Siren in the Wind Book One of the MIT Series

Chapter Forty

Fifteen minutes after takeoff, Abby had to delay Khalid and his four guerrillas. There were too many of them to take on herself, especially with a limited knowledge of self-defense. If she guessed correctly, the flight was only eighty to a hundred minutes of flying time. You can do this, girl. Take what you know about aircrafts and formulate a plan. A history of extensive flight safety training might just give her an edge.

Two of the four guards were buckled in their seats. One man in the lavatory while Roman stood near the cockpit. Khalid tapped away on his laptop, seated towards the front of the aircraft on the plush seats facing the cabin. The cold bastard behaved like an ordinary businessman on a work trip. The guard seated opposite Khalid was buckled in. Abby was positioned in the back row, on the left side of the aisle.

Viktor sat across the aisle from her. The gargantuan Russian was the one who'd broken Meg's arm that fateful night. Ignoring his shoulder-holstered gun, Abby spotted an ankle strapped piece, exposed as Viktor's cargo pants rode up his leg.

If she could get to that weapon she could shoot Khalid, a rooted fantasy that would be suicide. She was outgunned. The old pre-Max Hansen Abby from a month ago would have jumped at the chance to sacrifice herself for the greater good. The new post-Max Hansen Abby wanted to live, even if he never forgave her.

Abby refused to think about those last angry words fired in her direction. Did he really think that badly of her? She'd been trying to save him and all he saw was a self-serving bitch. No. That was just ugly desperation pulling them apart. Abby was determined to stand with her fierce warrior, and the time was now.

She glanced at the window to the left. They were on a Gulfstream G150. She was trained on Airbuses and Learjets—they were her old friends—but she'd flown once before on a Gulfstream. This was a roomier aircraft than most private planes with six plush leather seats taking up most of the space. Four facing forward and the two front seats facing the cabin. The windows were small and round.

Her plan formed. The estimated altitude was twenty-five thousand feet. Shooting out a window would cause an immediate decompression. With luck, the unbuckled men would receive injuries as they were thrown around the cabin on an emergency descent. The pilot would drop rapidly to a safer altitude to avoid oxygen deficiency, and then divert to the closest airport for an emergency landing.

Khalid would find a way to get to Cape Town but delaying them as much as possible bought Max and his team precious time. Abby had solid faith that Max had used his Jason Bourne skill set to escape, and it was time for them to catch up on Khalid's head start.

Viktor was not an attractive giant, with his crooked nose nestled between beady eyes. Abby ran eyes down his steroid-soaked body, noting his position as he dozed with legs stretched out. No one paid her much heed, thinking she wasn't going anywhere. Wrong. She was about to go somewhere called ape-shit. Hurricane style.

Unbuckling the seatbelt without drawing unwanted attention was the next step. Abby slipped as many fingers between the metal bits as she could and pulled the clip handle slowly. A dull click barely registered. She subtly repositioned herself. Moving fast was essential and her aim had to be accurate. This was going to hurt; Khalid's retribution would be a bitch.

Abby dove for Viktor's feet, grabbing the ankle-strapped gun. Mercifully it slid out on contact, and it helped that the safety clip was located on the trigger. Swiveling, Abby aimed at the window as Viktor lunged forward, pulling his primary weapon. He moved incredibly fast, shifting the gun towards her head. His seatbelt restricted his movement as he tried to twist in the chair.

One of them had to die and it wouldn't be her. Abby swung the gun around and pulled the trigger. The bullet traveled upwards through the bottom of his jaw, exploding out the back of his head. Viktor's brains splattered across the ceiling, a horror she'd never erase. Abby re-shifted her aim to the window. One shot, two shots and her aim was true.

The cabin erupted into chaos as men fumbled with seat belts, tripping over themselves. Roman rushed up the passage, with a teammate following close behind. Abby threw the gun away and raised her hands. Roman ripped her upwards into the aisle. Her head bounced off the back of the seat in front. Pain ripped through her neck, but all Abby focused on was one glorious sound—the cracked window sucking out whistling air.

