Page 29 of Reckless Woman

The jet gives another lurch and Eli manages to drop us down to twenty thousand feet before he’s bending-double over the controls.

“Grayson—”

“Go!” I order, pulling him out of his seat as a high-pitched whine fills the cabin.

“Out of fuel,” Eli gasps, falling to his knees. “We need to land her now.”

“Where are we?” Taking control of the joystick, I drop us down another thousand feet and switch the alarm off.

“Somewhere over Virginia,” he croaks from the floor.

“Only eight mountain ranges to dodge.” I drop the jet again, too fast this time, and she groans out in pain as well. “Tell me more about the man at Teterboro.”

All I get this time is a grunt.

“Eli?”

“I was ragging him about being a Lakers guy.” Eli crawls a couple of meters through the swinging door to reach Andy’s body. There’s white foam rimming the unconscious man’s mouth. I watch him check his pulse. When he swings his gaze back to me, I see the dawning comprehension in his eyes.

“I can’t feel his pulse, Grayson…I can’t fucking feel—”

“Describe him to me,” I say harshly. “Concentrate, Eli.”

“Tall.” He doubles over again, gasping. “Tan-skinned, like Santiago. Same accent.”

“You mean he was Colombian?”

He nods before vomiting his guts up. “Jesus Christ.Thisache.”

“Suck it in, Eli. Breathe that shit out.”

“Am I gonna die too, Grayson?”

It’s a closing scene rhetorical. There’s an acceptance in his voice already.

Yes.

“No.” The lie comes so easily I almost convince myself. “I’m putting this jet down the first chance I get. Tell me how to kill the radio and transponder.”

Eli vomits again and wipes his mouth. “Gray box next to the navigation display. It’s a homemade device. It jams radar, radio, black box, the lot.”

I crank the dial to the Max without a second thought.

“He gave me his card.”

Eli’s voice is so weak now it’s barely a whisper.

“The fuel guy?”

He nods before vomiting again. His time on this flight is nearly done. “Jacket pocket.”

Holding the joystick steady with one hand, I find what I’m looking for in a screwed-up black Bomber next to the seat.

White card.

Gold letters.

Black deliverance.