at Mark Rossman. “Suppose you fill us in on the rest, Mark. Can I rest easy now?”
“The Jansens are all cooling their heels in jail until their indictment.” Mark glanced at his watch. “Which should be happening right about now. Hank is in Miami testifying before a grand jury as we speak.” He shook his head but still smiled. “Believe me, he’d much rather be here. Arianna and her brother may get off with short sentences or probation, but Harold and Eva will be locked up for a long while. Her partner, Arnold Courtenay as well.”
“As soon as Miranda didn’t show up for work that morning, we knew the jig was up. I managed to get a team on a Coast Guard boat out of Miami, and they hightailed it to the Courtenays’ estate.”
“Wes had touched down with Miranda barely fifteen minutes before Owen’s plane landed.”
“Damn bastard,” Owen growled. “I should have vetted him better before I hired him.”
Mark shrugged. “It’s that serendipity thing again. You needed a pilot desperately and knew him from over in A-stan. Bringing his own helicopter made him too good to pass up.”
“Now we know just how accurate his nickname really is,” Miranda piped up.
Mark nodded. “We were suspicious at how handily Wes answered Owen’s ad for a pilot, so we put a bug in the cockpit.” He pointed at Miranda. “You were our main concern at that point. You’d been knocked out back in Mimosa Key, driven to a deserted beach and transferred to Wes’s chopper. You didn’t wake up the whole time you were in the air and I was worried. We heard him hand you off to someone, then take off a few minutes later. We had no idea if or when you finally came around.”
Owen’s free hand curled into a fist and Miranda rubbed his shoulder. “I was fine, honey. Stop feeling so guilty. You had no idea they would kidnap me that morning.”
“While I was cursing them out for being so late getting to the airport that morning, Gregor was busy conking you over the head and taking you to Wes’s copter,” Owen groused.
Miranda smirked. “Well, I did return that favor.”
Owen eyes shone with love and admiration. “My wonder woman.”
“After that, things happened pretty fast,” Mark continued. “The daring duo,” he indicated Owen and Miranda, “escaped their bonds, decked the bad guys, and helped Hank escape, during which struggle Owen was hit by the bullet that went through Eva Jansen’s arm.”
Lacey spoke up. “What I don’t understand is how did they know about the FBI sting to begin with?”
“That was a major blunder on the FBI’s part,” Mark admitted. “The one big thing we were totally unaware of was that Eva Jansen was the brains behind their entire operation. We thought Harold was the boss, but he only went along because he loved Eva. Turns out she always carried a bug detection device, so she knew your aircraft was bugged the moment she got on board. Needless to say, her suspicions were raised after that, so she had one of her men keep an eye on security personnel here. Her partner Arnold checked out Owen, and discovered his old Air Force connection to me. When I showed up here to explain Hank’s misadventure, Eva’s suspicions went off the charts. She decided if they couldn’t recruit Owen, he and Miranda would have a fatal crash at sea. Then she hired Wes as back up pilot.”
“We’ve had some interesting guests here who wanted to get out of the spotlight, so to speak,” Luke McBain said. “It is amazing the amount of information you can uncover if you have a talented hacker at the keyboard.”
“It’s also an indication of how large Eva’s organization is—that she could find and put in place people like Wes Harris and James Fairchild. That takes money and connections,” Owen added. “I’m happy to report that Mr. Fairchild has resigned from the venture capitalist firm that has invested in Argosy. In fact, I believe he has left the country.”
“We’ll find him,” Mark promised.
Lacey stood. “Meanwhile I am so grateful to all of you fo
r keeping Casa Blanca safe and free from any taint of criminal activity. I believe Chef Ian has prepared some special dishes for you all to enjoy tonight in Junonia to celebrate your successful capture of the Jansens and their cohorts.”
“Now I’m certain Hank will be sorry he can’t join us,” Mark said.
“We’ll invite him to the wedding,” Owen offered. He stood and tugged Miranda into his arms. “After all, he was the one who introduced me to the most fantastic woman in the world.”
Miranda smiled at him, her eyes alight with happiness and love. “And he better be there, too. I never did get to thank him for the most unusual first date ever.”
The End
If you enjoyed this novella and would like to read about other members of the Ziegfeld family, download Double Play and A Family for the Holidays, my previous Barefoot Bay Kindle World books available at Amazon.
And, if you enjoy books set in towns by the sea, check out my Blue Point Cove series based in a sleepy resort town along the shore of the Chesapeake Bay. These stories are a little longer, a bit spicier, and populated by characters with secrets galore!
Questions or comments? I’m always happy to hear from my readers. Like me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter, Email me at [email protected] or sign up for my quarterly newsletter at http://www.karenanndell.com.
Table of Contents
A Message from Roxanne St. Claire
Other books by Karen Ann Dell
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Barefoot Bay_Flight Risk Page 14
