Her Walker?
Gillian shook her head in exasperation. He wasn’t hers. She had to get her shit together. He was just doing a job. Once this was over, and hopefully that would be sooner rather than later, he’d go home and forget she existed.
But a part of her didn’t want to believe that. She felt as if she’d connected with the man, but again, that was stupid. He was probably one hundred percent focused on the mission. Namely, rescuing all of the hostages on the plane. She wasn’t anyone special, and the sooner she got that through her thick skull, the better.
It was a ridiculous fantasy that he’d felt even a tenth of the emotional pull toward her that she did to him, but it was a hell of a lot better than thinking about her current situation.
She’d actually mouthed his name right before the hatch had shut, needing to know if it was really him. He’d nodded slightly…then Luis had grabbed her and manhandled her back inside the plane.
She sat on the floor with her back against the cockpit door, watching as Alberto and Jesus handed out water and food to the other women. Leyton, a Hispanic man who looked to be in his early thirties, was tasked with schlepping some boxes to the back of the plane for the men being held there.
Turning her attention back to the women, Gillian sighed. She’d hoped they would let Janet and her little girl go. Or even Alice, who hadn’t been dealing well since being separated from her husband. But instead, as promised, they’d only freed two of the women. Gillian hadn’t known them well; they were older and hadn’t said one word to anyone, as far as Gillian knew.
They’d also let eight men go. Mostly young men, who hadn’t even looked at the women they’d had to pass on their way out. It made a weird kind of sense to Gillian. The women weren’t as strong as the men, and were less likely to plan any kind of revolt.
The hijackers might see Gillian and the others as weaker than they were, but they weren’t. They just had to use different weapons than their muscles.
Gillian vowed right then and there to do whatever it took to thwart their plans, whatever they were. If they thought they were going to take off to safety, they were dead wrong. She’d have to find some way to sabotage the plane. She’d watched Luis close the hatch; maybe she could disable the door somehow. They couldn’t take off if the door wasn’t latched, could they? She didn’t know, but it was worth a shot. She’d also work harder to give Walker as much information as she could.
“I need my cock sucked,” Luis announced.
Gillian started badly. She’d been lost in her own head, thinking about Walker and how she might be able to fight back, when the hijacker’s words interrupted, loud and threatening.
She shrank back against the door and stared at him with wide eyes. He was standing in the middle of the aisle about six rows back, where the first-class cabin ended and the economy seating started.
He was looking at all the women huddled together as if he were shopping and trying to pick out the ripest fruit.
“You,” he said, pointing at Andrea, who was sitting on the floor in one of the rows.
She let out a quiet sob and shook her head.
“Get your ass up, now!” Luis ordered.
Ever so slowly, Andrea stood. Her head hung low and she stared at the floor.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Get over here!” Luis said with an evil smirk.
No one said a word. Gillian could hear Janet and the others crying, but no one stood up to the hijacker or came to Andrea’s aid.
Gillian’s mouth opened—she had no idea what she was going to say; it wasn’t as if she was going to volunteer herself—but it was too late. Luis had grabbed Andrea’s arm and was roughly towing her back down the aisle.
Luis pulled her into one of the exit rows, probably because it was wider and had more room. He shoved her to her knees in front of him. Gillian couldn’t see Andrea any longer, or what she was doing, but she could guess. All she could see was Luis from the chest up. Guilt surged that she was so grateful when the seats blocked her view.
Luis was looking down, and he still had that awful smirk on his face. As Gillian watched, Luis said something to Andrea, and she imagined him holding the other woman’s head in his hands as she undid his pants. He stood still for a minute or so—then he threw his head back, as if he was thoroughly enjoying what was happening.
Gillian could tell by his swaying movements that his hips were thrusting forward and back, faster and faster, and she could just imagine what poor Andrea was enduring. Carlos and Jesus were watching raptly from the back of the plane, and she realized Henry was stroking himself as he sat in the jump seat next to her.
Shivering and closing her eyes at last, Gillian couldn’t watch anymore.
Luis was horrible. Him and his buddies. As if this situation wasn’t bad enough, now they were forcing themselves on the hostages? Was she next? Or poor Janet? Alice? What about beautiful Camile? It was too much. Hadn’t they all endured enough?
A commotion made her eyes pop open, and she watched as Luis hauled Andrea back up the aisle. His pants were zipped but the button was still undone, and he had a satisfied look on his face. It made Gillian physically sick.
Andrea held a hand over her lips and refused to meet anyone’s eyes.
“If you all don’t behave and do exactly as you’re told, you’re next,” he said as he threw Andrea back into her spot on the floor. Then he motioned to Alberto and Isaac, and the three of them sauntered down the aisle to have a private conversation in the relative privacy of the middle of the plane, where he’d just forced himself on Andrea.
Henry said something under his breath in Spanish that made the others laugh, and Gillian was glad she couldn’t understand him. She had a feeling he’d said something derogatory about Andrea, or maybe about the women in general.
Gillian wanted to go to Andrea. Wanted to ask if she was all right. Reassure her that they’d get out of this alive, that they just had to be strong. But in her mind, the words just sounded hollow. She thought about how she’d feel if that had been her Luis had grabbed. She wouldn’t want to hear any platitudes from anyone.
Closing her eyes, Gillian tried to dredge up soothing thoughts about Walker once more, but found it was impossible. All her fears and worries were overwhelming her, and she couldn’t think about anything other than what Luis and his buddies might have in store for the rest of them.
Eventually, she did her best to get some rest, even if it was filled with nightmares.
It felt as if she’d only been asleep for seconds, but in reality, it had been hours when Gillian was painfully woken up with a kick to her side.
Crying out, she sat up immediately and flinched at the light shining in her eyes.
“Time for another call,” Luis told her brusquely. “We need to know when Hugo will be freed and when the plane will be refueled. They’re taking too long, and we’ve been sitting around waiting on them long enough. It’s currently one in the morning. They have until five a.m. to have this plane fueled and to set Hugo free.”
“What happens at five?” Gillian asked.
Luis smirked and leaned down. “People start dying,” he said succinctly. “One every fifteen minutes until we have proof that our comrade is free. Make sure they understand. We’re starting with your friends. Maybe with that little girl.”