Fear shot through Jasmine with a painful jolt. Trooper Stryker was too close to the truth, throwing her fragile security into complete and utter chaos.
His questions, his interference, could cost her everything if he figured out that her past was not what it said on paper.
Worse, if he saw through her, who else could?
She fought to steady her thoughts and her hands. Thankfully, the landing wasn’t off-airport, which would require a lot more focus. While the small dirt strip at Landsher was not as well maintained as the one at Nemeti, the graded runway was better than trying to land in an open field the way she’d have to at their final stop at Loifort.
They bounced to a stop, her entire body trembling so much she could hardly run through shutdown.
As soon as she killed the engine and the airstrip’s owner, Harley Bahe, chocked the wheels, Jasmine reached across Will and shoved his door open. “Get off my plane. Now.” She straightened and gripped her hands in her lap, praying he couldn’t see the tremors in her fingers or hear the shaking in her voice.
He turned toward her, barely banked fire in his eyes. “Ms. Jefferson, I don’t think—”
“Now.” She shook her head once as Harley watched through the front window, seeming to ask if she was okay. She wasn’t, but she couldn’t risk him boarding her plane at the moment. She had a text message to send as soon as she was alone. There was no way she’d get off the plane before she sent it either. “Take Scout and get out. Someone can chopper in and get you back to Fairbanks. I’m done.”
Will seemed to hold his breath, but then he reached behind him, unhooked Scout and climbed out. When he motioned for the dog to follow, Scout jumped up on the seat and into Will’s waiting arms. The pair walked away, leaving the door open.
Jasmine didn’t care what he thought of her. She wasn’t sure it was worth caring about anything anymore. Because if this thing was as bad as she feared it might be, she could end this day with nothing left to care about anyway. Jerking her personal satellite phone from her hip pocket, she fired off a quick text to a number she’d been forced to memorize two years earlier. State trooper ran my background. He’s suspicious. Asking questions. Had a partner with him but not now.
The return text from her WITSEC handler, Deputy Marshal Sam Maldonado, was nearly instantaneous. Why a background search?
False tip that I’m running drugs. Am I safe?
Probably. And anyone who knows your story knows that tip is false.
Should you clear me before this does something to wreck me?
This time, it took longer for the response. Will call the state. Want to know for certain he’s legit.
Jasmine froze. It had never crossed her mind that Trooper Stryker might be lying about his identity. What if he’d been sent to kill her and she’d trusted a badge and uniform he’d ordered online?
But the dog...
At the edge of the airstrip, Scout sat at attention beside Will, ready for action. It seemed like a really elaborate con if an assassin had gone to the trouble of training a dog just to take her out of commission.
No. She was just being paranoid. He had a partner and paperwork to prove he was on the up and up. The man had to be a legitimate trooper.
Her stomach in knots and her heart racing, Jasmine climbed into the back of the plane, shoved open the cargo door and started passing boxes out to Harley. He paused close to the plane and slid his hat back to scratch his gray hair. The wrinkles on his sun-lined face were etched deeper than usual. “Everything okay?” He kept his voice low, likely to keep Trooper Stryker from hearing from his position about twenty feet away.
“Fine. He’s just along for the ride.” As much as she’d love to spill about her day to the man who oversaw the small airstrip, she had no desire to blow the trooper’s mission, not if he was trying to keep it secret. Jasmine wanted the drug flow to stop as much as he did and, although she didn’t trust him, she certainly didn’t want to jeopardize his work. “Guess it’s been a while since any law enforcement has been this way, and he saw the need to make a patrol. I picked him up in Nemeti.”
When she moved to pass a huge bag of rice out to Harley, he laid a hand on hers and looked into her eyes from his position on the ground. “It’s a good thing you’re doing, letting him fly in with you. It’s time someone came out here to check on us. They flew Casey Bell out in a helicopter two days ago. Overdose.”
Jasmine’s shoulders slumped. Casey Bell ran a small wildlife rehab center ten miles from the airstrip and often helped Harley keep the makeshift runway graded. “What did he take?”
“I haven’t heard. I just know it wasn’t good when he left.” With a quick pat of her hand, he went back to his job, stacking the cargo onto the back of an ancient four-wheeler so he could haul it to the locked storage shed. People from outlying areas would come in and get their shipments as they were able.
Jasmine sat back on her heels and watched him drive away. He nodded his head at the trooper as he passed, and the trooper looked up from his satellite phone long enough to nod back.
Harley was right. Someone needed to check up on the people she cared about, the people she served. And no one knew the flight paths better than she did. What if she offered a truce to Trooper Stryker? Allowed him to tag along with her for more than one day while he figured out who the real bad guys were? It would be uncomfortable, but her discomfort would be a small price to pay to put a choke hold on the drug trade on the frontier.
