Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Gillian said in return for the food and water, they might let some hostages go,” Trigger said. “Lefty, you and Grover are with me. We’ll put on those overalls the airport staff wear and we’ll be the ones to deliver the supplies. Hopefully we’ll get a glimpse of some of the hijackers and can assess the situation onboard in the process.”
The others nodded.
“Brain, keep working, let us know if you find out anything.”
“Will do,” the other man confirmed.
“The rest of you will be at the ready, covering our asses out there. I have an itchy feeling at the back of my neck that this is going to move faster than we think,” Trigger warned.
“The faster we’re out of this country, the better,” Oz said. “Ever since we landed, I’ve felt as if we’re being watched.”
“Same,” Lucky chimed in.
“The US government has arranged a flight for the surviving Americans to get out of here the second this thing is over,” Brain added.
“Right. I think it was more the Venezuelan government wanting them gone so there would be no reason for the US to have a presence here for any longer than necessary,” Doc said dryly.
Trigger tuned out his teammates. They weren’t saying anything he hadn’t already thought himself. All he could think about was the way Gillian’s voice had trembled with fear—or pain?—as she spoke with him. She was taking more than her fair share of licks from the assholes who were enjoying toying with her…and the negotiators. On the surface, their demands were reasonable and made sense, though he couldn’t help but suspect there was something else going on.
But at the moment, his only goal was to rescue the hostages. One blonde in particular.
Chapter Three
Trigger drove the small airline cart toward the silent plane sitting on the tarmac. It loomed large and foreboding. There were no other planes or vehicles around it and no lights on inside the cabin. The sun had gone down and darkness was quickly setting in. The plane was parked well away from the terminal and there was no cover for Trigger and his men as they approached with the requested food and water.
The concrete under the back hatch was stained red with the blood of the men and women they’d dumped outside. The entire first-class cabin had been assassinated, the bodies disposed of after they’d landed. And there had been at least one other passenger murdered and dumped since they’d arrived in Venezuela as well. Trigger wasn’t going to let that happen again, not if he could help it.
It was eerily quiet as they approached the airplane, but when they parked under the right side, near the entrance the catering companies used to restock the plane, the hatch slowly opened.
Looking up, Trigger saw a shadowy figure dressed all in black standing near the opening—but he couldn’t take his eyes away from the woman who also appeared.
Gillian. He’d bet his life on it.
Her long hair was hanging limp around her pale face. She had on a pair of jeans and a dark blue wispy shirt that fluttered in the slight breeze of the evening. He watched as she took a deep breath, as if enjoying the fresh air, before the man standing next to her shoved the barrel of a rifle into her side.
She flinched away from him and looked down at him, Grover, and Lefty.
The last crew who had delivered supplies had brought a ladder with them and used that to reach the hatch. It wasn’t ideal, but since it worked once, Trigger figured they might as well not cause any suspicion by asking for a different delivery method.
“Do you have the food and water?” the woman called down.
Trigger nodded.
“And the toilets?” she asked.
“After these are delivered, they’ll start draining the tanks,” Trigger said, adding a Spanish accent to his voice.
The man standing next to her said something too low for Trigger to hear, and she nodded. “Just like last time, one of you has to climb up the ladder and hand me the boxes. You can’t come onboard, and if you do anything suspicious, you’ll be shot. Then they’ll kill one of the hostages as well in retaliation.”
Her voice trembled slightly, and Trigger’s adrenaline poured through his body. He knew he could leap into the plane before the asshole standing guard could kill him, but there were still five more hijackers. They’d certainly take him out before Grover or Lefty could get inside. Not to mention, it would put all of the civilians in danger.
He had to be patient. The moment would come for the hijackers to die, but now wasn’t that time.
The woman licked her lips and got down on her knees in front of the opening. “Okay. Just move slow. Don’t give him a reason to shoot you or anyone else. Please.”
This was definitely Gillian; he recognized her voice. He nodded at her and turned to his teammates. Lefty and Grover met his gaze and they communicated easily without words. They would play this safe, but if the shit hit the fan, they were all ready to act. They had several weapons hidden on their bodies and could draw and shoot in seconds if need be.
Trigger set up the ladder and climbed a few rungs. He reached down and took the box Lefty was holding for him, then stepped up the rest of the way to the opening of the plane.
“I’m Gillian Romano, and that’s Andrea Vilmer,” the woman said as she reached for the box.
Trigger nodded. He approved of her doing what she could to share the names of the people still inside. She reached for the heavy box and the hijacker next to her backed farther into the plane, so Trigger couldn’t get a good view of his face.
Frustrated that Gillian and Andrea had to do the heavy lifting of the boxes, Trigger could only watch as they and the other women nearby struggled to move the boxes from the hatch into the bowels of the plane.
“Thank you, Janet. Maybe there’s something sweet in there for your daughter, Renee,” Gillian said as she handed another box to a woman behind her. “This one’s heavy, Alice,” she cautioned as another box was handed to another woman. “Maybe Leyton and Reed will help move the boxes to the back for the men. I know Charles will appreciate getting the water, with his cough and all.”
With each box she handed off, Gillian recited names. Maria, Camile, Rebecca, Mateo, Alejandro, Muhammad…she’d done an amazing job of remembering the names of the other hostages on the plane.
Trigger was impressed. Intentional or not, she was doing her best to not only humanize the other captives, but to let him know who was still alive inside the plane. He wished he could reassure her. Tell her that he understood what she was doing, that she was so strong and he admired her. But he couldn’t. All he could do was keep handing her the damn boxes filled with food and water.
He wasn’t ready for Lefty to hand him the last box. It hadn’t taken enough time. He hadn’t been able to see enough of the inside of the plane…and he definitely hadn’t had enough time with Gillian.
“This is the last one,” Gillian told the man in the shadows as she handed it off to someone behind her. “You said if they delivered the supplies within two hours, you’d let ten people go.”
Trigger wanted to tell her not to antagonize the hijacker, but he had to keep his mouth shut. It wouldn’t be hard for the man with the rifle to realize he wasn’t a native Spanish speaker and that something was up. He had a part to play, just as Gillian did. But that didn’t mean he liked it.