Page 18 of Aviator
I pick my way over the splintered wood and step into the cramped space. The scent of mildew fights its way into my nose over the concoction of smoke and decay. There’s no curtain on the shower, and there are yellow stains in the empty toilet. I begin to tremble as the reality of my situation begins to sink in. We’re in the middle of nowhere, Kady is nowhere to be seen, and I have no idea where they could have gone. My whole body begins to shake, and my teeth gnaw on the inside of my cheek so hard I worry I may draw blood.
I give myself a second and quell the panic that threatens to overtake me and wipe my wet eyes. I wish I could splash some water on my face, but nothing comes out of the faucet except a deep groan and a rattle from the pipes.Naturally. I bark out a laugh and squeeze my eyes closed to keep from completely losing it. When I open them, my gaze catches on the dust-covered mirror, and I frown. Something’s scrawled at the bottom in the thick coating.
Project Sentinel
What the hell does that mean? My heart beats faster. I know with more certainty than anything else that Kady left this for me. Whatever Project Sentinel is has something to do with what the hell’s happening.
It’s a clue.
I turn at the sound of footsteps and find Dean. “Time to go.”
“But—”
“Do I need to drag your ass out of here?” he growls.
I bite my lower lip. “No, but I—”
Dean grabs my bicep and tugs me out of the bathroom. I don’t fight him because I don’t need the bruises and know there’s nothing else left for me to find. But when we reach the door, I yank my arm free. “I can walk,” I say.
“Congratulations,” he deadpans.
“You’re an asshole, you know that, right?”
“And you’re stalling.” He looks out the bare front window. I don’t know how much he can see, considering how grimy it is.
“I’m trying to tell you what I found.”
“I don’t care,” he says without turning around.
“But it—”
He turns, leveling me with a stare full of resentment and. . . hate? No, I don’t know. Whatever the emotion is, it’s gone before I can decipher it. “Look, lady, I don’t give a damn what you found. I’m not your hero here. I’m not going to help you track down your sister. I don’t really give a shit where she went. You paid me to bring you here and get you back. You’re here. She’s not. It’s time to get the fuck out. If you think I’m going to prance around the United States following clues, you got the wrong impression of me. . . unless, of course, you’re willing to open up those purse strings again and pay a pretty penny.”
My pleas die on my tongue. Likehellam I going to beg him for help again. Like hell am I going to shed another tear in his presence. And like hell will I give him another cent. I clamp down on the words that threaten to spill out. I have begged too many men to be worthy of their time, and look where it’s gotten me. A father who couldn’t care less about his kids and a fiancé who stuck his tongue down the throat of the first woman who paid him any extra attention.
I’ll go home and hire a private detective or something. Anyone would be better than Dean. Even the devil himself.
He must read something in my expression because his lips twitch into a barely there sneer. “Finally, the first sensible thing you’ve done all day. Keep your mouth shut, and we’ll be out of each other’s hair in no time.”
Before he can say anything else, the distant sound of engines pierces through the tension between us, growing louder with each passing second. Panic tightens around my heart as I realize we’re not alone.
He turns to me with an intense look that says it all. We have to get out of here. Now. “I don’t see them yet, but they’re close. Stay behind me, Kenna. I mean it. You stay right on my ass and don’t stop for anything. We’re going straight for the helicopter as fast as you can. So move your ass, princess, because you don’t want to be here when they get back.”
But I’m already running out of the door and sprinting toward the helicopter with Dean tight on my heels. “Shit,” I hear him bark out at my back.
Thankfully, there’s nothing in sight between us and the clearing where Dean landed the helicopter except for snow and trees. The roar of engines grows louder with each step, causing my heart rate to increase as adrenaline pumps through my veins like wildfire. We reach the helicopter just as two dark figures appear from behind a nearby tree, their faces are concealed by shadows, but their intentions are clear from even this distance. They’re here for us. Gunshots ring out, the bullets whizzing dangerously close. Panic fuels our desperate flight as Dean hops into the pilot’s seat. I scramble into the passenger side, praying we’ll get out before it’s too late.
The rotors spin furiously, struggling against the snow-laden gusts. Just as we begin to lift off, gunfire riddles the helicopter, shattering glass and pinging against the metal frame. The helicopter jerks violently, and Dean fights to maintain control, his face etched with determination.
“Hold on!” he shouts over the din, his voice barely audible above the roar of the engine. I wince and scrabble for my headset, clamping it down over my ears.
Finally, the helicopter lurches free from the ground, ascending into the storm. The wind howls around us, threatening to rip us from the sky, but Dean’s skilled hands guide us through the turbulence. We soar above the snow-covered peaks, leaving behind the chaos and danger that lurked below—for now.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DEAN
“Are you okay?”I ask as I peer down at the landscape, my eyes scanning for the two people who were shooting at us. Something about them had been familiar, but I couldn’t place it, which pisses me off.
