Elizabeth Goddard - Treacherous Skies

The plane continued to shake as he made his way to Maya, ordering himself to get some real answers from her this time. Her honey eyes and dark mane were an intoxicating combination and sent his breath catching in his throat every time he looked at her. It made him way too easily distracted.

What was the matter with him? Okay, he’d admit that he was attracted to her, but that couldn’t go anywhere. He couldn’t let it. Not just because he wasn’t sure he could trust her, but because he knew—from long, hard experience—that she couldn’t count on him.

If his life had been different, maybe he would want a chance to be friends, maybe even something more. But as things were, he wasn’t the kind of man women wanted for the long haul, and he would do good to remember that. He had the broken engagement to prove it.

* * *

Connor dropped into the seat across from her again, pulling her gaze and pensive thoughts from the window. The constant shaking unnerved her, and she feared they would end up in the azure depths of the Gulf of Mexico.

The handsome pilot’s eyes swam with the blue-green of tropical waters, and though worry tugged at the corner of his lips, his soft smile reassured her. If she were a woman who believed in fairy tales, she could almost believe that he was destined to rescue her. That they were supposed to meet somehow, somewhere, but under different circumstances.

Why couldn’t she have met him in the States, before she’d gone to Belize? Maybe he could have talked her out of going. But then again, once he learned the truth about her identity, he would have left her just as Eric had. Men could not be trusted.

Not her father. Not Eric. Not Connor. He would try to protect his own interests. She just had to convince him that those interests didn’t include the truth about her, at least until she was free of him.

Turbulence jolted the fuselage, adding to her anxiety.

She squeezed the armrests, hating the vibration, the shaking, the turbulence—all of it—but holding on to her composure. She didn’t want him to think her weak. She needed to remain strong in his eyes so she would have more negotiating power, should she need it.

“We haven’t crashed yet. Does that mean we’re going to live?” she asked, and even offered a smile. She needed to get on his good side, to convince him to listen to her plan.

He nodded. “Yes. I think chances are good we’re going to live.”

Maya wasn’t sure if he would tell her otherwise. “To face another day,” she added.

To possibly face Roberto’s men when they landed. Of course, Roberto couldn’t so easily take his plane back upon landing in Miami, but she’d wanted to incite fear in Connor. If he didn’t know who he could trust, he wasn’t as likely to tell anyone about the kidnapped woman he’d found on the plane he’d taken, and Maya’s chances of walking away from this were much greater.

“To face another day.” His smile grew wider, revealing two dimples on his left cheek.

She didn’t trust his smile—he wanted her to let down her guard, using the same tactic she was using on him. She’d started it, after all, but sometimes a smile was all you had.

Though she tried to resist, she liked the curve of his lips. When she thought about it, she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather go through this with even though she knew little about him. But she knew enough—she sensed he was a champion inside.

Someone’s champion, just not hers.

He didn’t seem to realize that about himself, though, despite the confidence he projected.

“We’ll be landing in a few minutes, an emergency landing at the Golden Key airstrip. It’s small, but adequate.”

His words wrapped around her throat and strangled her.

“Maya?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

“What happened to Miami?” She choked on her words.

“We’re making an emergency landing because of engine trouble. What’s wrong with Golden Key?” His soft, caring tone had turned brusque again.

“It’s not far enough away, that’s what’s wrong.”

She rubbed her temples. Maybe she was overreacting and should take heart in the way that she’d been rescued from Roberto’s grasp. Maybe landing in U.S. territory would be her freedom. But no. Her instincts told her otherwise. Roberto’s grasp reached into the Caribbean islands and the Keys—as had her father’s, in years past. She doubted much had changed despite the government’s best efforts. That much she could count on.

When she slid her hands away from her forehead, Connor studied her as if trying to determine if he could trust her.

She needed him to believe her, and the thought that he questioned whether or not he could trust her disappointed her on a far more personal level, surprising her.

“Do you really think this man has that kind of power that he will be waiting for us when we land?” he asked.

She drew in a calming breath. “Do you consider yourself a blessed man, Connor Jacobson?”

Contemplating a response, Connor stared at her, and when he didn’t answer, she continued. “Once we land, if you have God’s favor with you, then you might slip through his hands. But if you want to stay that way, if we are even given the chance, then we must go our separate ways.”

A deep frown lined his face. Pain and compassion flickered across his gaze—the man was worried about her, more worried about her than himself. Her earlier misgivings about him—that he would try to protect his own interests at her expense—were wrong.

Such a small thing...Maya swallowed against the tightness in her throat...but that small thing had an enormous impact, touching a forgotten place in her heart that had long grown cold. The kindness in his eyes warmed her heart, overwhelming her, and giving her the sudden, crazy desire for him to wrap her in his arms, tell her it would be all right. She wished he would at least move into the seat next to hers—she needed to feel his nearness. Maybe she could draw strength from that.

But he remained in the seat across from her, watching her, the concern in his eyes disorienting her, confusing what needed to be a single-minded focus. Had it really been so long since anyone cared about her that a stranger could do this to her?

“I want to help you,” he said.

What? No...

While she’d wanted him to be sympathetic to her plight as a victim rather than believing she was involved in the drug world, she didn’t want to put him in any more danger.

Emotions warred on the inside while her father’s drug wars battled on the outside.

Then there was the way this pilot affected her as if she was piloting an airplane over the Bermuda Triangle and into the electromagnetic vortex—her instrument panel spun out of control.

She glanced down at her hands still gripping the armrests, her nerves on edge enough without the plane’s vibrating assault. Connor continued to watch her, waiting for her response—he wanted to help her, but he didn’t know the full extent of the danger they were in. She couldn’t allow him to get more entangled in her problems.

She shook her head, hating the burning at the backs of her eyes. No. She wouldn’t cry. “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.” Connor blew out an exasperated breath. “We’ve run out of time. Tell me what I need to know to do the right thing.”

“Haven’t I already told you enough? The man who wants me will not stop until he has me. Nothing and no one will stand in his way. You can’t help me, so let me go away quietly. I need to disappear. Don’t make any waves on my account. Don’t tell anyone I was kidnapped. Leave the jet and the island. Get as far away as you can.”

She hated watching the deep crease that appeared between his brows, but knew she’d hit her mark.