Chapter One
Gillian Romano closed her eyes and rested her head on the seat. She was exhausted…but in a good way. The event that had taken months of her life to plan had gone off without a hitch. She’d been extremely nervous as it had been in Costa Rica, but because everything had gone smoothly, she knew she’d most likely have a lot more business coming her way.
The CEO of Pillar Custom Homes out of Austin, Troy Johnson, had contacted her almost a year ago to inquire about her organizing all aspects of an appreciation trip for the company’s most prestigious clients.
She’d said yes—then immediately freaked out. As an event planner, Gillian was used to organizing weddings, birthday parties, and nonprofit galas in the Killeen and Austin areas. Mr. Johnson had gotten her name from the president of a local animal shelter, who’d hired her the year before to throw their annual fundraising dinner. The president had been using Pillar Custom Homes to build his house, and he’d passed her name along.
Mr. Johnson had invited a dozen of his esteemed clients and their families, as well as some of the most influential names in Austin real estate. Gillian had been responsible for all aspects of the trip. From flight and transportation arrangements, to booking the private hotel suites and selecting entertainment options for the four-day trip. It had been the most difficult thing she’d ever done—especially considering the fact she’d done most of her planning remotely—but everything had turned out beautifully, if she did say so herself.
Smiling, Gillian let out a long sigh of contentment. She’d seen the last of the guests off the day before and had spent one day in the beautiful Costa Rican resort soaking in the feeling of a job well done and getting in some well-deserved R&R.
She was now heading home and couldn’t wait to tell her best friends—Ann, Wendy, and Clarissa—all about how beautiful Costa Rica was and how well the event had gone.
Her eyes popped open when she heard an odd sound up in the first-class section of the plane. Looking over the seat in front of her, she saw that almost all of the passengers in first class were standing. She wasn’t alarmed—until she heard one of the women let out a sound that made the hair on Gillian’s arms stand up.
It was a keening mixture of disbelief and terror.
Before she could do more than furrow her brow, a man appeared at the front of the coach cabin. He was holding a rifle. He pointed it up in the air and said something in Spanish, which made people all around Gillian shout out in horror and several began to cry.
Frozen in fear, Gillian couldn’t believe what she was hearing when the man switched to English and said, “On behalf of the Cartel of the Suns, my name is Luis Vilchez, and my friends and I have taken over the plane and will be landing in our homeland of Venezuela. Stay calm and don’t do anything stupid, and you might live to see another day.”
Gillian blinked. Her plane was being hijacked? How was this happening? She never in a million years would’ve thought after 9/11, when airlines had tightened security, that this would happen.
But then again, she wasn’t in the United States. Hadn’t she been surprised when she realized that she’d forgotten to put the small pocket knife Clarissa had given her for protection into her checked luggage, and she’d made it through the Costa Rican security with the knife in her purse?
But how did he get a rifle onboard? Was he a passenger?
Looking closer, Gillian realized he was dressed like one of the flight attendants. Though, now that she thought about it, she figured he could’ve probably smuggled the weapon onto the plane any number of ways…especially if he had help from someone who worked at the airport.
He nodded at someone in front of him, and when Gillian turned to look behind her, she saw there were three other men standing in the aisles with wicked-looking rifles as well.
Shit, shit, shit.
Swallowing hard, Gillian startled when there was another scream from the first-class area, and she whipped her head back around. The man who’d addressed the plane looked behind him then turned to face the coach passengers again. He pointed his rifle at a woman sitting in the first row. “You. Collect everyone’s passports.”
The woman stood up and looked visibly shaken.
“Get your passports out now!” the hijacker said loudly. “You will give them to this woman.” When everyone remained frozen in fear, he scowled and, without further hesitation, turned to the man sitting in the aisle seat in the bulkhead row and shot him in the head.
The man fell over, and there were more screams and shouts of terror from her fellow passengers.
Gillian knew she was in shock. She couldn’t make a sound. Couldn’t do anything more than stare wide-eyed at what was happening right in front of her.
“I said, get your passports out…now!” the hijacker yelled in both Spanish and English.
The young couple next to her leaned over and immediately began to rummage through their bags, and Gillian did the same. She held out the small blue book as the woman selected to collect them walked down the aisle. Her hand shook as she passed it over, and for just a second, she caught the other woman’s gaze. She looked absolutely terrified.
In all the confusion and panic amongst the passengers, Gillian hadn’t thought much about what the hijacker had said previously—but now she did. They were going to Venezuela. She wasn’t really up on current events, but even she knew the country was in serious turmoil at the moment. And the guy had said he was with a group, “cartel” something or other.
That usually meant drugs.
Too scared to take her eyes off the hijacker, Gillian felt herself breathing fast. This was really happening. The men who’d taken over the plane had already hurt people. Killed someone.
She felt the plane take a hard right, and ridiculously, she put out her hand to brace herself. It wasn’t as if she was going to fall out the window or something.
Either the pilots were in on the plot to take over the plane, or the hijackers had gotten to them—they really were turning around and heading back toward South America.
She briefly thought about pulling out her cell phone to see if it would work, but Gillian had no idea who she could call. Nine-one-one? No, that wasn’t an option. Her friends? What would they be able to do?
“Women in the front, men in the back!” a new voice demanded from behind her.
Gillian turned to look and saw the other hijackers were separating the passengers. The woman next to her whimpered, and her husband whispered something, obviously trying to calm and reassure her.
The man’s arm was wrenched upward by one of the hijackers as he was shoved toward the back of the plane. Gillian stood immediately and let herself be pushed forward. She stumbled into the first-class cabin—and froze at the carnage around her.
Almost all of the men and women had been killed. Sometime in the general chaos, perhaps while the passports were being collected, their throats had been slit.
She saw three flight attendants lying motionless as well.
She had one second to be thankful the plane wasn’t full before her arm was grabbed in a bruising hold. Looking up in panic, Gillian stared into the stone-cold brown eyes of the hijacker who’d so calmly shot the man in the bulkhead row.
“You. You will be our spokesperson with the authorities,” he declared.