Midnight Action Page 32

  “The engines were taken out,” he said tersely. “Most likely by a pressure bomb that was armed the moment we went down in altitude.”

  He reached Noelle just as she slammed her hand against the wall and let out an angry expletive. “No chutes,” she informed him.

  His body went colder than a block of ice. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “There’s nothing here, Jim. Someone cleaned out the emergency gear.”

  “Sergio,” he muttered, referring to the owner of the private airport.

  Son of a bitch.

  “Son of a bitch!” Noelle snapped, voicing his thoughts. “I thought you said you trusted the guy.”

  “I never had reason not to trust him before,” he snapped back. “I’ve used his services dozens of times.”

  “Well, the bastard sold you out!”

  For the first time since he’d known her, Noelle actually looked worried. Her blue eyes darted around the cabin, then focused on the open door of the cockpit, where their pilot was struggling to keep the plane in the air.

  “Air pressure keeps dropping,” Giovanni yelled out to them. “Commencing rapid emergency descent!”

  Morgan took a breath, tried to assess the situation with the meager facts he had. All right. He knew that a small explosion near the tail had crippled both engines. The jet was gliding now and would continue to do so, and the oxygen masks in the cabin were functional and would ensure that everyone stayed conscious if the pressure continued to drop.

  At the moment, they were safe, and they might be able to stay that way if Giovanni executed a successful emergency landing.

  But there was no guarantee of that. And no guarantee that the fire in the tail wouldn’t find its way to the wings, where the jet’s fuel was stored.

  If that happened, they’d all die in a giant fireball before they even hit the ground.

  With a grim look, he turned to Noelle and voiced his concerns, and she immediately vetoed the idea of sticking it out.

  “I’m not dying in a goddamn plane explosion,” she announced. “I’d rather jump out without a parachute.”

  “No need. I’ve got some chutes right here.”

  The smug announcement had come from Ash, who strode up to them with his duffel bag hanging off his shoulder.

  Relief blasted into Morgan’s chest. “Are you serious?”

  Ash grinned. “As a heart attack. Never fear, the rookie’s here.” Without time to waste, he dropped the bag and bent down to unzip it.

  “You carry extra chutes in your go bag?” Reilly demanded from his perch near the door, his green eyes sparkling with amusement despite his ashen complexion.

  “I was a Boy Scout,” Ash called out. “Always be prepared and all that shit.”

  The rookie tossed a backpack to Reilly, then held up the remaining two and glanced at Morgan. “That’s all I’ve got.”

  He cursed out loud. “You only brought three? So much for being prepared.”

  “One for me, the other two for Liam and Sully, because the three of us left Costa Rica together.”

  Morgan took a second to go over the logistics. “We’ll jump tandem. Noelle’s with me. Ash, you take Cate. Reilly, you’re with Giovanni.”

  He turned to his daughter, and noticed that even though her face was whiter than snow, she looked surprisingly calm. “You okay, sweetheart?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.” She took a breath. “Are we really jumping out of this plane?”

  “It’s either that, or we go the crash-landing route and hope the fuel tanks don’t blow up before that.”

  “I still don’t understand,” she burst out. “What the hell is a pressure bomb?”

  Ash fielded the question as he strapped his backpack on. “You ever seen the movie Speed?”

  Cate nodded.

  “You know how the bus was rigged to explode if the speedometer dipped below fifty? Well, it’s the same thing with this plane, only it’s altitude instead of speed.” Ash rubbed his hands together, then reached into his bag for a coil of rope. “And fuck what everyone else says—Keanu Reeves rocked in that film. Dude’s a legend.”

  “Save that bullshit for your film criticism seminar,” Morgan muttered as he shrugged into his chute pack.

  He left Cate in Ash’s capable hands and raced back to the cockpit, where Giovanni was fighting with the throttle.

  “Giovanni, we’re bailing. Can’t risk the explosion reaching the fuel line.”

  The pilot glanced over his shoulder. “I can land this bird.”

