Page 108 of Mile High Heist

My mouth dropped open. I shut it with an audible click.

Ryle reached for my uniform and removed my nametag. It wouldn’t be enough. Even without it, I’d made an impression on too many people.

“What are we going to do?” I asked, my voice pitchy with panic.

Ryle glanced around. He tried moving some of the furniture to form a makeshift barricade in front of the door, but everything was bolted down.

“Shit,” he cursed, scrubbing his hand over his head.

Nate whistled. We both turned to him. He tossed a metal fork at Ryle, who caught it with a confused expression.

Then he understood. “Right. Duh.” He marched to the door and jammed the fork into the lock, twisting it until it was thoroughly wedged in.

The floor vibrated beneath our feet. I told myself it was just the engines. Just the normal hum of the plane…

It definitely wasn’t the sound of a hundred pounding footsteps racing toward us.

Something smashed, then fizzled beside me. I jumped again, my nails biting into my cheeks. It was Nate, breaking the champagne bottle over the bolted-down side table. He held the sharpened neck of the bottle like a weapon.

Both men stood on either side of me, armed with whatever they could. I really wished I’d held onto that taser. Anything would be better than the piddly utensil Ryle forced into my uncooperative hand.

“That door isn’t going to hold for long,” Ryle warned.

The vibrations got stronger. I gasped when I heard the unmistakable rise of voices in the first-class cabin.

“They’re going to rush us,” Nate predicted. He reeked of champagne, his whole body twitching. “Stab hard and quick. Jugular, stomach, eyes. All the soft bits.”

I nodded dumbly. The fork was damn near slipping out of my sweaty fingers.

Someone knocked on the door.

It was almost polite, asking for permission to enter. Ryle held a finger to his lips. Quiet.

I stopped breathing, even though I was certain my heart was beating loud enough to expose us.

Calm down, calm down, calm down…

The door shuddered as someone tried to force the handle. “It’s locked,” a deep voice said. “She’s in there for sure. Careful lads.”

Outside, I imagined a pack of bloodthirsty wolves, ready to tear me limb from limb. Then someone banged on the door again, hard enough to make the walls shudder.

“Come out, Emily!” a voice shouted.

We didn’t move.

Another bang, harder, like they were ramming something into the door. Next to me, Nate groaned. “I fucking jinxed us. They’re using a trolley.”

On my other side, Ryle scoffed. “Jinxes aren’t real, dumbass.”

Nate balked at him, waving his shattered bottle in outrage. “Are you cooked in the head? Why would you say that right now?”

“What difference would it make?”

“You don’t fuck with jinxes, numb nuts!”

Another bang, and the door shifted, a crack appearing right down the middle. It was made of carbon fiber, so it was hardly a deterrent to a horde of desperate lawyers.

The idiots on either side of me stopped bickering and prepared to face the intruders.