Page 39 of Mile High Heist

Marcus grimaced at her. “You should have more respect for the dead.”

“I thought you said we couldn’t declare him ‘dead’,” Julie prodded. I suspected she was trying hard to distract herself—and me—from the gruesome task we were undertaking.

“We’re not,” Marcus said, scowling. “It’s considered a medical emergency until someone qualified can call time of death.”

“So, what, he’s just napping?”

Marcus glared at her, then turned it on me when I giggled. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t even remotely funny. I was pretty sure I was in shock. Or, like, having a full mental breakdown.

All my worst fears were coming to a head.

The mark was dead.

The prototype was missing.

I’d been assaulted in the bathroom by a murderous, psychopathic profiler who saw right through my cover.

My sanity? Gone.

My confidence? Completely obliterated.

Through sheer desperation and adrenaline, we managed to strap the body down in the jump seat at the rear of the cabin. The sheet slipped, and for a second, I was caught in the bug-eyed stare of the late Peter Vincilli.

I still didn’t understand what had happened to him.

One minute, he was a strong, terrible monster threatening to kill me. The next, a convulsing, writhing mess.

And I’d been the last person alone with him.

Paranoia itched at my skin. I couldn’t help but feel like I was being watched. Like I was already on trial. Like I was guilty.

Even Julie seemed suspicious, like she wanted to ask but she didn’t. I supposed accusing someone you just met of cold-blooded murder was a real friendship killer.

“What happens now?” Julie asked Marcus.

“Lucille is talking to the captain. Most likely we’ll be rerouting to the nearest airport, which is in Greenland.”

My stomach swooped. “How far away is Greenland?”

“About an hour.”

One hour.

I had to find the prototype in one hour.

Problem was, I had no idea who stole it. The prototype was a hot item among the world’s worst criminals. Everyone wanted it. Evidently, any of them would kill for it.

Before I could plunge into a full-on spiral, Lucille swooped into the galley. She glanced at the sheeted body with a pinched look.

“We’re not stopping.”

Marcus blanched. “Why the hell not?”

Lucille scowled at him but didn’t reprimand him for his tone. “The captain is having issues contacting the control tower. The safest option is to proceed as planned.”

Marcus clearly disagreed. He crossed his arms, not perturbed by Lucille’s visible ire. “Tell that to the cabin full of lawyers who just watched a man die right in front of them. Mark my words. We’ll be slapped with a lawsuit before we ever see Zurich.”

“Well,” Lucille said coldly. “We will just have to do our best to appease them.”