Dangerously Broken (Aegis Group Lepta Team Book 4) Page 10

  “I don’t talk to my family at all,” he said.

  She turned her head to look at him, studying his profile.

  “The girls, they both have kids. Little ones. I’ve never met them.” He kept staring at the seatback in front of him.

  “Why’s that?”

  He shrugged. “Their lives are normal. Happy. Safe.”

  And his wasn’t?

  She didn’t think he was talking about his day job. No, the factor he wasn’t talking about was the baggage that had come with being held prisoner.

  Priscilla had seen his body, the scars and old wounds on him. She knew where those had come from. Because her value had been as a virginal girl, she hadn’t endured the same kind of torture. Her scars were invisible. And she knew how much those hidden wounds could tear a life apart, how there was no set healing time.

  Brenden didn’t see his family for reasons rooted in his past. Was he afraid of what he would do? What it might bring back? Or did he not trust himself?

  She didn’t know him well, but she couldn’t see Brenden hurting an innocent. It just wasn’t in his DNA to do something like that. He was a gentle giant under the stony expressions and scarred exterior.

  Priscilla reached over and took his hand in hers. In that moment it felt as though she’d known him her whole life. She got him and these reservations and all the stuff that was holding him back.

  “You ever want to burn the baggage?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He squeezed her hand.

  She curled a leg under her and twisted to face him, her head resting on the seatback. “What color do you think the flames would burn?”

  “It would depend on how hot—”

  “Metaphorically, not really.”

  “Blue.”

  “Blue?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled and imagined a big, blue bonfire eating up years of pain, turmoil, self-destruction and memories. It wouldn’t make the darkness go away, but it was one hell of a show.

  FRIDAY. EL PASO, TEXAS.

  Damian Naraujo watched the black and white security feed. For a job he’d thrown together in a handful of hours, things were going better than he’d hoped.

  He still had no idea how the man who’d woken him up got his number. All Damian really cared about was getting paid. Once the cash hit his account, there was no question about doing the job.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d crashed a plane.

  “Does he know what he’s doing?” Victoria leaned over his shoulder, her gaze narrowed.

  Damian ran his hand up and down her forearm. “Relax.”

  “We shouldn’t have taken this job,” she whispered.

  “It’s easy money.” He turned his head and kissed her elbow.

  “What if the plane doesn’t go down? What then?”

  “It will work.” He nodded at his laptop. A connection pop-up appeared, the little green bar sliding across the window. “See?”

  “D, we have no back-up plan. Fuck. We’re supposed to be lying low, not crashing a plane.”

  Damian wrapped his arm around Victoria’s waist and pulled her onto his lap. He appreciated her thorough approach to planning jobs, but this one did not require that level of complexity.

  She sighed heavily and settled more comfortably against him.

  Once more he had to wonder, how long would she’d last?

  Damian’s line of work had a high mortality rate. He didn’t get attached to the people he hired, even the ones who found their way into his bed.

  “Everything will go according to plan.” He clicked his other screen. “The flight crew just did twelve hours from Rio to Mexico City. They’re tired. Once I take over their guidance system, they’ll never realize how off course they are until they go down in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Where are you trying to crash them?” Victoria frowned at the screen.

  Damian grit his teeth. She was trying his patience, asking too many questions. Just because they fucked didn’t mean she got to second guess all his decisions. He’d been doing this before her and he’d be around to do this job after her, too. But today wasn’t the time to pick a fight. For now, he needed her.

  “Ideally northern Mexico, between Chihuahua and Sonora somewhere. The plane could go down as far north as New Mexico. Lots of empty miles, little chance of first responders arriving in time to save anyone. And we can be in the area to do any necessary clean up long before anyone else.” He patted her thigh. “Put on clothes and round up the guys.”

  Victoria sighed then got up. He turned, admiring her ass clad only in a pair of lace panties. The woman had this thing against pants he fully appreciated. She grabbed jeans off the sofa before heading out of the room.

  This was going to be the easiest hundred grand he’d made in a long time.

  8.

  FRIDAY. PRIVATE JET, Somewhere over Mexico.

  Brenden could do without flights that lasted days. Then again, this time around he’d gotten to spend twelve hours with Priscilla. Granted they’d both slept at least six hours. The rest of it they’d talked.

  He reached into the cool compartment and grabbed two cans of soda.

  “I don’t know if I’ve heard you talk that much in all the years I’ve known you.” Vaughn leaned against the galley counter, arms across his chest watching Brenden.

  He straightened and locked gazes with his teammate. The words that had come so easily with Priscilla dried up.

  What could he say?

  Vaughn was right.

  “You like this chick.” He tilted his head to the side.

  Brenden’s insides knotted up.

  Yeah, he did like her. It felt as though he’d known her his whole life. Talking was easy. But in a few hours this would be over. She had a life, a job she was passionate about and he was going back to Seattle. End of story.

  “Sorry I interrupted.” Vaughn held his hands up. “Carry on.”

  Brenden stepped past his team mate only to have his way blocked by Melody. Her normal composure was missing. A single wrinkle between her brows was enough warning to put Brenden on edge.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Do either of you have your phones on you?” she asked.

