Read Online Behind the Mask (Undercover Associates Book 4) by Carolyn Crane - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carolyn Crane
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the hope rise inside her body, followed by the guilt. It was how it always happened, the good feeling trumped by the sickening guilt of the Friar Hovde incident. Liza had made so much of Zelda’s passion for justice, but deep down, Zelda knew if there was real justice, she’d be dead and Agent Randall would still be alive, drinking his shots of Jägermeister and customizing his scopes.
The plane droned on. It was louder now, but the patch looked like it would hold. She pulled the cardboard out of her ears when they weren’t watching. Later she peed in a bucket off to the side.
She was tracking time, but even if she hadn’t been, she’d know they were near just from the restlessness of her captives.
She directed all five of them to lie on the floor on the far right side, including the leader. She made the bearded man put bags and T-shirts over their heads, a task he completed with an ugly look that she felt almost physically, like bacteria in her chest. She tightened the ties, then she got the copilot out, and he got the same treatment.
She yanked the ties tight. They would suspect that she was something more than la puta de Mikos at this point. It couldn’t be helped.
She hustled Guz up to the front. She took the copilot’s seat, forcing the leader to crouch at her side.
The pilot eyed her nervously, but he worked the controls smoothly and surely. They were in descent. She could see the runway in the growing light. It looked like so many other airstrips around, lush green surrounded by foliage. A few figures in camo. Her welcoming party. A hangar and a row of Quonset huts opposite, a boulder at the corner.
“ Súbelo otra vez ,” she said.
The pilot looked at her wildly.
“ Súbelo otra vez ,” she hissed, gesturing upward with the gun. “Up in the air. Ahora !”
He pointed at the fuel gauge. “ Gasolina !”
“ No me importa .” She demanded to know where a different landing strip might be.
He looked down at the leader between them.
She told him to land it elsewhere, or she’d kill them all.
Guz told him to do it and the plane nosed back up. And up.
She’d use the boulder to recognize it if he tried to trick her and fly back there.
She was really doing it. She scanned the dark horizon. She was pulling it off.
A fugitive feeling of triumph appeared in her heart, fragile tendrils of hope. For a second she felt good, but then there it was: the tide of guilt: washing the hope away. Randall’s body on the linoleum floor, dead eyes that would never see his children again, see life again. She could get free of these men, but she could never be free of those five seconds of cowardice that trumped everything she was, everything she ever could be.
Totally and completely unforgivable.
Motion at her right. Shit! Guz was getting the bag off his head. She lunged. The pilot banked the plane, throwing her off balance.
Before she could even get in a shot, Guz was twisting the gun from her fingers. She fought him, but he had the arm strength and the hand strength. Strength enough to take it.
Pain exploded in her skull as he smashed her head onto his knee. The plane circled and righted as he held her head to his shin, grip like iron.
“You’ll be begging for death by the time I’m done with you,” he hissed, roughly ridding her of the rest of her weapons and binding her wrists viciously tight.
He dragged her back to where the guys were and cut one free. They began to free each other. She lay facedown on the metal strip with three boots on her back and her hands tied. Probably six guns on her head.
Guz spoke in Spanish. “I’ll deal with her on the ground.”
She swallowed as they descended, heart racing. She believed Guz, of course. She’d be begging for death. She’d embarrassed him, and there would be no end to his retaliation.
She whimpered, and somebody gagged her.
Her eyes clouded with tears. She lay there trying to enjoy the way it felt to breathe and have a body that wasn’t in too
The plane droned on. It was louder now, but the patch looked like it would hold. She pulled the cardboard out of her ears when they weren’t watching. Later she peed in a bucket off to the side.
She was tracking time, but even if she hadn’t been, she’d know they were near just from the restlessness of her captives.
She directed all five of them to lie on the floor on the far right side, including the leader. She made the bearded man put bags and T-shirts over their heads, a task he completed with an ugly look that she felt almost physically, like bacteria in her chest. She tightened the ties, then she got the copilot out, and he got the same treatment.
She yanked the ties tight. They would suspect that she was something more than la puta de Mikos at this point. It couldn’t be helped.
She hustled Guz up to the front. She took the copilot’s seat, forcing the leader to crouch at her side.
The pilot eyed her nervously, but he worked the controls smoothly and surely. They were in descent. She could see the runway in the growing light. It looked like so many other airstrips around, lush green surrounded by foliage. A few figures in camo. Her welcoming party. A hangar and a row of Quonset huts opposite, a boulder at the corner.
“ Súbelo otra vez ,” she said.
The pilot looked at her wildly.
“ Súbelo otra vez ,” she hissed, gesturing upward with the gun. “Up in the air. Ahora !”
He pointed at the fuel gauge. “ Gasolina !”
“ No me importa .” She demanded to know where a different landing strip might be.
He looked down at the leader between them.
She told him to land it elsewhere, or she’d kill them all.
Guz told him to do it and the plane nosed back up. And up.
She’d use the boulder to recognize it if he tried to trick her and fly back there.
She was really doing it. She scanned the dark horizon. She was pulling it off.
A fugitive feeling of triumph appeared in her heart, fragile tendrils of hope. For a second she felt good, but then there it was: the tide of guilt: washing the hope away. Randall’s body on the linoleum floor, dead eyes that would never see his children again, see life again. She could get free of these men, but she could never be free of those five seconds of cowardice that trumped everything she was, everything she ever could be.
Totally and completely unforgivable.
Motion at her right. Shit! Guz was getting the bag off his head. She lunged. The pilot banked the plane, throwing her off balance.
Before she could even get in a shot, Guz was twisting the gun from her fingers. She fought him, but he had the arm strength and the hand strength. Strength enough to take it.
Pain exploded in her skull as he smashed her head onto his knee. The plane circled and righted as he held her head to his shin, grip like iron.
“You’ll be begging for death by the time I’m done with you,” he hissed, roughly ridding her of the rest of her weapons and binding her wrists viciously tight.
He dragged her back to where the guys were and cut one free. They began to free each other. She lay facedown on the metal strip with three boots on her back and her hands tied. Probably six guns on her head.
Guz spoke in Spanish. “I’ll deal with her on the ground.”
She swallowed as they descended, heart racing. She believed Guz, of course. She’d be begging for death. She’d embarrassed him, and there would be no end to his retaliation.
She whimpered, and somebody gagged her.
Her eyes clouded with tears. She lay there trying to enjoy the way it felt to breathe and have a body that wasn’t in too
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