by Jack Porter
Guardian
Jack Porter
Ink Riot Books
Copyright © 2021 by Jack Porter
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Books by Jack Porter
One
The night was crystal clear beyond the massive windscreen of the Starflight 800. It was nearing 5:00am, and I was itching for some caffeine to keep me alert during our flight.
A perfect opportunity to help my co-pilot with her insecurity, I thought, smiling inwardly.
I stood, stretched, and turned to the only other occupant in the cockpit. “Looks like everything is quiet here. I think it’s about time for coffee.”
My second in command, Layla Washington, shifted as if to get up, but I raised my hand to halt her. She stilled in the seat.
“I’ll get it this time, Number Two,” I said. “This chair is too small for me, and my back is getting tight. Think you can handle the controls for a moment?”
Layla tensed. Hickory colored eyes shifted my way, pausing on my muscular chest a fraction too long before raising to meet my eyes. There was a bit of heat in her expression. The look wasn’t unusual. Layla frequently told me how handsome I was. And I knew she wanted more than the professional relationship we had now.
But it seemed wrong to mix work and romance, so I always thanked her for her compliment but never pushed for more.
“Captain, are you sure?” Layla asked, her voice sounding slightly tinny through the wireless headset I wore.
A lot of pilots had their quirks. I had mine. Layla was more afraid than she should have been to fly solo at night. Perhaps it was simply because she usually didn’t have to.
“Aren’t we pretty close to the Bermuda Triangle?” she asked, grasping at any excuse. “You’ve heard the stories of planes and boats suddenly disappearing in this area.”
“You’ve said it yourself, those are just stories,” I soothed. I kept my voice gentle and confident. “The sky is perfect. Not a hint of wind. Plus, autopilot will do most of the work.”
“Still, I knew we’d be flying by here. So I did some research.”
I held a finger up to stop her there. Layla was a history buff if ever there was one, probably knowing more about ancient civilizations and legends than anyone I’d ever met. The woman knew twelve languages, for heaven’s sake. If I let her keep talking, we’d make it to our destination before even a drop of coffee was brewed.
“I’ll only be a room away if you need me. You can do this, Layla. You’re a fantastic pilot.”
Those were the magic words.
She enjoyed hearing that I trusted her almost as much as I loved saying it. It was true, too. Layla had proven herself a capable second in every situation. Cunning in her ability to make quick decisions, she commanded the sky almost as well as I did, and I had years of naval aviation training behind me.
It was time to deal with her little quirk head on.
Layla seemed to think so too, clutching the smooth rubber of the control wheel in her steady grip. She gave a small nod and turned, methodically checking that all the different instrument readouts were as they should be before looking out the star-filled windscreen.
Feeling like I’d won a minor victory, I didn’t wait for her to reconsider. I simply exited the dimly lit room, ducking so I wouldn’t bump my head, and shut the door behind me with a satisfying hiss.
Outside of the cockpit was a cramped space where we kept emergency supplies, food rations for the trip, and most importantly, our instant coffee.
It wasn’t as noisy here as it was in the cockpit, so I lowered my headset, hanging it around my neck. I’d still hear Layla if she needed me, I thought as I pulled two paper cups from among the supplies. Then I filled the kettle and flipped the ON button.
While I waited, a bright green glow blinked on behind the curtain separating our supply room from the passenger cabin.
A call light? This late?
Or was it this early?
Shrugging, I left to investigate. The coffee could wait a moment longer.
Soft female snores and content breathy sighs greeted me as I walked between the seats.
I’d only briefly met each of the girls I was chartering back to America before we took off. I ticked them off as I walked by.
Megan Hunter. Sleeping. Piper Quinn. Also, fast asleep. That only leaves—
The woman in the last seat had natural blonde curls that flowed past her shoulders, expressive, pale green eyes, and a sweet face that spoke of overflowing kindness.
“You rang, Miss Morrison?” I grinned down at her.
By far she was the smallest person on the plane. This made her lush curves seem even more pronounced.
Being professional was something I took great pride in, so I didn’t let myself linger on the more sensuous parts of her body, but rather kept my eyes trained on her heart-shaped face.
“Oh, just Hannah, is fine.” She giggled, her voice carrying a healthy dollop of southern charm. “I’m not the type to complain over a little informality.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Just Hannah,” I teased. She laughed merrily at my intentionally cheesy joke. “What can I do for you?” I asked.
A blush rose to color Hannah’s cheeks.
“Honestly, I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. “I saw you moving behind the curtain and wondered if you’d keep me company a while?” She placed a finger conspiratorially over her lips—like we shared a secret now.
