Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
55
Sara
I’ve always thought that planes with malfunctioning engines fall out of the sky, like birds that had been shot. But as I stare at Peter in paralyzed terror, I don’t feel a sharp drop.
Somehow, we’re still gliding forward as we descend.
“Sara.” His voice sharpens. “Bend over and hug your knees. Now.”
My frozen limbs somehow comply, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him assume the same position.
Oh God.
It’s happening.
It’s real.
We’re crashing.
We’re about to die.
My rapid breathing is tornado loud in my ears, my right hand slippery with sweat as I push it through the mound of pillows to touch Peter’s arm.
I need to feel him.
Need to know that we’re connected to the end.
Then his big hand wraps around my palm again, and for a fraction of a second, it’s all I need. The flare of joy is as intense as the panic consuming me, the surge of love so strong it overcomes the fear of impending death.
“I love you,” I whisper, turning my head to meet his silver gaze. “I’ll always love you, Peter… in this world and beyond.”
The initial impact is like landing on a bucking bronco. The plane hits the ground so hard it bounces twice, each jolt rougher than the next. The belt across my lap is the only thing that keeps me from flying off the seat, and my left shoulder slams into the couch cushion as the plane tips violently to one side before leveling off.
The landing gear must not have deployed all the way, I realize as the agonizing screech of metal dragging over pavement reaches my ears over the deafening pounding of my pulse. And then miraculously, we’re slowing down.
We’re on the ground and slowing down.
The realization sinks in slowly, and it’s not until we’ve stopped that I comprehend it fully.
We survived.
We ran out of fuel, but we still landed.
Breathing raggedly, I sit up and open my eyes—I must’ve squeezed them shut during the landing—and I see Peter already sitting upright, his stubble-shadowed face creased with a worried frown as he frees his hand from my white-knuckled grip.
Unbuckling his seatbelt, he stands up and swiftly rids me of the pillows before patting me down from head to toe.
“Are you all right?” he asks fiercely, and when I nod, I find myself pulled into his embrace and held so tightly that I can’t breathe. Not that I need to. This, right here, is all that I need. His warmth seeps into my frozen body, his comforting scent surrounds me, and with my ear pressed against his powerful chest, I hear his heart beating in tune with mine.
We made it.
We’re together, and we’re alive.
56
Peter
If I had my way, I’d hold Sara forever, feeling her warmth and breathing in her scent, but there’s still our unwilling host to deal with.
Reluctantly, I release her and step back. Ilya and Yan are already by the door, opening it and lowering the ladder, and I walk over to help them.
Sure enough, outside are enough armed guards to take down a platoon. They’ve surrounded our plane, and behind them are at least twenty SUVs with reinforcements, with a dozen more pulling up as I look.
“Stay here until I come for you,” I tell Sara over my shoulder, and then I step out into the humid heat of the jungle, fully prepared to be shot on the spot.
Just because Esguerra let us land doesn’t mean he’ll let us live. He might’ve just wanted our plane undamaged.
No bullets come at me, but I know better than to relax as I go down the steps, the adrenaline helping me conceal the limp.
“I’m unarmed,” I call out as the nearest guards raise their M16s. They must be new; I don’t recognize any of their faces from my time in Esguerra’s employ. “Tell your boss that I’m here to see him.”
“Are you now?” Esguerra says, stepping out from behind a cluster of guards. “What a coincidence. Because I could’ve sworn your plane just happened to crash here… as if you ran out of fuel.”
“Yes, well, shit happens. Fuel leak last minute and all that.”
He tsk-tsks in false sympathy. “Should fire your maintenance guy. Fuel leaks are dangerous.”
“Aren’t they, though?” My grin is as sharp as the knife I’ve concealed in my boot. Despite what I said, I’m never completely unarmed. “But all is well that ends well. We’re here now, so why don’t we shelve the whys for later and focus on what matters—finding Henderson and unfucking up this situation as quickly as possible.”
Esguerra’s eyes narrow to blue slivers, and for a moment, I’m sure he’s going to kill me. But business sense must prevail because he just says coolly, “All right. You have two weeks to fix this mess. Diego will show you and your team to your lodgings.”
He turns to leave, and I allow myself to exhale the breath I’ve been holding.