  “Sorry, man. We can’t risk it.” Morgan snapped his harness into place and tightened the straps. “Come on, Gio, we’ve gotta go.”

  “I can land this thing,” Giovanni insisted as he wiped the sweat off his brow. Beads of it clung to his thick mustache and dripped down his tanned face, but the determination in his eyes didn’t waver. “Go on without me. I’ll get this bird on the ground.”

  “You sure?”

  The pilot gave a firm nod. “Go. I’ll see you on the ground.”

  Reluctance seized Morgan’s chest, but he didn’t have time to argue with the man. If Giovanni wanted to go down with his plane, then that was his choice. Morgan had to focus on saving his daughter, and Noelle, and his men, not a crazy maverick who seemed to almost be enjoying himself as he prepared for an emergency landing.

  Spinning around, Morgan ran back to the cabin in time to catch the rope Ash threw at him. Christ, he didn’t like this. Tandem jumping without a secondary harness was dangerous as hell.

  Noelle didn’t look too thrilled about it either, but she hurried over when Morgan gestured for her to come. He looped the rope around his waist, then knitted his brows in concentration as he pondered the best way to secure Noelle to him.

  “If you let me go, I’ll kill you,” she said fiercely.

  It amazed him that even in a life-and-death situation, she was able to bring a grin to his lips. “What’s your poison, babe? You want it face-to-face, or ass to groin?”

  “What the hell do you think?” She stepped toward him face-first, her breasts crushed against his chest as he used the rope to tie her to him.

  Near the door, Reilly was already harnessed up and ready to go. “Where’s Gio?” he yelled at Morgan.

  “Being a hero,” he yelled back. “He’s gonna try and land this thing.”

  He tested the rope, praying it would do the trick and keep Noelle tucked against him, and then he checked on Ash’s progress and saw that the rookie had used the same method to secure Cate to his body. Her blond head was pressed against Ash’s broad chest, and she looked so damn delicate in the younger man’s arms that it brought a lump to Morgan’s throat.

  He met Ash’s eyes and gave the kid a stern look. “Take care of her.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  Swallowing, he peered down at Noelle, floored by the sheer calm reflecting back at him. “You okay, babe?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course. What do you think I am, a pansy-ass damsel who weeps at the first sign of trouble?”

  He choked out a laugh and edged them toward the cabin door, where Reilly waited with an expectant expression, completely unfazed by what they were about to do.

  “Ready?” the Irishman said cheerfully.

  Morgan nodded.

  A second later, Reilly opened the door and they were hit with a gust of frigid wind that chilled Morgan to the bone.

  “Later, guys.” With a hearty laugh, Sean Reilly hopped out of the plane feetfirst and was instantly whisked out of sight.

  Morgan turned his head and noticed Ash whispering something to Cate. He couldn’t hear what it was, but it seemed to relax her. She gazed up at Ash with trust in her eyes, and a second later they were gone, carried away by the same wind hissing in Morgan’s ears.

  He hesitated at the door, th
en lowered his head so his lips brushed Noelle’s ear. “Can I kiss you?”

  Her petite body vibrated with laughter. “Nope.”

  Morgan sighed. “Figured it was worth a shot.”

  And then he held her tight and jumped out of the plane.

  • • •

  Nik sat in the armchair next to the stone fireplace, staring at the bookshelf in front of him without really seeing it. A full glass of bourbon rested in his hand, but he didn’t raise it to his lips. He’d already consumed too much alcohol today and he felt sick to his stomach.

  And sick in his heart.

  Cate was gone.

  Ariana was gone.

  The pain was still so visceral, leaving him cold and deadened and unable to concentrate on anything around him. He vaguely heard Walther barking orders into his phone, and every now and then the older man crossed his peripheral vision as he paced the red-and-gold Aubusson rug spanning the study’s floor.

  Normally it was Nik who stepped up to the plate and took care of whatever needed to be done, but not tonight.