  Brenden reached in his pocket and pulled his out.

  Melody took it and after he gave her his security code, she tapped his apps. Not surprising, nothing was working. He’d turned everything off when they took off from Mexico City.

  “Look.” She turned his map toward him. “The map we’re seeing on the in-flight stuff isn’t this. Comparing these two, we’re a few hundred miles off-course.”

  “There’s got to be a good reason.” Vaughn leaned over Brenden’s shoulder. “Maybe our flight was diverted?”

  “Maybe. I’m going to go talk to the captain. Brenden? Stay close to Priscilla.”

  Brenden glanced down the plane to where Priscilla sat in her window seat, a fuzzy blanket pulled up under her chin, staring out the window. Last night she’d had theories, outlandish ideas that scared her. If she knew they were off course, it would set off all those same warnings for her.

  She couldn’t know. At least not right now.

  He returned to his seat, avoiding eye contact with the others. Grant hadn’t spoken to him yet, but Brenden knew it was coming. Grant had always discouraged them from getting too close to clients, even if there weren’t rules against that sort of thing.

  Brenden sank into his seat and mentally boxed up Melody’s discovery. His job was Priscilla, keeping her calm, safe. She had her feet up in her seat, eyes drifting shut again.

  “You’re the best, you know?” She reached for her drink.

  He sat back and watched her drink deeply of the fizzy liquid. She glanced at him, the skin around her eyes crinkling with the hint of a smile.

  Yeah, he shouldn’t be here having this conversation or basking in her presence. He was setting himself up for disappointment, and yet he didn’t want to move away from her. He was caught in a
trap of his own making.

  “Brenden?” She set the drink down.

  “Hm?”

  She turned her face toward him, her cheek resting against the leather seatback. “Why aren’t there more men like you?”

  The question caught him off guard. The easy answer was that most people were smart enough to do something else with their lives. But he didn’t think that was what she wanted to hear. No, she was getting at something else.

  Her lashes fluttered, and she closed her eyes for a brief moment.

  He was content to wait her out, having already learned that silence wasn’t a bad thing between them.

  “I’m so used to men every man I meet being in competition with me somehow I forgot that’s not how it should be.” She set her can on his tray table then wrapped her arms around her knees drawn up to her chest, feet perched on the edge of her seat.

  “What do you mean?” he asked slowly. From what she’d said, she’d stopped competing a long time ago.

  “I mean it’s like every man I know thinks we’re competition. If I meet someone out of work, it’s usually at the gym and it’s this weird macho, I can take you, thing. If it’s at work, it’s like I’m always having to prove myself. It’s just nice to sit here, talk and not feel like I’m on the spot or anything.”

  Brenden played those words through his mind. The visuals that came to mind made him want to bust a few skulls together. If he was a different person, if he thought he could be the man she needed...

  One side of her mouth lifted in a lop-sided smile. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, you’re a good guy. I’m glad I trusted my gut about you.”

  He’d never wanted to be normal more than he did in that moment. His stomach tightened, rising into his chest. If he thought he could be that man, if he thought he wouldn’t disappoint her, things might be different.

  What would that look like to have someone in his life? A person who understood him fully?

  Priscilla’s eyes went wide, and she grasped the arm rests. “What was that?”

  Brenden’s stomach kept rising then did a sharp dive.

  Both their drinks careened off the side of the tray table.

  That wasn’t his stomach.

  Something was wrong with the plane.

  Melody’s concern slammed into him.

  “Seatbelt. Shoes. Now.” Brenden shoved the tray table up. “Grant?”

  One of the flight attendants stumbled toward a seat, her eyes wide, face pale.

  “This is your captain speaking—” The speakers cut off, leaving them in suspense.

  Melody emerged from the galley, her hands braced on either wall, eyes wide, her face pale.

  Whatever was wrong was really wrong.

  “Mel, what’s the deal?” Grant called out.

  “Someone’s messed with the plane. The pilot said—”

  The cabin shook. Anything not secure went flying. Melody fell into the aisle. Priscilla gripped Brenden’s arm. Things began to buzz. His ears suddenly felt clogged, as though he needed to yawn.

  Grant leapt out of his seat and managed to drag Melody to safety.

  The speakers dinged just as the bulkhead over them dropped oxygen bags.

  “This is your captain,” the man said. “Brace yourselves for impact.”

  FRIDAY. FRIDAY. EL Paso, Texas.

  Damian stared at the tracking data on his screen.

  “Fuck,” he snarled.

  The plane had begun its malfunction half an hour ago, right on schedule. By then the auto-pilot had swerved off path. The pilot’s communications were cut off, rerouted to Damian who had a series of prerecorded loops to play.

  “What?” Victoria sat from where she’d been lounging on the sofa.

  Damian tapped through the readings.

  This had to be wrong.

  Only, it wasn’t.

  “What is it?” she demanded.

  His body went cold, his emotions numb. It was time to work. “Load up. We’re heading out.”

  “You fucked it up, didn’t you? God, Damian, I told you—”

  He whirled to face her and grabbed her by the throat, forcing her back down on the cushions. Her wide, fearful eyes were all he saw.

