“I’m not in danger. Not yet anyway. I might not be asked to testify. They’ll get the plane, link it to Aalto, and the feds can make those bodyguards sing, right?” His expression probably wasn’t that reassuring, for she added, faltering, “What do you think my odds are?”
“If they crack the case without you, great. If not, not so good, I’m afraid.” Testifying would mean having to look over her shoulder forever. Maldonado was that dangerous and bloodthirsty. Jail wouldn’t stop him. And standing up to him would mean witness protection. Jack kept that to himself. She hadn’t realized it by herself, and he wasn’t too keen on upsetting her more than necessary.
“No good deed goes unpunished, right?” She smiled sadly.
He didn’t answer. Her good deed had been fucking illegal, but yeah, he could understand the sentiment.
“You didn’t tell me what you were doing at the police station,” Elle said after a long pause.
“No, I didn’t.”
She shook her head, laughing softly. “And you won’t.”
No, he wouldn’t.
At that moment, the crazy lady, Eve, came back from the bathroom.
“Dear, could I change seats with you?” she asked the woman sitting beside Jack. “I have some things to discuss with this gentleman.”
“Sure, no problem.”
Damn, damn, damn.
“There are two suspicious men in row thirty-two,” Eve said to him. “I think we should—”
The flight attendant approaching, a third Scotch in her hand, interrupted her. “Here you go.”
“No,” he said, before Elle could grab the glass or even say anything. “She’s had enough.”
“I could use a little sip,” Eve chimed in, holding out her hand.
In any other circumstances, he would have kept his mouth shut and let the chips fall where they may, but he found himself saying, “I don’t think the Scotch would go with the blue pill.”
Eve waved him off. “It’s just an itty bitty pill. How bad can that be?”
Famous last words. Especially when the person taking the itty bitty blue pill was already paranoid enough.
The flight attendant handed her the drink and then turned to him. “Can I get anything for you, sir?”
He shook his head. “Not thirsty.”
“Something to snack on?”
He shook his head again. “Not hungry.”
“Be sure to let me know if you need anything at all,” she replied with a smile, then left.
Elle jabbed him with her elbow. “Dummy, she wasn’t talking about drinks or food. She was checking you out, and what she was offering was herself.”
“She’s right,” Eve mumbled after downing her Scotch. “Even I noticed it and I’m a bit…absent.”
Absent. Sure.
“Not my type,” he replied curtly, hoping the conversation would end there.
Fat chance.
Elle turned her inquisitive eyes toward him. “What’s your type? And what’s not to like about her? She’s a gorgeous blonde, much like the one you brought to James’s wedding. Smaller rack but stunning nevertheless.”
“That blonde from James’s wedding was a babysitting job I got stuck with. Pretty much like now,” he growled.
She let out a giggle. “Boy you’re rude. Good I’m a bit buzzed or I would be frigging offended. Now answer, what’s your type? You said that you wanted to get married. A guy as task-orientated as you must already have a list of attributes your future bride requires.”
It looked like this crowd was not going to let it go, so he opted for the shorter way to end this conversation. “I want a traditional wife, whose priority would be our children and me. I want a homemaker, not a career type.” Or anything closely resembling the irresponsible, party-crazy woman he’d had at home while growing up. He wanted his kids to have a mother greeting them with a smile and a plate of cookies when they came home from school. A present, involved mom.
“You mean one of those women who bake their own bread and sew their own underwear?”
“I don’t care about the underwear but, yeah, I’d like my wife baking our own bread. Growing our own produce. I’m an old-fashioned guy.”
Elle looked at Eve and both burst into laughter. “You should ask Violet if any of her friends are available at the Eternal Sun. If that fails, you can always try Amish communities.”
Ha-ha.
The flight was three hours, but it felt like thirty.
He recalled his eleven-month stint in Afghanistan more fondly. And that had gone faster.
When they started descending, they hit a pocket of air, and the whole plane rattled and jumped.
The captain’s voice came over the speaker, announcing turbulence due to strong winds.
Great. Bumpy landing on top of everything else.
“Shit,” Elle mumbled as the plane trembled. All the relaxation and chatter were gone. She was tense, clawing the armrests again.
“They’ve taken the plane,” Eve whispered almost in tears. “The captain is just trying to keep us calm.”
“I neutralized them,” Jack muttered against his better judgment.
“What?”
“When I went to the bathroom. I neutralized the hijackers,” he lied shamelessly. “I have them tied down and gagged at the end of the cabin. Nothing to worry about.”
He caught Elle’s smile, and for some reason he felt ten feet tall. And that her smile mattered to him one way or the other pissed him off to no end.