  He couldn’t stop thinking about the deafening silence that had greeted him when he’d walked into Ariana’s bedroom. The nurses had shut off all the monitors around the bed, and the silence had been eerie and unexpected. It had made it impossible to deny the truth. Ariana was truly gone. He’d lost her.

  Except a part of him knew he’d lost her a long time ago. When she’d chosen James Morgan over him.

  So many years he’d spent blaming Morgan for that, but deep down he knew it wasn’t entirely the man’s fault. Ariana had made the decision all on her own. She’d been seduced but not coerced, and that was just another slap in the face.

  But Ariana hadn’t deserved to die for the choice she’d made. She hadn’t deserved to take a bullet for it.

  And the blame for that, well, it fell squarely on James Morgan’s shoulders.

  Nik’s throat squeezed with anger as he realized that Morgan had done it again. Ariana had died once, thanks to the bastard, and today, he’d killed her all over again.

  He’d killed her, and then stolen her daughter, right from under their noses.

  The tumbler in his hand began to shake, and Nik had to place it on the table before he spilled bourbon all over Dietrich’s expensive rug.

  A curse from the desk snapped him back to the present. He turned to see Dietrich’s dark eyes blazing.

  “Nobody can locate them,” the older man announced. “I’ve got everyone in Paris on the alert, but there’s no sign of them.”

  Nik stood up wearily. “It’s been hours. He could have taken her anywhere by now.”

  With a roar of fury, Dietrich swiped his arm over the desktop, sending papers and supplies flying. The keyboard clattered to the ground, and the computer mouse dangled over the edge of the mahogany desk, swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

  “He killed my daughter!” Dietrich raged. “He kidnapped my granddaughter! I want that son of a bitch! I want to slit his throat!”

  A ringing phone interrupted the man’s tirade, and it took a second for Nik to realize that it was his. When he checked the screen, he saw Gilles Girard’s number and suppressed a sigh.

  “It’s Girard,” he told Walther.

  The older man looked annoyed. “Answer it. He might have information for us.”

  Nik reluctantly took the call, immediately greeted by Girard’s tense voice.

  “It’s done.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “What are you talking about?”

  “I just received confirmation from one of the contractors I hired. James Morgan is dead.”

  Nik’s entire body went cold. “What do you mean, Morgan is dead?”

  That got Dietrich’s attention. He swiftly rounded the desk, kicked a metal container of ballpoint pens out of his path, and marched up to Nik. “Speakerphone,” he ordered.

  Nik’s fingers trembled as he fumbled with the icons on the touch screen. “Maurice is here with me,” he told the lawyer. “Tell us what happened.”

  “I just got off the phone with the contractor. He was monitoring all the private airfields outside the city, and bribed the owners to contact him if someone matching Morgan’s description chartered a flight. Earlier this morning, he got a call from one of his informants.”

  Dietrich frowned. “And?”

  “And he planted a bomb on the plane Morgan chartered. The bomb was designed to go off upon descent. He didn’t want it exploding over France, said there’d be too many questions that might lead back to him or us. Ten minutes ago he got word that the plane exploded outside of San José.”

  Nik almost dropped the phone.

  Oh dear God.

  “Anyway, he wants us to wire the money to a numbered account in—”

  “Money?” Dietrich screamed. “He wants money? My granddaughter was on that plane!”

  There was a long silence.

  “I’m sorry...I don’t understand,” Girard finally sputtered.

  “James Morgan abducted my granddaughter! She was on the plane, you stupid fool!”

  Nik felt sick to his stomach. When he pictured Cate’s beautiful face, he grew even sicker, dangerously close to vomiting.

  Ariana. Cate.

  Both of them. Dead.

  How was that possible?

  Dietrich was foaming at the mouth as he snatched the phone from Nik’s numb fingers. “You tell that son of a bitch he’s not getting a goddamn dime! In fact, tell him I’m giving him an hour’s head start before I hunt him down and skin him alive!”

  With that, Dietrich disconnected the call and whipped the phone across the room. It smashed against the bookshelf before crashing to the floor.