When her sat phone buzzed in her pocket, she glanced at the number and pulled it to her ear, her heart picking up speed. She glanced at the small storage pouch by her seat where she stored her pistol. If that man wasn’t a real law enforcement officer after all...
Pulling in a deep breath, she answered the phone.
“Jasmine.” Deputy Marshal Maldonado’s voice was professional yet friendly. “Are you safe?”
“I am. I hope. You tell me.”
“Trooper Will Stryker is legit. I spoke to his colonel. If you’re looking at a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed trooper with a border collie named Scout as a partner, then you’re looking at Will Stryker.”
Across the space between them, he seemed to sense they were talking about him and glanced up. “I am.”
“Good. Your identity is safe. I did a cursory check and it doesn’t appear anyone has accessed your witness protection file. No one is coming after you today.”
“You’re sure?” Trusting was difficult, but the deputy had never steered her wrong.
“You can fly Trooper Stryker wherever he needs to go...and he will leave you this evening none the wiser. The only way this would become an issue is if he was joining you long-term. We’d have to find a way to answer his questions then.” Maldonado cleared his throat. “His colonel informed me he’s pretty relentless when he smells trouble. And while it’s not unusual to let law enforcement know your situation, I’d advise against letting too many people find out.”
“So, what happens if he flies with me for longer than today?” The words were out before she could stop them. The implosion of her life two years ago had started because she wanted to help. She’d fled her life in Los Angeles after witnessing a drug hit gone wrong. Testifying had cost Jasmine her name, her second-grade classroom and her family. While her life had gone up in flames and she’d been looking over her shoulder ever since, taking the stand had been worth it. Her testimony had put contract killer Anton Rogers into maximum security prison for life.
He’d vowed revenge. A bomb beneath her car shortly after he was locked away said that he could still reach her, even from prison. When he targeted her for execution, Yasmine Carlisle had died so that Jasmine Jefferson could be born.
“What do you mean by him flying with you for more than just today?” Deputy Maldonado shifted from skeptical to resigned. “You want to help him, don’t you?”
Jasmine said nothing. She didn’t have to. The deputy marshal knew her well. Even if she found herself in danger again, she couldn’t turn her back on the people of Alaska.
Maldonado exhaled loudly. It was hard to tell if he was frustrated or simply resigned to the fact that God had given her a personality that couldn’t help but serve others. “I can’t tell you not to, but you have to understand that if you want to work with him and alleviate all of his suspicions about you, then you’ll likely have to allow me to tell him the truth about who you are. And that means, when this is over, it broadens the possibility that you could have to leave Alaska in order to guarantee your safety.”
No. Alaska was her home now. It had taken two years, but she finally felt safe here. Felt like she was doing the work God had created her to do. Her job was crucial to people’s survival. She was good at it, and she got to fly, which was the thing she loved most in the world. In fact, it was one of the things she’d refused to give up when she moved into protection.
But if it meant saving lives by slicing the head off the dragon...
Jasmine turned away from Will and stared across the undulating land to the mountains in the distance. With a sigh, she surrendered the life she loved. “Tell him.”
Head tilted toward his phone, Will surreptitiously watched Jasmine as she disconnected her call and stared at the device. She’d initially appeared disturbed but, based on her straightened posture, she’d apparently come to some sort of resolve.
That resolve had better not involve leaving him at this remote outpost. Or dumping his body somewhere nearby.
Now she sat in the cargo door, legs dangling over the side of the plane. She observed him as though waiting for something. For him to apologize again? Maybe—
His phone vibrated and indicated a blocked number. Interesting. He flicked the screen and answered. “Stryker.”
“Trooper Will Stryker?” The man’s voice was brusque. All business.
Will’s pulse picked up. “Yes.”
“I’m Deputy US Marshal Sam Maldonado.”
His eyes narrowed, and he watched Jasmine jump from the plane. Her lower lip was drawn between her teeth. Gone was the tough woman who’d booted him off her plane. Clearly, this call had everything to do with her. “Go ahead.”
“We need to talk about Jasmine Jefferson.”
He knew it. She was on the run. He wasn’t fond of arresting her out here alone, but if—
“Trooper, I’m with Witness Security.”
The phone nearly slipped through Will’s fingers. Of all the things he’d expected, that wasn’t one of them. “WITSEC?” He scrubbed his hand along the back of his neck. What sort of trouble had he unleashed for Jasmine by checking into her background?
Beside him, Scout stood and pressed his nose to Will’s calf, sensing the tension.
