“Richard Jones,” I say, shaking my head. I flip through what’s in his wallet. It’s fucking standard as hell. A bunch of cards and cash, his license. Nothing that tells me who he is or what makes him tick. But as I fold it back up, something flutters to the floor. I pick it up. It’s a note, written in a woman’s curvy script. I unfold it and read it.
“Give me that,” he seethes, but I dodge him.
Come home, my love. I know with my illness, our distance seems unbearable, when every passing day could be our last. Come home to me, Richard. I love you. Ellen
“Ellen, is it?” I ask him. The paper’s faded, as if it were written a long time ago. “Is she gone, then?”
“Yes,” he says through clenched teeth.
“You a single dad?” I ask him.
He tightens. Again, answer enough. Christ.
I can’t kill the man. And leave children potentially orphaned? Fuck no.
“You did this for the money, then, didn’t you?” Pricks will do fucking anything for the money. I shake my head. “Always for the money,” I say, softer as if speaking to myself.
“Of course I fucking did it for the money,” he says. “And if I don’t bring you back intact, I get nothing.”
I shake him by the collar again. “There are many fucking ways to earn money,” I remind him. “Ways that don’t destroy another human being.” I push the gun into his temple, and he breathes in with a sharp intake of breath.
“Land this helicopter,” I tell him. “But you’re not landing it where people are waiting. You understand me?”
He glares at me but doesn’t respond.
“You do what I say,” I tell him. “And if you don’t, I’ll find them. I’ll find you. And I’ll take everything that matters to you away from you. Just like Morose did to me.”
He takes in a breath, then lets it out again in a huff, angry and a little afraid.
“Fine,” he says, likely trying to figure out how he can do what I say and still get his money. But that ain’t happening. He’s going to land this helicopter, and I’m taking his gun. I’m getting the fuck out of here. And literally fucking no one is going to take me prisoner again.
“Land it,” I tell him. “Not where you were supposed to. Call in an emergency landing.”
He stiffens and doesn’t move.
I cock the gun.
“Land. The. Fucking. Helicopter.”
He curses under his breath but starts flipping switches. We swoop downward. Still holding the gun pointed at him, I buckle myself in right next to him.
“Co-pilot.”
“Fuck you,” he responds.
I shake my head. “Do you seriously think what you did was okay?” I ask him. Hell, maybe I will kill the motherfucker.
He doesn’t respond. I know he’s under pressure. I know he doesn’t want to do this. I also know he wants that fucking money.
But I’ve got a woman I’m going to find. I’ve got justice to enact.
Calls come in on the intercom, a concerned voice checking in about our sudden descent. I see a large strip of what looks like vacant land in front of us. With a growl, he flicks the switch off the speaker so we’re flying in silence. Good. That assures me that he’s at least not blowing smoke up my ass. They don’t expect us to land here.
“This is gonna be a rocky landing,” he swears, and I wonder if he’s going in for a rocky landing on purpose because he’s so angry. It doesn’t really matter to me why he does it, though. The point is to get me on the ground and out of custody, or whoever the fuck.
“Prepare,” he grits out, as the helicopter swerves up and down, apparently taken in a gust of wind.
“I’m ready,” I tell him without blinking. I’m so ready.
I watch him land, prepared to ambush him the second we’ve touched ground, and my predictions are right. He lands us on a smooth landing strip far away from any buildings and people. We’re completely isolated, though I can see a building that looms up ahead. We’re near the base where we were supposed to land, but we’re alone, just the two of us. Perfect.
As soon as we’re safely on land, I go into action. He spins to try to overtake me, but I anticipated just this, and I don’t hesitate. When he lunges for me, I knee him, take him to the ground, and like I did with Joey, use a choke hold to knock him out. He slumps over, and I quickly restrain him with a length of rope I find near the security vests. I’m not gentle as I drag him next to Joey. I let him bang and bounce on the ground and toss him bodily next to Joey. Joey stirs but doesn’t wake.
Frowning, I take Richard’s wallet and shove it in my back pocket. I don’t need the money so much as the I.D., but there could come a point when I wish I had it. I frown, looking down at Joey, and at the last second, I turn him over and reach for his wallet as well. I have no idea which of these, if any, will prove useful, but I have to be prepared. I frown down at my lack of clothing. I stand out like this, and I can’t even take clothes from either of them. They won’t fit. They’re smaller than I am.