Page 3 of The Pilot & the Athlete

She could see a few more large buildings throughout the area—airplane hangars, she realized. Small planes were lined up off to the side of a lit runway. It was a small, out of the way airport.

They were flying her to Big T’s lawyer. Would she have to fight them off the entire flight? Would she even be able to? Despair and darkness overcame her. She thought witnessing a murder and giving up her Olympic dreams was horrifying. Nothing in her previously happy, busy, and fulfilling life could’ve prepared her for this. All she could do was pray in her head over and over again. She had no hope of rescue, but the Lord would be her strength and her comfort through her imminent death.

Please! I need strength and comfort in spades.

The SUV idled forward, driving through the huge opening the cargo door had revealed and pulling up next to a black jet. Lights were on inside the jet, but the interior of the building was dim.

Popping the door open, Lyle yanked her out ofthe vehicle. His arms were a clamp around her waist, making it impossible to draw a full breath. He was going to bruise internal organs. “Scream all you want,” he said. “Nobody’s around to hear you and Jaden won’t slice you up yet. Just don’t puke on me.”

If only she could puke on demand.Please, she begged heaven above.Please.

She didn’t even know what she was pleading for. Two months ago, she’d been a part of the Olympic team, the media speculating about her winning medals in two individual events and possibly two relays. She’d been a beloved daughter and sister and coach to incredible teenagers who she adored and who worshipped her and loved that she attempted to use their teenage slang.

Now she was a witness, and not a protected one. She was a toy for these foul men. No man had ever messed with her like this before. She had muscles and grit and could give an average-sized man a run for his money in any fight. Sadly, her athleticism and strength wouldn’t benefit her against four trained brutes.

The only unknowns about her life were whether her FBI agents had survived, and if she’d be raped and tortured before she was murdered tonight. She prayed for her family, her FBI agents, her teammates, her kiddos. She didn’t know how to pray for herself. She could usually take care of herself, but she always gave praise and gratitude to God and turned to Him for light and peace. She knew the Lord had blessed her with talents, great support, joy in her life, and a hard work ethic.

Right now, she had nothing. Despair blanketed her like black tar, oozing over her and sealing off any hope of escape.

Lyle lifted her off her feet and she cried out involuntarily. At five-eight and a hundred and sixty pounds of pure muscle, she’dnever had a man pick her up and manhandle her before. He easily carried her across the cement and up a few steps onto the plane.

Her gaze darted around the interior of the jet. It was an opulent space with white leather seats and chrome accents. Of course a crime lord like Big T would have a lit plane. The man was in prison. Shouldn’t the FBI have seized his plane? Wouldn’t his men have moved on to un-locked up criminals? Big T must be powerful, even behind bars.

The men who abducted her climbed onto the plane and Ross shut the door behind them.

“The pilot’s here?” the man from the driver’s seat finally spoke.

“Got a text he was doing the pre-flight checks and we’ll take off in two minutes,” Jaden, the blond knife-welder, said.

“All right.” The driver took his mask off, his bald head glistening in the overhead lights. He was the opposite of his handsome, blond cohort. He was bulky and strong. His face had a jagged scar running down his cheek and a smooth scar distorted his upper lip. Blood red tattoos dotted a thick circle around each eye. His neck was covered with a tattoo of talons with knife-like claws. His eyes were pale blue and piercing. He had no eyebrows or eyelashes. He was horrifying.

“I’m Jonah.” He sneered at her, his gaze roving over her bare flesh and her swimsuit. “Jaden will keep things running smoothly and you and I will have plenty of time to get to know each other on the flight.”

Shay tried to back up, but she ran into Lyle, who wrapped her up tight.

Even though she knew it wouldn’t help, she screamed out of sheer terror.

The cockpit door banged open. Everyone startled and turned, Lyle yanking her around in front of him. The pilot strode out of the doorframe. The man had thick dark hair and a breathtakingly handsome face. He was tall and well-built, more smooth muscle compared to her captors’ brute strength. This man’s defined and tanned arms, muscular chest, and lean legs filled out his Henley shirt and slacks perfectly. Shay couldn’t believe she was gawking at this pilot, one of her captors, the man who would fly her to certain death. He captured her attention and would likely command the gazes of everyone in the room no matter where he appeared.

Shay’s eyes narrowed as she surveyed him and then they widened. This wasn’t just some scum-ball like the other four men. She knew him. This man was a warrior, an elite pilot, her hometown’s hero, her secret crush of many years.

It couldn’t be. Could it?

She shook her head to clear it, blinked, blinked again. “Paul?” she whispered.

Was it possible that Paul Braven, retired Air Force hero and one of her older brother’s best friends in high school, was standing before her? Tall, dark, devastatingly handsome, with a magnetism that had every girl from Glenwood Springs, Colorado drooling over him. Paul Braven. He had some fancy Air Force title that meant he was a special ops hero as well as an accomplished pilot.

Paul.

Even with the brute behind her, holding her securely, his cringy arms splayed across her midsection, she felt peace, safety, and the elusive comfort she’d been praying for. This was fire. The heroic, kind, and handsome Lieutenant Paul Braven would never let these men torture, rape, and kill her.

She smiled tremulously at him, waiting for him to command the men to release her. Then he’d kick them off the plane, hold her and comfort her. After she gave him a sweet kiss of gratitude, he’d fly her to safety. Would he stay by her side? Give her a chance to reveal her crush on him?

“Are you ready for takeoff?” he asked, focused on the blond, not responding to her saying his name or her staring at him like the hero she knew him to be.

Wait … no! Paul wasn’t going to rescue her? Was he going to pretend he didn’t know her?

Despair crushed her and she leaned heavily against the man holding her. Please, no. Paul either didn’t recognize her or didn’t care to admit he did. Once again, hope dripped through her fingertips like sunshine converted to black, sticky tar.

---