“I’ll forward proof to you and your colonel over secure channels, but you can trust her. She wants to help you.” The voice lost some of its businesslike tone. “Even if it means giving up her life a second time. She can tell you more, but know she will put herself in danger to protect others.”
“I can see that. What did she do to merit protection?” He was fishing. Was she a bad actor who’d turned on someone else to save herself?
“She’s an innocent civilian who chose to give up her life to put away a criminal. Be careful with what she’s giving you.” The deputy marshal ended the call.
By the time Will gathered his thoughts, Jasmine had completed her preflight and climbed into her seat where she sat waiting. He hefted Scout into the plane, secured him and took his seat. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”
She lifted the headset. “Not over these.” She held up a hand to stop Harley as he walked out to remove the wheel chocks. When he backed away with a puzzled expression, she spoke. “I’ll tell you the short version, but we don’t discuss it in flight over headsets.”
Understandable. Even though the odds were against someone overhearing a cockpit transmission, it could still happen.
“I was a teacher in California. I was out running errands in a neighborhood I’d never visited before.” She fiddled with her seat belt. “I saw a man in an alley shoot another man in the back of the head. And he saw me. I made it to a police station before he caught up.”
Her voice was emotionless. She was clearly leaving out the details, holding the horrors of that day at bay.
Will nearly reached over and took her hand, then he remembered who he was and what his job was and opted for professionalism.
“It wasn’t a simple murder. He was a hired killer responsible for dozens of deaths, and he was contracted to an upstart cartel run by Dasha Melnyk. My testimony put Anton in jail, and he cut a deal.” She released a quavering breath. “His testimony shut down the cartel’s operations entirely. When he threatened me, and one of his signature bombs showed up under my car after the trial, I wound up here. He proved he could reach me from the inside.”
Dasha Melnyk. He knew a little about the case. The cartel had crumbled, and Melnyk had disappeared somewhere in Romania, rumored dead at the hands of her biggest rival.
Jasmine finally faced him, eyes wide with fear—or determination. Will wasn’t quite sure which.
“I’ve been flying since I was sixteen, although it was a hobby. It was the one part of my life WITSEC let me keep. I love Alaska. Love supplying people who’d be cut off and in danger without us.” She swept her hand across the cockpit toward the wide-open spaces before them. “I don’t want to jeopardize this life, but if it will stop drug runners from destroying more lives, I’ll do whatever it takes.” Without waiting for him to comment, she slipped on her headset and motioned for Harley to remove the wheel chocks before she started the plane. “If Jesus can die for me, then...”
Will slid on his headset but remained silent. She would lay her life down for people she hardly knew and most of whom she’d never meet. But she loved them enough to give up everything, and her words echoed ones he knew all too well, words he tried to live by. “You’re a Christian?”
As the plane coasted to a stop before takeoff, she nodded. Before he could say more, they’d bumped down the runway and were airborne, headed to Loifort, a little less than an hour’s flight away. He’d already been warned it was a remote location with no grounds crew or staff, but flying in would give him the lay of the land.
Every day, Will recited Christ’s words in his head, prepared to literally die for the people of Alaska. But he’d never considered that dying might also mean continuing to breathe while giving up everything to survive.
“Why do you do what you do, Trooper?” Jasmine’s voice crackled in his ear, but she kept her eyes on the gauges and the sky before them. “You don’t seem like the type to enjoy running around the wilds of Alaska.”
“Oh?” Will angled his body toward her, willing to engage in conversation. She ran deeper than he’d anticipated, had flipped sideways everything he’d assumed about her. Had reminded him of what fellow trooper Helena Maddox said way too often. It’s innocent until proven guilty, Stryker. Not the other way around. Your unwillingness to remember that is going to get you into trouble one day.
It nearly had today. “So what type of guy do I seem like?”
She nearly smiled. It was a first, and he had to admit it was attractive. “You’re all spit and polish, kind of like if your uniform got mud on it, you’d freak out. I’m guessing there’s stain remover in your backpack.”
He laughed and, when he did, the air in the plane seemed to lighten. “Nope. The spit and polish is part of the job. I hate shining and ironing. You should have seen me a few weeks ago, crawling in the mud trying to locate a poacher. I loved every minute of it.”
“Hard to imagine you muddy, Trooper.”
“Call me Will.” He held out his hand, realizing he’d never actually introduced himself.
She gave his hand a quick shake, and this time she really did smile, lighting up the full force of a grin. “Wait. Will Stryker? Did your parents have a random name generator for cops? That sounds like a purposely heroic name.” She dropped her chin and her voice. “Will Stryker. Defender of the innocent.”
He chuckled. It wasn’t the first time he’d been poked about the name. “I had it legally changed. It was originally Humbert Hubert.”
