Page 101 of Burning Justice

The plane’s motor sputtered to life. The prop began turning, gathering speed until Gemma could no longer make out the individual propellers.

Through the side window, she locked gazes with Brett. His jaw was so tight, every muscle and bone stood out starkly, but it was the look of fear on his face that sent a chill down her spine. There was nothing he could do. He wouldn’t risk taking a kill shot and accidentally killing her.

Blaze began running in circles around the plane, barking and trying to get to her.

“Try to escape, and I will shoot you. Do you understand?” When she didn’t respond immediately, Kelly shouted, “Do you understand?”

“Y-yes.” Gemma gulped. Kelly Hawkin was a ruthless, merciless woman. There was no way she’d let her live. As soon as they took off, Gemma was a dead woman. Kelly would either shoot her and dump her out of the plane in mid-air, or they’d land somewhere, then blast her in the head.

The engine roared, and the nose of the plane swung in a tight arc, turning toward the other side of the hangar. Michael reached up to the visor and clicked what looked like a garage door opener.

The door on the other side of the hangar rose. The plane continued turning in a one-eighty. When the door had fully opened, Gemma’s heart thumped faster. A paved road—a taxiway—just outside the hangar led directly to the airport’s one and only runway.

She twisted her neck to look behind the plane to where Brett, Deck, and Evan stood. Time was running out. In fact, it was out.

This was no different from being attacked in a parking lot and dragged into a vehicle. Hadn’t her father and brothers taught her that? Once they rolled out of here, it was all over. She might die trying to escape, but at least she’d go out knowing she’d tried.

The plane completed its arc. Hawkin nudged the power, and the plane picked up speed, rolling faster toward the open door. The voice in her head echoed louder: Now, now, now!

She took a deep breath, bent her head forward as far as it would go, then slammed it backward, ramming it into Kelly’s head.

“Fuck!” she bellowed.

Ouch. Pain shot to the back of Gemma’s skull. White flashes obscured her vision.

Kelly’s hold around her loosened. The muzzle of the gun lowered, scraping along her cheek.

Gemma grabbed Kelly’s wrist, jerking the gun away from her head.

“You bitch!” She pounded on Gemma’s head with her other fist.

Gemma’s shoulder muscles screamed as she grappled for control of the gun. She was in relatively good shape, but Kelly was bigger, and she was strong. If she managed to regain control of the gun, Gemma had no doubt the woman wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her in the head.

The plane roared toward the open door. Ten more feet and they’d be outside the hangar.

Drawing on every bit of strength she could muster, Gemma slammed Kelly’s hand—the one with the gun—against the back of the pilot’s seat. A gunshot blasted inside the cockpit.

Michael screamed. Blood spattered the inside of the front window. “You shot me!” He released the controls and grabbed his shoulder.

The plane’s nose abruptly changed course, then dipped as they rolled over a long metal drain running the width of the hangar. The plane veered off at an angle.

Heading directly for the wall.

“Do something!” Kelly shoved Gemma, slamming her against the opposite bulkhead, then leaned over her husband’s shoulder to grab the control wheel, which did nothing to change the plane’s direction.

Gemma looked up to see the wall of drums rushing at them.

A second before impact, she flung her hands in front of her face and screamed.

…

The plane picked up speed, veering on a collision course with the wall.

No! Gemma’s scream ripped through Brett. They’d all heard the gunshot. His guts twisted with terror that she’d been hit.

As a unit, Brett, Deck, Evan, and Blaze took off running, racing across the hangar. Fear threatened to burn a hole in Brett’s chest.

The nose cone impacted first. Dull thumping came next, as the propeller blades hit the plastic drums, slicing through them like butter before scraping against the wall with a high-pitched screech.