  Nik couldn’t breathe; the shock was too paralyzing. Catarina couldn’t be dead. Girard was wrong. There was no plane. No explosion.

  She couldn’t be dead.

  Dietrich had started panting like a rabid dog, his fair face stained crimson. “Call every contact we have in South America!”

  Nik swallowed. “What for?”

  “There could have been survivors,” Dietrich snapped. “Do you really think a man like Morgan wouldn’t have a few extra parachutes on board? She might still be alive!”

  Nik blinked in confusion.

  “Are you listening to me, Nikolaus?”

  He tried to breathe again but his lungs had seized up.

  “Goddamn it, Nikolaus! Pick up the phone! Do you understand me? Call every goddamn contact we have! She might still be alive!”

  Chapter 34

  By the time two o’clock in the morning rolled around, Cate had given up on trying to sleep. She never slept well in unfamiliar beds, and besides, she’d pretty much been comatose for eleven hours today. Not to mention the adrenaline kick that came from being forced to jump out of a plane. She was too wired to sleep, and found herself wandering the dark halls of James Morgan’s house with no idea where she was even going.

  The house was enormous, but surprisingly cozy. Pretty landscape paintings lined the cream-colored walls, and all the furniture had a rustic feel to it, reminding her of a homey ski chalet. Morgan had told her they were still getting settled there. Apparently he and his team used to live in Mexico, but they’d had to relocate after their compound had been attacked. Morgan hadn’t offered any more details, and when she’d asked Ash about it later, he’d shrugged and said he hadn’t been around for it.

  Cate tried to walk quietly as she made her way downstairs. Thanks to the tour Morgan had given her, she remembered that the kitchen opened onto a huge patio that overlooked the backyard, and she suddenly felt like getting some air. Maybe the humidity would lull her into a sleepy state.

  When she stepped outside, the night air was indeed humid. Within seconds, she was sweating in her cotton shorts and tank top. Morgan had deposited the clothes on her b
ed earlier, but she hadn’t asked whom they belonged to. Probably Noelle.

  At the thought of Noelle, Cate realized she hadn’t seen her since they’d arrived at the compound. No doubt the woman was in one of the many rooms in this big house, sound asleep after the chaotic events of the day.

  “Couldn’t sleep?”

  She jumped, startled by the deep voice that came out of nowhere. Spinning around, she found Morgan sitting at the wrought-iron table, smoking a cigarette.

  A frown reached her lips as he took a deep drag. She hadn’t known he smoked.

  Then again, there were hundreds of other things she didn’t know about him.

  “I’m too wound up,” she admitted. “I think the adrenaline is still running through my veins.”

  He gestured to the seat across from him. “C’mon, sit down.”

  She joined him at the table, toying with the end of her braid as she watched him take another pull of his cigarette.

  “So how did you enjoy your first foray into skydiving?” He looked like he was fighting a smile.

  “It was terrifying. And thrilling.”

  In fact, she was still having trouble adjusting to the feel of the ground beneath her feet after experiencing that incredible free fall. She knew she’d never forget it—being thousands of feet up in the air, her heart in her throat, clinging to Ash as if her life depended on it. They’d plummeted so fast she’d been certain they would crash into the ground and die on impact. But then Ash had pulled the rip cord and suddenly they’d been floating, and a strange sense of peace had washed over her. She’d wrenched her head off Ash’s chest and peered around his shoulder, finally working up the nerve to look down.

  She remembered seeing a sea of blue, a carpet of green—the ocean and jungle, so vast and beautiful beneath them. Once they got lower, she’d glimpsed the tops of houses, cars that looked like tiny ants, little roads winding through the landscape.

  They’d landed on a deserted beach, like a scene right out of a movie, and then they’d hiked for two hours before they’d reached civilization, where they waited for a “pickup,” as Morgan had referred to it.

  A man with sandy hair and light green eyes had come to get them in a beat-up black Jeep. Kane something or other—she still couldn’t match all the names to their corresponding faces. She’d met so many people today, more people than she’d ever interacted with in her entire life.