Page 94 of Mile High Heist

These dire thoughts threatened to overwhelm me, so I was almost grateful when Lucille came to collect me for breakfast service.

With a silent groan, I dragged my aching feet after her. Thankfully, she delegated the trolley service to Marcus and two other harried flight attendants. We were on pilot duty.

I dreaded walking into the cockpit. Knowing what I did about Julie, and everything that had happened with Madoc, I couldn’t stop the nervous sweat that overcame me. Judging from Lucille’s frequent glances, I was doing a poor job at hiding it.

“We will go over the rules again,” Lucille said, ignoring my not-so-subtle eye roll as we prepared the breakfast trays. “You will be polite. You will address them as ‘sir’ or ‘captain’. You will not distract them with your doe-eyed kitten routine.”

I choked. “My what?”

Lucille raised her brows like I was being deliberately obtuse. “I have a daughter your age,” she said, a smile twitching at her lips. “I’ll tell you what I always tell her. Nothing is more fragile than confidence built on a man’s opinion.”

Heat rushed to my face.

I wasn’t surprised that she had that opinion of me. After all, I had spent a large portion of the flight seemingly fawning over men and their watches to identify the SKS.

Still. Not a great lasting impression.

Breakfast assembled, we headed toward the cockpit. I summoned the will to smile. We were in the final leg of it, I reminded myself. Just a few more hours.

Lucille scanned her ID across the wall panel. The light blinked green. She pushed the door open, then held it so I could walk in holding the serving trays.

The smell hit me instantly.

Sour male sweat, bitter metal, and warm leather, a combination that reminded me of my father’s office during his long working hours. Both men were seated and locked into their radios. Outside, the sky was streaked crimson and gold. Inside, the darkness lingered, so the men appeared ghostly beneath the neon cosmos of flashing buttons and levers.

“About time,” the bigger man said without turning. “Keep a man hungry, and he’ll do unthinkable things.”

Lucille rolled her eyes as she waved me in.

“How’s it looking out there?” he asked gruffly, pressing something on the instrument panel.

“Well, Captain Miller, they’re not thrilled about the lockdown…”

“They’ll be less thrilled if another one of them croaks.”

Lucille nodded, but she looked exasperated by the man.

“We’ve been cleared to land,” Captain Miller went on. “Emergency crews will be standing by.” His stomach made a sound that could be heard over the engines.

At Lucille’s pointed look, I hurried over. The captain turned as I approached, his face lined with exhaustion. He was older, in his late fifties, with a neat buzzcut and a very unfortunate nose.

He accepted the food with a grunt and immediately ripped open the packaged ham-and-cheese sandwich. As I popped his soda into the cup holder, a hand flashed in my periphery.

I turned with a smile, ready to greet the co-pilot, then stopped dead.

The co-pilot was already staring at me.

No, not staring.

Gawking.

Like I was the last person he expected to see walking into the cockpit. He was younger than the captain, only a handful of years older than me. But there was a harshness to his features, tiny scars across his jaw and nose that went unnoticed unless you were close enough.

And I was definitely close enough.

I was so close that I saw the moment his eyes flashed in recognition, then anger. I saw the hint of ink on his wrist, just beneath his pristine white cuff. A tattoo that almost looked like a…

A cold stab of panic shot down my spine.