“Like hell you’re doing this by yourself.” He groaned until he was upright. I could tell he favored his right side.
“You don’t have to be so stubborn all the time,” I suggested.
“But I do have to keep you safe. I swore I would.” He held my gaze with incredible fire. “And I’m never letting something like this happen to you again. Do you understand?”
“I do,” I whispered.
“Let’s do this.” He growled with pain as he forced himself to stand. He surveyed the remaining bags. “Why don’t you start with the crew’s baggage? It’s marked in black and tagged with the airline logo. I’ll work on the crates.”
I felt ridiculous, trying to stand. I fell a few times, before I was finally on my feet.
“You ok?” AJ checked with me.
“Yes. We have to hurry.” A tear slipped down my cheek when the zip tie sliced into my ankle. I didn’t know if I had much of an ankle left. It felt mangled and raw, as if the tie was against the bone.
I bit my lip, trying to hide the pain from AJ.
I fell into the pile of suitcases. “Fuck,” I muttered.
“Syd, stop. You’re going to do permanent damage to your leg.”
I managed to rise up on my knees, far enough that I could bring my fingers on top of one of the zippers. “I’m fine. Look for the scrambler,” I pleaded.
It was awkward to rifle through the luggage with my hands bound together, but I focused on finding the device instead of the intense agony shooting through my limbs. I could only imagine what AJ was dealing with. Zip ties, a bloody cheek, busted brow, and broken ribs.
I turned as he grunted behind. “What the hell?”
It was a packing crate, but it was empty. “Why is there nothing inside there?” I asked.
He ducked his head inside. “No box in here.”
“But it’s empty. What was in there?”
“Keep looking.” He tore into another crate and I fixated on the crew’s luggage. I had gone through four bags before I finally hit something hard and square.
“AJ!”
He turned and hobbled toward me. He peered at my hands. “That’s it.”
I struggled to hold it toward him. He reached out, flicking a button on the side. He exhaled. “That’s it.” He hopped around in a circle. “The signal should be broadcasting again. God, it better be. My phone is in my back pocket. Pull it out Syd, so we can send comm to the ground unit.”
I was a nervous wreck, fumbling the phone out of his pocket. I handed it to him, aware that I had dripped blood on the screen.
AJ powered it on and started typing just as the door to the cargo hold burst open. My eyes flew upward as I hopped in front of him to shield the phone from their view. We needed more time.
“Time to get you in your crate, kitten.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered. The empty crate was for me. Had they been planning on stuffing me in there from the time we’d left Atlanta?
Both men landed with a thud on the floor. They snarled when they saw the mess we had made with the baggage.
“You two were looking for something?” Hancock was livid.
I swallowed. “I just want the bleeding to stop. I was looking for something I could use as a bandage. Can you blame me? Can you please get me out of these? My wrists are going to be broken. I’ll be useless to anyone who needs me on a computer.”
“I don’t think so. We need to get you prepped. The captain says it’s time to land.” Hancock turned to his accomplice. “You get her feet.”
“No,” AJ barked.