Brain Storm by Cat Gilbert (detective books to read .TXT) 📖

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I OPENED MY eyes to find Connors watching me, munching away on a muffin. His eyes bright and sparkling again

“Good morning,” he managed between mouthfuls. “There’s coffee.”

It took me a second to realize I was looking up at him. Someone had reclined my seat, making it into a bed and covered me up with a blanket. The fact that they managed it without me waking up was too scary to even contemplate.

“Lars,” Connors volunteered quietly when I lifted the edge of the blanket in question. He looked around before continuing. “Direct orders.”

“She’s not in charge,” I mumbled, knowing he was referring to Jenny. I struggled to sit up and failed miserably. My muscles had stiffened up during the few hours I had been asleep, and I was feeling every ache and pain. I reached over to find the buttons and move the seat up into a sitting position, ignoring Connors’ sympathetic gaze.

“No, but she is usually right,” Connors whispered between bites. He might have had a point, but I was no mood to admit it.

“Bathroom?” I asked, finally managing to get to my feet. He pointed to the rear of the plane, and I staggered down the aisle. The bathroom was every bit as opulent as the one at the Agency, if not more so. I eyed the water jets in the shower, craving the feel of hot water pounding out the aches in my muscles. It took every ounce of my willpower to turn my back on it, confident that if I got in, it would take a pry-bar to get me back out. Later, I promised myself, when this is over. As long as you want. Just not now. Later.

I took care of business, avoiding looking in the mirror. I knew how much my face hurt. I didn’t need a visual to make me feel worse. Hunting around, I found a toothbrush and some toothpaste along with a travel size deodorant and made use of them. I might look like I’d crawled out of the sewer, but there was no reason I had to smell like it. I took a few minutes to stretch and try to work out some of the kinks. There was plenty of room, and at least, I had some modicum of privacy. When I came out, I felt a lot more human. I was still stiff, but moving was easier. I looked up to find Lars was waiting at my seat with a cup of hot coffee and a muffin.

“Get in your seat and buckle up. We’re about to land.”

I sat down, and he handed me the coffee, turning his hand over to reveal two tablets hidden in his palm. I left them laying there, reaching instead for the muffin.

“Fine.” He stuffed them into his pocket, clearly angry. “If you want any more muffins, you’ll have to wrestle the Doc for them. He’s a bottomless pit.”

I looked over to find Connors strapped into his seat, the half empty basket of muffins sitting in his lap and had to smile. He was looking better with each bite he took. As far as I was concerned, he could have all the muffins he wanted.

By the time we started our descent, I had finished my coffee and downed two muffins. Connors graciously had tossed me one of his stash as soon as I had polished off the first one and I was feeling far better than I had any right to expect. We came out of cloud cover to find the city stretched out beneath us, the dome of the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument easily recognizable from the air. We were landing in D.C.

“Reagan National,” I heard Connors mumble from across the aisle. “He’s down there, Taylor. I can feel it.”

I heard the landing gear lock into place, and my heart sped up in anticipation. Connors was right. He was down there and to borrow Keith’s words, he had no idea what he was dealing with. I smiled as the wheels touched down, ready to end it.

“Stay in your seat,” Keith ordered, moving quickly through the cabin as the plane came to a stop. I hadn’t seen him since I’d woken up. He’d taken the time to get cleaned up, sporting a fresh shave and clean clothes as he strode past. “I mean it, Taylor. Get out of that seat and I promise you, you’ll be sorry.”

He motioned to Lars to stay at the front of the cabin and set to work opening the door. We’d taxied past the terminal buildings and the corporate jets lined up along the edge of the field before finally pulling into a large hangar. I glanced out my window and just caught sight of a limo heading inside, trailed closely by two black Suburbans. A shiver of unease ran through me as they moved out of sight, the giant hangar doors rolling to a close behind them. Keith stood in the open doorway just inside the plane, the smile on his lips at odds with the knots in my stomach. I hesitated, my brain telling me to get a grip while my guts screamed at me to run. ‘Follow your instincts’ I heard Mac order as clearly as if he was standing beside me, and suddenly I couldn’t move fast enough.

“Something’s wrong!” I called out the warning, fumbling to release my seatbelt. “Move!”

I was out of my seat and headed toward the rear door when the first burst of gunfire erupted, catching Keith full in the chest and slamming him up against the wall. The sound of feet pounding up the metal stairs had me sprinting down the aisle in a race for the open door.

“No!” Lars shouted as I jumped over Keith’s body and rounded the turn to the door, just as the lead man cleared the top step.

I shoved out in panic, mentally hurling him backward down the stairs into the men behind him. They were back on their feet in an instant, scrambling for the opening.

“Help me!” I called out, and Lars was there beside me, struggling to close the door.

“What part of no don’t you understand?” he spat out, as he sealed the latch, locking us inside the plane. “You could have been killed.”

“They need me alive,” I answered back, even though I knew he was right. I’d gotten lucky. The second of hesitation from the man on the stairs was the only reason I wasn’t on the floor next to Keith. He’d had an easy shot, his semi-automatic centered on the door, determined to take the plane. He’d dropped the barrel when I’d stepped into view and charged the doorway. Fast, but not fast enough.

“Is he dead?” Connors asked, scrambling across the floor, moving past us to check on Keith. I let him check, but I already knew the answer. I’d seen him take the blast, saw the life fade from his eyes. He’d been dead before he’d even hit the floor. He wasn’t coming back this time.

Noise from the galley drew our attention as one of Lars’ men appeared from around the corner, moving fast and low down the aisle to meet us.

“We’ve got a visual from the hold you might want to see,” he informed Lars, glancing quickly to Keith and then Connors, before settling on me. “I’ll cover you from the rear.”

Lars stayed low, moving swiftly down the aisle. He was almost to the galley when a spray of bullets cut through the cabin. He dove to the floor and hugged it as another spray tore through the seats above his head.

“They have eyes,” the man next to me called out, pointing to the windows. He backed us up, pushing us into the doorway leading to the exit. The metallic smell of blood was heavy in the air, Keith’s body practically under our feet. I dragged deep breaths in through my mouth and kept my eyes on Lars as fear and adrenaline pounded through my veins.

With only the bathroom behind us, there was no other option but to move down the aisle. I watched as Lars inched forward only to draw back as bullets tore through the floor in front of him. They were above us, probably on scaffolds, improving their vantage point with each passing second. It was only a matter of time before they had him.

Lars’ man pushed past me, dropped onto his belly and crawled the first few feet into the cabin as scrapes and noises came from outside the door behind us. He motioned us to follow him and moved forward another few feet. The bullets danced across the seats toward him, and his body jerked as they found their mark.

I scrambled forward, grabbed his feet and pulled, dragging him back into what little protection our area offered.

“He’s alive,” Connors said, checking his pulse, “but he won’t be for long. We need to get out of here.”

I took a breath, knowing he was right, knowing the only way was down the aisle. I stood up, intent on closing the shades and giving us some protection.

“No!” shouted Lars, the same time as Connors grabbed my leg.

“It’s all right, ” I assured him, trying to shake off Connors and the electrical impulses he was shooting up my leg. I looked over at the windows, and picturing them in my mind, grabbed hold of the shades, and pulled. The noise reverberated through the plane, and I watched Lars’ eyes grow wide in wonder, as the windows slammed shut one after another.

“Okay,” he whispered quietly, nodding his head. “That works.

He was on his feet and running down the aisle, tossing me his gun.