  “Do what I tell you,” he snarled. “Do you understand?”

  She gripped his arm, her sharp little nails digging in even as her face began turning red.

  He let go and turned back to the computer.

  “Fuck, D.”

  “Go. Get the others ready to move.” He leaned toward the screen.

  Every job had hiccups. He could fix this. The other little surprise on the plane would ensure they got there first. It was just a matter of getting on the road now.

  He stared at the green dot on the screen a moment. It was time to activate the failsafe. But if he did that, no one would know where the plane was. Not him. Not first responders. The location he had now was his only lead.

  Damian reached over and tapped in the code.

  The dot blinked off the screen.

  It was done.

  Now his team had to get there before anyone else. Based on the coordinates, it would take around three hours to get to the crash site. So long as no one else was looking for the plane it should be enough of a head start to get them there before anyone else.

  He grabbed a Kevlar vest out of the wardrobe and strapped it on over his clothes. He tugged his bootlaces tighter, and he was ready to go. The rest of his kit would be in the van.

  Damian headed out of the office and his personal apartment and into the rest of the facility. He’d purchased it and improved upon it to fit his needs.

  Victoria and the rest of their seven-man team stood clustered around the vans. The men were all focused on Victoria, who was speaking in softer tones, too low for Damian to hear.

  “Everyone ready?” he called out as he descended the last of the stairs.

  Victoria turned to stare at him, brows drawn down, mouth framed by frown lines. She never had liked being put in her place. He shouldn’t have fucked her.

  “What kind of job is this?” Aaron asked. He was one of the few guys who’d been with Damian more than a year. Aaron was also one of the smart ones keeping his distance from Victoria.

  “It’s a clean-up job.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You fucked up and now we have to go out there and fix it.”

  The trio of new guys scowled at him. They were good at following orders, but not terribly bright.

  “Victoria.” Damian stopped a dozen or so feet away and met her gaze. He’d give her one shot. “Get in the damn van.”

  “No. Why should we have to fix your mess?” She planted her hands on her hips and glared at him.

  Damian grit his teeth. She was challenging his leadership, acting as if this was a democratic society when it wasn’t. Damian’s word was law. If he didn’t nip this in the bud now, it would only cause more problems.

  His mind was made up in an instant.

  He drew the gun at his hip and fired, hitting Victoria dead in the chest. She staggered back, her face gone white in surprise, mouth and eyes wide. Her body fell, a pool of blood spreading fast. The bullet was a nasty piece of work, churning up tissue and bone. There was no way she’d survive even one shot like that.

  “Least anyone else forget I’m in charge here.” Damian nodded at the vehicles. “Get in the damn vans now.”

  It was a pity he was losing Victoria now. She was a fantastic sniper, but everyone had an end date on their usefulness. At least he wouldn’t have to pay her for this job.

  FRIDAY. SOMEWHERE IN Gila National Park, New Mexico.

  God, everything hurt.

  Priscilla leaned back against something and stared up at the stars, clutching the blanket to her chest. Every couple of breaths a new, sharp pain stabbed her.

  What the hell happened?

  One moment she’d been talking to Brenden, then chaos.

  She lifted her hand to the side of her head, brushing back her hair. A sudden
throbbing begun where her fingers touched. What hit her in the head? How were they on the ground? What the hell happened?

  At least she wasn’t dead.

  “Priscilla? Hey.” A large figure approached her.

  She stared up at Brenden, still too numb to respond to his presence.

  “I was able to get two boxes. The rest are crushed pretty badly.” He knelt and sat the aforementioned boxes next to her.

  “What—what happened?” She reached over and placed her hand on the box while trying to focus on Brenden’s face. It was too dark to see him well.

  “That’s what we’re trying to find out. Come on, Grant’s getting the crew together to talk it through over there.” Brenden twisted and gestured to a bit of clear ground where human shaped figures had gathered.

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “Need a hand?”

  “I think I’ve got it.”

  “Let me help you.” Brenden stood and took her wrist in his grasp.

  She hoisted herself up with his help. Her back twinged and her knee ached. The world did a pirouette before settling down. For a moment she stood there, holding her breath, but no new pains jabbed at her and her sense of balance held firm.

  Priscilla gazed at the plane for a moment. One wing was gone, and the tail was badly damaged. The whole thing tilted to the right, the remaining wing propping the great bird up against rocks, trees and brush.

  “We should have died,” she muttered.

  Brenden’s voice was grim. “Yeah.”

  “How did we survive?”

  He straightened, carrying the boxes. “Turns out your captain has a lot of experience flying. He was a Vietnam pilot. Real good one. Follow me.”

  He picked his way over the rocky terrain toward the others. Priscilla stayed close behind him, often resting her hand on his back to steady herself. Every couple of steps she frowned at the plane.

  “When did the lights go off? Weren’t there lights on a few moments ago? Or was that fire? How hard did I hit my head?” Priscilla asked.

  “You didn’t hit it that hard,” was his soft answer.

  She didn’t see sparks or emergency lights or anything from the plane. It was wrong. Like the whole plane had gone dead. But why? And how? Her foggy head couldn’t fill in the blank for her.