Roman threw her face forward into the aisle, and she scrambled to her knees and reached over the seat, grabbing a seat belt and wrapping it around her wrist. A knee slammed into her ribs. Abby nearly vomited but held on, knowing what was coming. Sure enough, a huge bang echoed as the window blew out. Roman's startled eyes met hers as Abby pulled in a deep, yet painful breath. She had approximately twenty seconds to get to an oxygen mask before hypoxia set in.

Time slowed as men dove for safety, grabbing for anything as air tried to suck their bodies out. Roman was nearest the blown-out window and held onto an armrest. Carts broke free in the galley. A coffee cup flew past only to be pulled out into the atmosphere. Oxygen masks finally dropped down, bobbing frantically in the wind-torn cabin.

As the aircraft descended into a nose dive, screaming men flew backwards, their bodies battering the rear bulkhead like tenpins scattering. Gravity pulled Abby up the aisle, her legs floating as she clung to the seat belt. Securing herself and grabbing the oxygen mask flapping about was her primary objective. Desperation tore at her lungs but there wasn't any oxygen to be had. Agonizing pain ripped through her body, indicating damaged ribs. Eyes tearing, Abby clawed her way into the seat. Once latched in, she pulled on a mask and took her first breath, keeping the dizziness at bay.

Moans rolled through the cabin. Abby smiled at Khalid, who sat buckled in with a mask settled over his smoothly handsome face. There would be retribution if the look on his face was anything to go by. His white knuckles clutched at armrests and his eyes spat with fury. It was foolish, but she couldn't resist goading him. She'd waited too long for this moment and would rather die than let this monster touch her son.

Abby pulled the mask up and mouthed the word, "Oops" before settling back and donning a cloak of control.

Once the plane landed, Khalid stood up and sorted out the bedlam. One dead. One broken wrist. Roman fared well with just a gash marring his manly forehead. Abby wished he'd been cabin-whipped into oblivion, but he still looked as smooth as hell.

Stomach churning, Abby watched them drag the Hulk's almost headless body up the aisle, tossing it in the rear galley. She'd done that, blown the back of a man's head off. Blood spray still dried on her forehead and she trembled in morbid shock. Max had warned her about taking a life. She'd gone and done it and couldn't look away. The metallic smell of blood coated her lungs.

Abby glanced up vacantly. Roman grabbed her hair, the seatbelt strained in protest and her poor ribs were cracking in two.

"You killed my comrade, now you will fucking die." Roman slammed the butt of his gun into her cheek. Pain exploded. He reared back again.

"Enough!" Khalid's voice cut through dizziness, Roman didn't pause, instead grinding the muzzle against her forehead. Warm blood trickled down her face.

With a flat look, Roman adjusted his stance. "Close your pretty eyes, it's time to clock out."

Abby had taken it too far and now she would die. She closed her eyes, not because the douchebag asked. She needed to see what mattered most. Max was holding Gabe. He'd go to the ends of the earth to rescue her son. They could have been an actual family; her little family who would never be together in this life. How badly she wanted that. Growing up in constant loneliness had isolated her soul in cynicism. With Gabe, she'd thought her family was complete. Max shattered that image, replacing it with something so much better. That dream would be snuffed out, along with her fragile life.

"I said enough!" Khalid stepped closer. "If you kill her, I'll be very disappointed. I need her alive to find my son."

"You know where your son is!" Roman shouted.

"And what if Muller's wrong?" Khalid swore in Arabic. "You take orders from me."

Roman's finger stroked the trigger slowly. "Khalid had his turn with you, but it's my turn next, I've been waiting a long time." As he shoved her roughly back, Abby smiled.

Her dazzling life included a sweet baby boy and a strong man by her side. Max would annihilate anyone who got in his way. Abby had just turned the tables, outfoxing Khalid, and the arrogant fool didn't even know it.