Elizabeth Goddard - Treacherous Skies

Troy McDaniels of Genesis Air Holdings, an aviation leasing company, had hired Connor to recover the Learjet, making him a Learjet repo man, of sorts.

At least for today.

The men with guns complicated what he’d been led to believe would be the simple recovery of a sleek, private Learjet costing in the millions.

People weren’t usually willing to give up their expensive toys and apparently would go as far as hiding them, but employing a security detail to protect property that no longer belonged to them seemed a little extreme.

This was some serious on-the-job-training for Connor’s first time, because Troy hadn’t said anything about Uzi-toting guards. But Troy had suggested Connor consider using the element of surprise. Now he knew why.

The van bumped over the road, grating at Connor’s already agitated mood. They hadn’t bargained for this. If only he had more than two days to think this through, but he’d been informed that after that time the jet would be out of the country and more difficult to extract.

For the same reason, he’d wait to file a flight plan, and grab his clearance after takeoff. If someone got wind of his plans, the Learjet was as good as gone, taking his hopes for a future with it.

Gunning the van, he tossed a grin Jake’s way, hoping to invigorate his brother, his face now a few shades lighter.

“I’ve come to appreciate that your charm has its advantages.”

Jake had convinced a woman to let him use her catering truck for the morning, though some extra cash had been required to seal the deal. She’d been given the necessary directions about where to find her vehicle later in the day. That is, if everything went as planned.

Now that he’d seen just how remote this airstrip was, he wasn’t sure they’d paid her enough.

“You’re sure a plate of cupcakes is going to convince them?” Jake gripped the overhead handle as Connor floored it over the rutted road to the airfield. “I’d think that caviar would be more in line with what they’re expecting.”

“Relax. There are five plates of sandwiches that, for all they know, were made special for the rich and unscrupulous. They won’t be able to tell the sandwiches are nothing more than tuna. Those will convince them if they question us, which they won’t, and it only takes one platter to get us on the plane. Once we’re on, there’s nothing they can do unless they want to shoot holes in the plane. I doubt they’ve been given that authority.” Or at least he hoped they hadn’t. At the moment, hope was all he had.

From the corner of his eye, Connor could tell that while his brother had agreed to come along at first, now he was losing his nerve—and fast. Connor had invited him for one reason—he needed a copilot to fly the jet and Jake was an experienced commercial pilot for Journey Airlines. Connor had dragged his brother away the day before he was to leave for his vacation in Hawaii. His only regret at the moment was potentially putting his brother in harm’s way.

“Jake, we’re posing as caterers. If they won’t let us on, we’ll think of something else. They’re not going to shoot us for bringing cupcakes. Once we’re on the plane, we shut the door and take off. Got it?”

“Got it.” His brother shifted in his seat, appearing to grab on to the idea as though his life depended on it.

It just might.

Connor’s pulse raced in his ears as he drove around the lone hangar on the remote airstrip. One of the guards came into view. The other must have disappeared into the hangar.

Connor parked the van near the door to the jet where the guard eyed them. Fortunately, he hadn’t assumed an aggressive posture that signaled suspicion, and a quick glimpse told Connor the other one wasn’t on his way back. Amazing what a van decorated in the flowering script of a catering business could do.

“Wipe your palms, buddy.” Connor laughed as he spoke to Jake, hoping the guard standing like a sentinel next to the bird would see that he and Jake were good ole boys just doing their job.

Connor wondered if they were expecting the jet to be repossessed or if they were protecting the plane for another reason. If the lessee was mixed up in something requiring armed guards, it was none of Connor’s business. He was just there for the plane.

When Connor stepped from the vehicle, he strode around the front of the van to speak with the dark-haired sentry. Connor tugged a slip of paper from his pocket and stared at it as though he needed confirmation.

“We’re here to deliver food to a jet on this strip, and the N-number matches. Never mind there’s only two jets here and this one is the only white Learjet with black-and-gold stripes.” Connor laughed, but the guard didn’t crack a smile.

He held out a pink-frosted cupcake with red sprinkles. “I was afraid we’d be late. You hungry?” he asked.

The guard eyed the cupcake then glanced over at the hangar. Finally he shook his head. “No.”

Connor got the sense the guy wanted the cupcake, but thought better of it. Good. The man believed the story. “Suit yourself.”

Jake got out of the vehicle, his demeanor a little too cautious for Connor, but then again, the guns should intimidate any normal person. He slapped his brother on the back and slid the side of the van door open to reveal the food. Each of them grabbed a tray.

The guard slid his key into the Learjet door, unlocked and tugged down the steps, then lifted the top section for them. Jake hopped up the three short steps into the jet and then made a show of entering the cabin to deposit the plate after which he would slip into the cockpit where he would begin the start-up sequence. It would take thirty seconds for each of the engines to start, but they only needed one to taxi the jet down the runway, putting distance between them and the guards, and they could start the other engine during the taxi.

Connor handed off one of the two plates to the guard, buying a little time. The guard hesitated at first then finally took the plate.

“Help yourself. There’s an extra plate anyway.” He gestured to the van. “Drinks are in the van.”

He hopped up the steps and entered the jet, joining his brother. They had no more than ten seconds, if that, before the distracted guard noticed he’d been outmaneuvered.

When Connor spotted the guard heading to the hangar with the plate of cupcakes, he tugged the steps closed and shut them inside the jet.

Jake began the start-up sequence, and Connor watched the hangar through the small window.

Fifteen seconds and counting.

The guards appeared at the hangar entrance and launched toward them, holding their weapons in the air.

“Jake. Get this thing moving.”

Connor couldn’t lock the guards out, so he secured the door by holding the handle in place. They would be on him in seconds.

The door shook as the two gun-toting men tried to open it. They pounded on it, spewing curses.

The first engine fired up. Jake began taxiing the jet. The guards banged harder against the door.

Were they going to shoot? Connor held his breath and sent up a silent prayer.

Jake increased their speed until the guards could no longer keep up.

Connor dropped into the pale leather captain’s chair in the cockpit next to his brother. The first engine had reached the ten percent mark, and Connor brought number-two thrust lever forward.

Gunfire pinged the fuselage, sounding like the last couple of kernels of popcorn in the microwave. He hoped the bullets didn’t pierce the exterior.

“I thought you said they wouldn’t shoot?” In the close quarters of the cockpit, Jake’s glare felt more like a death threat.

“I guess they figure they’re in big trouble for losing the plane over a plate of cupcakes.” Connor thought that would make his brother laugh, but Jake’s expression remained solemn.