Although, it is mighty intimidating the way they’re all glaring at me like this. This was a bad idea.
“Listen, baby cakes,” Mr. Brambilla says as those heartless eyes bore into me. “We’re going to play cards. You’re going to serve us drinks. Understand? Enough of this nonsense.”
Nonsense?! My job is not nonsense!
I take a breath, about to lace into him, when his son walks out of the galley and stands beside me.
They all perk up, staring at him in shock.
“Who is that?” Mr. Brambilla asks with his big wide eyes making him look like a walrus.
“That’s your… son,” I say, my mind glitching for a second.
“I don’t have a son,” he answers in a curt tone.
Aww. The poor old man has dementia. He doesn’t even recognize his own son. That’s so sad.
I turn to look at the gorgeous man standing next to me to see if his feelings are hurt.
He’s calmly staring back at them.
Then, as casually as if he’s answering a phone, he reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a gun, and shoots Mr. Salvatore Brambilla in the forehead.
My ears are ringing as I stare in shock. Mr. Brambilla is looking at me with wide lifeless eyes. Blood spurts out of the coin-sized hole in his forehead before his body slumps forward and his big head slams into the table, making the poker chips rattle.
Someone lunges on their bag, but the man next to me shoots him in the chest three times. He drops to the ground and doesn’t get up.
More gunshots. More slumped over mobsters. More blood splattering. More cards thrown in the air. More screams. More gunshots. More ringing in my ears.
My brain is frozen as I stare at the grizzly scene in shock. What is happening? Why would a son do this to his father?!
“Are you okay?” the killer asks when all of the men are dead. I’m frozen as I stare at them with my mouth hanging open. He grabs my shoulders and shakes me out of it. “Hey! Molly. Are you okay?”
“I… um… I…”
With all this carnage happening and all the very serious things to worry about in this dangerous situation, the thing my brain chooses to focus on is wondering how he knows my name.
Oh. Nametag. Duh.
“Why did you… you killed your… father…?”
It starts to sink in that maybe that wasn’t his father after all…
He’s about to say something when the bathroom door opens and one of the mobsters charges out with a pistol in his hand.
The killer shoves my shoulder hard and I fly to the ground as the mobster starts firing. The killer shoots back.
Stray bullets tear through the fuselage, making little holes all over the airplane. The intense suction violently whips the air through the cabin, thrashing my hair around and sending the cards and money flying. It’s like we’re suddenly traveling through a hurricane with the door open.
I scream and cover my ears as more gunshots ring out. I’m in the middle of a freaking gunfight!
The killer is beside me, taking shelter behind a chair. He looks at me for a long moment and then bursts out, firing his gun at the mobster on the other end of the plane.
I hunch down, cover my ears, close my eyes, and pray that I make it off this flight alive.
The shooting stops, but the plane hits some heavy turbulence and we start bouncing around. The air is so loud as it whips through the shot-up plane. I finally open my eyes and a flying hundred dollar bill slaps me in the face.
I peek over the seat I’m hiding behind and swallow hard when I see the killer standing over the dead body of the mobster who came shooting out of the bathroom.
He turns around and looks right at me.
I let out a terrified squeak as I dart my head down, hiding behind the seat.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says as he walks over with the gun in his hand. He reaches out to help me up.
I gulp as I look at his big strong hand. The wind is whipping around him, making his hair dance and his jacket wave.
I don’t know why, but I put my hand in his and let him pull me up. We meet eyes and something passes between us in that moment.
It’s over so fast. The plane lurches down and we both stumble into the seats.
“Shit,” he hisses under his breath when he looks at the door to the cockpit.
I follow his eyes and gasp when I see the door riddled with bullet holes. No…
He rushes over as the plane jerks around like a raft racing down white water rapids. I try to keep my balance as I follow him.
He pushes the door open and curses under his breath when he sees the two dead pilots hunched over the controls. The plane banks to the left and down, making my stomach drop.