Page 17 of Craving Chaos

“How very chivalrous of you.” Despite everything, her murmured words are light and teasing. She’s laughing in the face of our circumstances, and I don’t know if I should be reassured or terrified.

“As if you’d want chivalry even if it were offered,” I shoot back, following her lead.

Her answering grin warms the room a solid five degrees. “Now you’re catching on.”

I shake my head with a small huff of amusement, though it withers fast. “Listen, Shae. I don’t want you doing anything crazy.”

Her voice takes on an equally somber tone. “You know as well as I do that the longer this goes on, the worse it is for us. We need to get out of here ASAP. I doubt we’ll have more than one chance. We need to use it wisely.”

“Agreed.” My voice is as grim as our circumstances.

Before we can say any more, the hum of a propellor engine grows louder until a small prop plane comes into view outside the hangar door window.

Shae leans in and speaks softly next to my ear. “I need you to trust me, Renzo. Tell me you’ll follow my lead.” The pleading in her voice rocks me, but it’s the sound of my name on her lips that clamps tight like a vise around my chest. I’m not sure I’ve heard her use my first name, and I like it far more than I should.

God, help me.

“It’s all you.”

CHAPTER 8

SHAE

Renzo watches me intently, wondering why I haven’t made my move. Wishing he knew what the hell I have planned. I can’t explain and risk someone hearing. Like I said, we have one shot. I have to make sure the timing is right, and that means waiting until the ratio of men is better.

It's a safe assumption that part of this group is getting on that plane parked outside. It’s rather small. I don’t think all ten of us will fit. I could be wrong, but I’m hoping this is where our party splits up. It would be ideal if Renzo and I stayed on solid ground. As the universe sees fit to challenge me today, I am not surprised when they usher us onto the plane. It’s a cargo transport plane for taking small loads of supplies to remote areas. No seats besides the cockpit, and the metal insides are currently empty.

We’re seated against opposite walls of the plane, facing one another. As expected, only four accompany us—two in the cockpit and two in the back with us.

It’s fucking freezing in the plane. We’re definitely somewhere north. Beyond the tarmac, the trees and ground have a solid blanket of snow. But thanks to the coat I’m still wearing and the anticipation thrumming in my veins, I’m not overwhelmed by the cold.

The engine starts up and makes hearing anything beyond the roaring almost impossible. Renzo’s penetrating stare is a cattle prod urging me to action. I want to hiss at him that I’m working on it, but I can’t afford to lose focus. Taking the small pocketknife out of my back pocket and getting it open without drawing attention to myself isn’t easy.

I was enamored with pickpockets when I was a kid and practiced endlessly until I was an expert. The skill has come in handy innumerable times, like today, when I stole the small tool out of Mr. Black Eyes pocket during our scuffle. Picking his pockets was the whole purpose of riling him up. I hadn’t actually expected to escape or get information from the man. I was looking to nab something that might help us, and it worked. I could hardly believe my luck when my fingers wrapped around the familiar object—small enough to go unnoticed but crucial to our escape.

Our captors are a mere five feet away. Any overt movement on my part will easily be seen, so I am extra careful to disguise what I’m doing. When the plane bounces down the runway, the jiggling helps disguise my movements, but they’ve used two ties, and the little blade is hardly more than a nail file. I don’t get free until the plane is well into the air, and we’ve been coasting for several long minutes.

I hate that we aren’t seated next to one another because I have no way to get the knife to Renzo. I’ll have to launch my attack on my own and hope for the best.

A small space, uneven footing, and three-to-one odds, possibly four-to-one. Not ideal, but I have the element of surprise, and that can make up for a hell of a lot.

I spear Renzo with a look that screams, get ready. The determined set of his jaw tells me he understands. I flick the knife into his lap, then launch myself to my feet fast enough to kick one of the two men in the head, knocking him out with one strike. The other is up in a heartbeat, as is the co-pilot. The cabin isn’t large enough for us to stand fully upright, though the men have to hunch more than I do.

Behind me, Renzo curses as he fumbles with the knife.

One of the men yells, then runs at me. I absorb his momentum into a backward roll, taking him with me and tossing him behind me with a kick from my legs. While he’s recovering from his unexpected circus trick, I square off with the third man.

The pilot yells at us but stays put in the cockpit.

I use his hollering as a distraction and sweep out the legs of the third guy. He snags my hand on his way down, taking me with him, and we grapple with one another on the floor. What he doesn’t know is this is my happy place. I do my best work one-on-one, hand-to-hand.

I maneuver myself until I can get my thighs around his neck, then squeeze like a python. His body stiffens with panic. There is no escape from this hold.

My eyes collide with Renzo’s awestruck stare. It only lasts a fraction of a second, but the respect I sense in him makes me feel like I could take on an entire army.

The moment is short lived, however. When my gaze continues onward to the man I’d thrown to the back of the plane, my blood runs cold.

He roars a single word in his native tongue, then pulls out a small handgun holstered beneath his coat. He has to know guns and planes don’t mix, but the fury on his face tells me he doesn’t care. He’s prepared to fire as he aims the gun directly at me.

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