I glanced back toward the cockpit and scrubbed a hand over my stubble. “I suppose I could hang out a second. Anything to keep my passenger happy.”
Hannah was wearing dark yoga pants that hugged her curves and a cute pink crop top that said Flower Power on the front. She untucked her tiny feet from beneath her and leaned closer to me.
“Fantastic! How are things in the—sorry, I don’t know the name of the room where you work.”
“The cockpit?”
At my words, she smirked and raised an eyebrow.
“Yep, that’s it. The cockpit.” Her eyes dipped down. It seemed like she was after a little more than just conversation.
At nearly five in the morning? Energetic girl.
“Everything is perfect. We should touch down right on time.” Smiling politely, I took a surreptitious step back, just to put a little professional distance between us.
Now, how to defuse this situation without upsetting her, I thought.
“Captain?” Layla’s electronic voice came from my headset. “Are you there?”
Bingo.
Holding an apologetic finger up to Hannah, I shifted the headset back into position. “Yes, I’m here. Is there a problem, Number Two?”
A hesitant silence made my brow furrow with worry. She wouldn’t call for nothing.
“Layla?” I tried again, dropping the formality.
“It’s just—for a moment I thought I saw some strange readings on the instrument panel. But now that I’m looking them over, everything seems normal. Sorry to bother you, Captain.”
Layla’s husky laugh was deep and musical to my ears. “I guess I need that coffee more desperately than I thought.”
“Not a problem, Number Two. I’ll come up and take a look, just to be safe.”
I wasn’t really worried, but this gave me the perfect excuse to leave without offending my passenger. “And I’ll remember to bring a brimming cup of coffee for my sleepy co-pilot.”
“Why thank you, Captain. You’re so thoughtful,” she sassed back, but I knew her words were sincere.
“I’m afraid I need to get back to the controls, Hannah,” I said. “It was lovely talking with you.”
“Is something wrong?” she asked, eyes wide under her dark lashes.
I opened my mouth to tell her no, but at that moment, the plane lurched violently. The sudden shift threw Hannah partially out of her seat and against me.
Hannah shrieked, soon joined by a chorus of other girls who were startled awake by the shaking. I gripped the back of a seat and kept a reassuring arm around Hannah's tiny frame until I was sure that the jolting stopped.
Only then did I let go.
“It’s okay ladies, just a little turbulence is all. We get that from time to time,” I assured them. “I think it's best if you keep your seatbelt fastened for now, Hannah.”
“Okay,” she replied, sniffling. No doubt she’d been terrified. Her hands shook as she buckled in, pulling the strap tight.
Layla’s voice blared to life in my ear. It was grim. “Captain, your presence is required. There’s a storm moving our way. A bad one.”
Two
Heart thumping, I made my way back to the cockpit. Sirens and warning lights assaulted me from the control panel. I glanced at Layla to make sure she was okay. Her face was ghostly pale and her body trembled with her effort to keep the plane steady under ferocious winds.
Thunder rumbled, angry and ominous, and far too close for my comfort.
Sliding into the cramped seat, I strapped in and took command. The control wheel was light and comfortable under my grip. I noticed Layla was fastened in tighter than when I’d left.
“Layla, get on the Sat-COM and call air control. Inform them of our situation.”
As instructed, she picked up the palm-sized transmitter and brought it close to her mouth. “Miami Tower, this is flight November Six Eight Zero Kilo Hotel. Come in.”
Static fizzled for a moment, then nothing.
“Miami Tower, this is flight November Six Eight Zero Kilo Hotel. Come in.”
Again, nothing but static. Layla gave me a worried look.
“Keep trying,” I said.
“Miami Tower, this is flight November Six Eight Zero Kilo Hotel. Come in.”
Nothing.
Like an omen of impending doom, a flash of lightning lit up the cockpit. The bright bolt zig-zagged diagonally, lighting up the sky, and I could see the storm clouds ahead of us.
“Comms are down,” I said, grimly acknowledging the truth of the situation. “Navigation isn’t giving a good read. It must be the storm. Prepare yourself, Layla, our visibility is about to become a whole lot worse.”
I kept my voice calm and reassuring, but in truth, I was almost as concerned as Layla was. I tackled the rudder with one foot and tried to keep the yaw steady in the crosswinds while pumping the break with my other foot to slow us down.
“We need to get over the clouds,” I said. “It’ll be safer there.”
The storm fought me for dominance as I began our ascent. Rain and hail started pelting against the outer panels of the cockpit and fuselage. But the wind was ferocious, forcing me to level us out once again. I heard Layla muttering something about random hurricanes, but I didn’t have time to wonder where this weather had come from. It was all I could do just to keep the plane steady.
