Chapter One

 

 

"I can see the headline now. ‘Careful Cara finally attempts something daring and dies in the process.’ Human interest. My editor will eat it up."

"Shut. Up," the man named Frankie bellowed, his face an interesting shade of magenta. Cara Watson didn’t think he looked like an instructor when she signed up to learn how to skydive. She should've trusted her instincts. They rarely let her down.

"Put on the parachute."

Cara groped behind her for the pack, her eyes glued to the gun trained on her head as she slid the straps over her trembling shoulders. She almost fell backwards. The bag weighed a ton. Hopefully that meant it contained an extra chute.

"Here's a thought. How about we just head back to the hanger and I wait another month until Christmas to jump. It'll be a Christmas present to myself. I'll even talk a friend into jumping with me. Sound good? More profit for you. Everyone can use a few extra bucks around the holidays. Am I right?"

Frankie used the hand not holding the gun to grab at one side of his greasy brown hair and yank as he let out a bellow. "Woman, shut the hell up before I shut you up."

She gulped. No doubt he meant it, judging from the fierce scowl. She glanced at the other man in the plane. He was huge and muscular with dark hair and blue eyes. He'd be drop dead gorgeous if he would quit glowering. He didn’t look like an instructor either. He looked like a warrior. She’d tried chatting him up earlier but quickly learned he possessed the personality of a slab of granite. If these two were representatives of the Flying High Jumping School, she could see why they'd had an immediate opening. So far, she’d learned exactly nothing and they hadn’t even made her sign a waiver. That couldn't be good.

Her attention was drawn back to Frankie fumbling with the latch, the gun never wavering. He worked the mechanism and the door slid open to a mighty gush of air.

"Get up."

"Aren't you going to give me some instructions?" She waved a flippant hand. "You know, tell me what the heck to do?" Her voice rose with each syllable. She was seriously starting to freak out.

"Get over here." The barked command was apparently the only instruction Frankie would give.

Using the wall for support, she struggled upright. The parachute almost pulled her back down. She eased closer, feeling the weight of the pack on her back with each step.

"Okay, don’t panic, how hard could this be?" Steadying herself, she approached the opening. "Jump, pull the cord, float safely to the ground. Piece of cake. People do it all the time, right? You rarely read about someone falling to their death from an airplane." She knew she was rambling but she couldn’t stop. She always babbled when nervous, and her stomach had been one huge knot since she stepped foot on this plane. She groped the pack. Where was that cord?

"So long, sweetheart."

As if in slow motion, Frankie’s arm reached out and with a feral grin, he pushed.

Cara gasped, her eyes widening in horror. For the first time in her life, she was struck speechless. She had the sensation of being suspended in time. Everything stopped: her breath, the hum of the engine, the force of gravity. Her eyes locked on the dark-haired man. Then the bottom literally dropped out from under her. Her feet lost purchase, her arms wind-milled, desperately searching for something solid to grab.

There was nothing but air.

Too late she remembered she never did find the ripcord.

~*~

Dylan Davidson closed his eyes and groaned. The woman was a freaking menace. Her motor mouth hadn’t stopped since they boarded. "How does this work, where does this go, should the plane make that noise, what's in the bags?" he mimicked in his head. Her never-ending litany of questions would test the patience of a saint, and he was no saint.

For the hundredth time, he wondered why Frankie allowed her to tag along. Sure, they used a jumping school as cover for their lucrative drug distribution ring. And Frankie thought the double entendre of "Flying High" was just too damn funny. But no one had ever actually signed up for lessons. Hell, the plane looked like a relic from World War I. He wouldn’t be on it if not absolutely necessary. Loaded down with a hundred kilos of snow white made it imperative, especially since he didn’t trust Frankie.

But why this woman and why today?

He was pretty sure he knew the answer to why this woman. He didn’t get more than a glimpse before she donned jumping gear, but she was a knockout. Amazing body. Thick, lustrous hair. Frankie’s eyes had locked on her lush figure like a starving wolf on a fresh piece of meat.

But after—Dylan checked his watch—forty-five minutes of nonstop chatter, even her looks couldn’t save her. If there was one thing Frankie wouldn’t tolerate, it was someone questioning his every move.

Dylan studied her. Copper hair contrasted nicely with the green jumpsuit…okay, not so much a jumpsuit as the coveralls the shifty mechanic used when he worked on the plane. Frankie sniggered as he handed her the grimy garment with Harold stitched in red thread over the left breast pocket. A battered skullcap motorcycle helmet someone left in the hanger barely contained her fiery strands. Her eyes were huge green disks behind the goggles—more contraband from Harold—her gaze trained on the pistol pointed at her head.

He sighed. He really hadn’t seen this coming or he would've stopped Frankie sooner. If he tried now, either he or the woman would likely get shot and he sure didn’t feel like dying today. He wanted to kick his own ass for allowing Frankie to bring her along.

The woman’s mouth moved as her hands fumbled along the pack, probably looking for the ripcord. Frankie pushed.

In that split second between safety and certain death, her eyes met his and locked. Something inside him shifted.

Then she was gone.

He had a decision to make: see that the goods arrived safely or save the life of one annoying redhead.

Dylan didn’t hesitate. He shot to his feet, took two steps and dove headfirst out the cargo door after her. Hell, he had no choice…the woman had fifty pounds of pure cocaine strapped to her back.