“That’s not true.” With her secret in the open, something had changed. It sure was making this flight more comfortable than their previous one.
“You’re right, but it makes a good story.”
This time when she smiled, the man in Will noticed. From behind his sunglasses, he watched as she guided the plane through the air, navigating shifting air currents along the edge of the mountains. She was confident and capable, at ease in the cockpit in a way he envied. With her chin-length hair waving darkly from beneath the ball cap she’d smashed over it, he had to admit she was a beautiful woman.
Something he shouldn’t be noticing. He watched the wilderness below roll away to mountains, crisscrossed with waterways. All of this would be frozen soon, an entirely different sort of dangerous wonderland.
There was a long, companionable silence, one he was reluctant to break. Finally, the splendor around him drove Will to speak. “I’ll never get used to the wild out here. Or to the way it stays daylight until after midnight.”
“That took some getting used to. I’ve been here two years and I’m just now getting to where I can sleep.” She adjusted her grip on the yoke. “Are you really from Kansas, or did you just say that to get a reaction from me?”
He nodded, acknowledging that she’d caught him. “Minnesota. When they started the K-9 unit here, I wanted to be a part of it.” That, and Minnesota had too many rough memories. Memories of why he’d gone into law enforcement. Memories of how criminals never played fair.
“You didn’t answer my original question.” This time, she faced him and, although she wore sunglasses, he couldn’t tear away from the directness of her gaze. “Why do you do this? If we’re working together, I’d like to know your level of commitment.” Gone were the smile and the teasing tone. She was laying her life on the line for him and for the people she served.
He could at least tell her the truth he held close to his bulletproof vest.
Will tapped the side of his headset to remind her someone might be listening. He wasn’t interested in broadcasting his entire story to the world. “The short version is that my mother...” Emotion rushed his chest in a way that it hadn’t in a long time. Something about the small cockpit and the hum of the engines made the telling more difficult. He pulled in a deep breath and opted for the easy way out. “My mother was an addict.” That was all she needed to know.
Only Jasmine’s sigh broke the hum of static in his headset, and then her hand was on his. She gave his fingers a quick squeeze before she withdrew, almost as though she’d never touched him.
But the warmth lingered. It crept up his arm and into his chest, loosening the bands there, making him want to say more. To tell her how it had felt when his mother had overdosed—not by accident and not by suicide. How it had felt when, at eighteen, he’d had to identify her at the morgue. How he’d dropped out of college and done four years in the army before he’d found himself and decided to go into law enforcement. How his job had led to yet another thrashing of his heart. Things he’d never—
“We have a problem.” Jasmine’s voice cut into his chaotic thoughts. When he turned, she was staring at a gauge in front of her, then she leaned over to look at the one in front of him.
For the first time, he realized the engines sounded different, as though they might be struggling.
“The gauges don’t back me up, but...” Jasmine looked straight at him, her mouth a grim line. “I’m pretty sure we’re out of fuel.”
“Whoa. What?” Every muscle in Will’s body tightened. While he wasn’t afraid of flying, crashing was a whole other story.
“We had fuel when I checked. Gauges say we do. But the engines—” A sputtering cough cut through her words. “Both engines aren’t getting fuel.” She switched on the radio. “Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Nevada five-seven-five-xray-romeo.” She repeated the information and gave their situation and location.
The radio remained silent.
Jasmine repeated the call, again with no answer. With a frustrated huff, she flipped switches and adjusted half a dozen things he had no idea what to call. “We should be getting a response on the radio. It’s dead.”
Will balled his fists, working hard not to focus on the eerie silence. A dead radio and no fuel? He didn’t believe in that much coincidence. “Now what?”
“Now we land it like a glider.” She glanced sideways at him. “It can be done, but it’s rough. And my best option is right there.” She pulled her hand from the yoke only long enough to indicate a flat open area between a river and a mountain. “We’re fine as long as we don’t get a downdraft or lose altitude too fast. Make sure you and Scout are secured.”
Scout. Will reached behind him and laid his hand on his partner’s head. He’d never felt so out of control. There was nothing he could do but watch and trust.
And pray.
The quiet after the engine sounds was loud, but he didn’t dare speak as Jasmine made adjustments and gripped the yoke so tightly her knuckles were white.
The ground grew closer.
“Get ready.” Jasmine muttered the words, her concentration clearly on her job.
Should he brace for impact? Fireballs and flipping planes raced across his mind, but he forced them aside and prayed without actual words. They’d be safe. They had to be.
The plane hit hard, bounced, hit again then immediately seemed to slide left toward the mountain. Why wasn’t she steering away? “What are you doing?”
“Tire blew.” She fought the plane for control as the mountain loomed larger. “Will. Pray.”