We couldn’t keep this up--it was either look for temporary landing, or risk ditching in the ocean. I nosed down, descending more rapidly than I would have liked, but wanting to avoid flying through the worst clouds.
Once under the clouds, I kept my eyes sharp. As I anticipated, visibility in the heavy rain was atrocious. I couldn’t see past a few inches beyond the windscreen.
From behind the cockpit, I heard startled shrieks and gasps as we dropped rapidly.
I couldn’t blame the passengers. Descending over eight thousand feet in such a short amount of time was not a pleasant experience. My stomach seemed to climb into my chest as if it could wait out the storm there.
I glanced at Layla and switched on the overhead speaker. “Girls, Captain Dexter Carter speaking. Stay tight in your seats. We’ve hit a bit of weather and I’m going to look for a place to park her until she clears. Nothing to worry about. This is standard procedure.”
It was the best I could do. There was no room for panic while I did what needed to be done. But not even Layla seemed to believe my reassuring words. I didn’t blame her. She had an up close and personal view of our situation.
As we entered the ten-thousand-foot territory, the rain began to lighten a little. I searched for any measly scrap of dirt that looked safe for landing, waiting for lightning to provide a view of below.
There was nothing but a black, raging ocean below us.
There had been very few success stories of planes landing safely in the ocean, and none where the waves were as high and violent as these.
Seeing this, my co-pilot grew panicked and angry. “I don’t know where the storm even came from,” she said. “One minute it was clear and calm, and the next...” She gestured toward the windscreen in frustration.
More than frustration. This was no minor squall, no light, summer rainfall.
This storm was a buffeting monster, a demon in the wet, a powerful beast intent on ripping the plane apart, to spill us poor passengers into the vast turmoil below.
And Layla knew it.
Something about the way she looked at me told me she was thinking about our earlier conversation. The Bermuda Triangle. We weren’t over the middle of it, not even close.
But we were certainly skimming the edge, and at this point, with everything that was happening, I was starting to turn from a cynic into a believer.
However, I didn’t have the time to worry about whether the stories were true. My only focus was saving the occupants of my plane. These girls needed me, and I wasn’t going to let them down.
Not if I could help it.
Steadying my grip, I pulled up on the wheel until we were level, nose to tail, and tried to turn into the wind. It was our best shot of slowing the plane enough to try to ditch with relative safety.
I supposed we’d have a few moments of buoyancy to deploy the emergency dinghy and jump into the icy sea before the plane began to sink. After that—
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Dex. I thought. Keep focused.
I was about to inform Layla of my hole-filled plan, intending that she go prepare the girls for a very rude start to their morning. But she spoke first, pointing a finger somewhere out in front.
“Is that what I think it is?” she breathed.
Something dark gray and large appeared in the water ahead of us as we hit one thousand feet.
Holy shit.
It was the answer to my unspoken prayer.
“Yes. An island,” I confirmed. I couldn’t keep the relief out of my tone. “With a beautiful sand-covered landing strip stamped across it. This will be easy. Get ready to pull the landing gear.”
Although, maybe island wasn’t the right term. As we drew nearer, more and more of it seemed to co
alesce in front of the screen. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought we’d come across the US mainland itself. The dark outline of mountains and forests stood out against the flashes of lightning.
Layla resumed her work as my trusty co-pilot, and I focused on the beach.
“Fifty feet. Forty feet,” Layla said, keeping me informed of our height while I lined us up to the rain-soaked beach. We were close enough that I could see it clearly. Not the landing strip I’d been hoping for, but close enough.
“Pull the wheels,” I ordered.
Layla did, and the whirring, clanking sound as they locked into place was beyond comforting.
We were going to make it.
Until we weren’t.
Thirty feet from the shore, a vengeful bolt of lightning struck the plane true in the right engine. I was still lined up to land, but had lost much of my control.
We were coming in at an unsafe speed. A fatal speed. And the beach I’d been aiming for was suddenly too far below us, too littered with rocks, and only an option if we were to fall straight down from the sky.
We’re going to crash.
There was no time to be shocked. After a half-second glance at our surroundings, I heaved back the control wheel and aimed us for the trees instead, knowing that a tree-top landing was even more uncertain than an ocean one, but knowing that I’d run out of options.
I cursed under my breath and willed the plane to slow down with everything I had, bleeding speed but trying hard not to stall, trying to come in to land the way a bird does, almost stopping before their feet touch the branches.
