Refusing to budge from the ladder, he stilled, waiting to see what would happen next.
The man gestured to someone inside the plane and before Trigger knew what was happening, a man in his mid-thirties was standing at the opening of the plane, looking down at him.
“Be careful,” Gillian was saying. “Don’t fall as you go down the ladder.”
With no choice, Trigger had to back down the ladder as the first hostage made his way off the plane.
As each person arrived at the bottom of the ladder, Lefty and Grover pointed them back toward the terminal. Each one took off as if the hounds of hell were at their feet, and Trigger couldn’t blame them. It was obvious they were relieved to be away from the plane and from the hijackers.
But something was bothering him about the civilians who’d been chosen to be set free. Typically in hijackings, the freed were often women, children, or the infirm. Only two of the hostages set free were women, the others all men. Healthy, relatively young men.
People who might be able to put up a struggle and possibly overcome the hijackers.
Trigger understood the thought process behind letting the young, healthy, and strong free, and it pissed him off. Looking up at the hatch, he saw Gillian once again come to the edge. For a second, he wanted to encourage her to scramble down the ladder. To get the hell out of there. But somehow he knew, even if it was the right thing to do—which it wasn’t—she wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t bail and leave the others behind.
For just a moment, their eyes met. Her brows came down, she licked her lips, and he saw her mouth his name in question.
He nodded once—then a black-clad arm reached around Gillian’s chest and almost took her off her feet as she was wrenched backward. She let out a small sound of surprise as she was hauled away.
The hatch slammed shut, and Trigger heard the lock engage as it was secured.
“Fuck,” Grover swore as he and Lefty grabbed the ladder and secured it back to the utility cart they’d driven out to the plane.
“You couldn’t see much, could you?” Lefty asked.
Trigger shook his head. “No. They played it smart. Using the forward door meant the galley blocked the view of the rest of the plane.”
“I’m assuming that was Gillian?” Grover asked.
“Yeah,” Trigger confirmed.
“I heard some of what she was saying,” Lefty said. “She was trying to give us as much information as possible as to who was still alive onboard, wasn’t she?”
Trigger nodded. “I think so.”
“We’ve got the passenger manifest,” Grover reminded the men. “We’ve already got the names of everyone onboard.”
“Right, but not who was shot and who wasn’t,” Trigger told his friend. He’d found that people reacted in very different ways to danger. Some froze in terror. Others freaked out. And the very rare few seemed to remain calm and process the situation carefully…like Gillian. She was obviously frightened, but had pushed her feelings to the side to try to help others.
“It was pretty ripe in there,” Lefty muttered. “I could smell it even from where I was on that ladder.”
For some reason, his friend’s words irritated Trigger. “It’s not like they can help it,” he bit out. “It’s fucking hot during the day and they’re not running the engine for power. And let’s not forget the toilets weren’t meant for the number of people using them for days on end.”
“Whoa!” Lefty said, holding up his hands. “I wasn’t criticizing. Just making an observation.”
Trigger took a deep breath and held on as Grover drove them back to the terminal. “I know, sorry.”
“Hugo should be freed sometime tonight. We’ll stall them by saying the paperwork is still being done or something, but we should be ready to make our move early in the morning,” Grover said.
Trigger nodded. That was the timetable he was working toward as well.
The knowledge that by this time tomorrow, the standoff would be over, should’ve made him feel better. But instead, the unease deep within him continued to grow. For the first time in a very long time, he felt as if the enemy was three steps ahead of them. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling…
Especially considering his thoughts about Gillian Romano.
It was crazy. He didn’t even know her. Not really. But then again, he knew the important things. That she was smart and considerate. She worried more about her fellow prisoners than she did herself. She was brave…and all he wanted to do was hug her and tell her everything would be all right.
It wasn’t like him, but Trigger couldn’t get the woman out of his mind. She impressed the hell out of him, and that didn’t happen very often. He wanted to get to know her better. Wanted to know every little thing.
But…he was a Delta. Ghost and his team might’ve found women to spend the rest of their lives with, but they’d been damn lucky. Finding someone who could put up with his job and the danger it brought, and who would be all right with never knowing where he was or what he was doing, was damn near impossible.
No, it wouldn’t be fair to Gillian to even ask her to do that.
But damn, did he want to.
Taking a deep breath, Trigger turned his mind back to the task at hand. He was getting way ahead of himself. There was no guarantee he or Gillian would get out of this situation alive. And she probably wouldn’t want anything to do with anyone who was even close to this clusterfuck, not that he could blame her. She’d probably want to put it firmly behind her and get on with her life.
Trigger mentally recited the names that Gillian had used so he wouldn’t forget them. He needed to talk to Brain and see if he’d been able to isolate any background conversations from his earlier phone call with Gillian. And he and his team had to plan the best way to raid that plane so the least number of innocent civilians were killed in the process.
His head throbbed, but Trigger ignored it and pressed his lips together. He’d get Gillian out of that plane one way or another.
Gillian wanted to cry when the hatch of the plane was secured. The air had been so damn refreshing, she hadn’t even minded being forced to haul in all the heavy boxes.
But it had been the man at the top of the ladder that had given her the biggest boost. At first she hadn’t paid much attention to him, concentrating more on the slight breeze and fresh air. But when she finally noticed that he was paying very close attention to her, she took a second glance.
He had dark hair and his biceps strained the fabric of the one-piece jumper he’d had on. His gray eyes were piercing in their intensity, and she swore he was exuding confidence and positivity as if they were pheromones. But the thing that made her truly believe he was the man she’d been talking to on the phone was his lack of fear. The men who’d delivered the last batch of food and water had been falling all over themselves to unload the boxes and get the hell away from the plane.
This man, and his buddies, had given off the opposite vibe. Gillian had a feeling if Luis had made any threatening moves behind her, the man at the top of the ladder would’ve leaped into the plane and taken him out.
Feeling buoyed by the man’s confidence, she’d started using as many names of her fellow hostages as possible. If this was her Walker, she wanted him to know exactly who was onboard.