Page 40 of Deadly Ruck
"Only these guys," I said softly, and waved back with slightly less energy. Right now, I wanted a long soak in the bath and a bottle of wine. Not to mention hugs from all of my ruck boys.
"We all love you," Atlas said. He put an arm around me and kissed my temple.
"I love all of you too," I said.
To the pilot I added, "I wouldn't try flying this until you have the bullet hole looked at. Just in case it breached the hull. Or whatever the outside of the aircraft is called."
Flying an unpressurised plane above a certain altitude could be deadly. Which was exactly why I fired into the ceiling. No matter how desperate Jones got, he wasn't going to risk flying in a damaged plane. He never would have risked himself.
The pilot sighed and turned off the engine, letting it putter before it finally fell silent.
"I'm just hired to fly this aircraft. I don't know anything about the person that chartered it." He held his hands to either side.
"Then you won't mind us checking," Atlas said.
"Go ahead," the pilot said. If he was innocent as he said he was, he could walk away. With a cover story, of course.
"I said fuck off," Jones snarled from behind us.
I turned to see three of Nyla's men trying to wrangle him down onto his stomach and pull his arms behind his back. He was wriggling and shoving, trying to fight them off.
"He might be right," I said so only Atlas could hear. "The cartel could try to rescue him."
To the side, Dallas and Jay were opening the aircraft door and trying to work out how to lower the steps to the ground.
"They won't succeed," Atlas said, looking in the same direction I was. "The cartel, I mean. Jay and Dallas are all over getting the steps down."
"Yes, they are," I said. Although, it looked as though they were about to Google how to do it. "Can you be so sure about the cartel? If people want something desperately enough, they'll do anything. He's their leader."
"Not anymore he's not." Atlas gaze slid to Nyla, who hadn't moved in the last handful of minutes. The barrel of her gun was still aimed firmly at Jones' head.
"You really think they'll accept that while he's still alive?" I asked. Not that men were ever misogynistic or anything.
"You really think he'll be alive that long?" Atlas countered.
"A day or two might be all it takes," I said.
Dallas and Jay finally had the steps down and Storm, Frost and Ramsey hurried up to greet them.
"Asshole!" Storm pointed his gun at Atlas. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you right now."
"He's on our side," I said. "He was pretending to be with them."
Storm's brows dipped. "Are you sure? He could be pretending right now."
"I'm certain," I assured him. "I promise."
Storm lowered the gun a fraction. "What about that asshole?" He pointed the barrel toward Jones.
"Definitely not on our side," I said. "He's a horrible excuse for a human being and deserves to suffer."
Jones took the distraction we offered. He kicked one of the men trying to hold him down, in the groin, and threw off the other one. Leaping to his feet, he lunged at Nyla.
He managed to push her back against the side of the aircraft opposite the door, where the tiny galley kitchen was. The impact knocked the gun from her hand. He wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed.
She wriggled, trying to get free. Her face turned pink, eyes wide with fear and frustration. She’d come so close, only to die now?
Not on my watch.
