Surrender (The Command Series Book 3) (14 page)

“I know that I need you to get through this.”

The uneven cadence of his voice was shocking and her eyes were drawn to him like he was the center of her gravity. His face had changed, taking on the same look of longing he’d given her right after their encounter in the bathroom this afternoon. Her heart thudded.

“Why?”

His low voice was full of hesitancy. “Because maybe when this is over, we could—”

The loud horn blared, cut off, and then rang again in a steady pattern, and the dread that filled his face was devastating.

-11-

Ethan watched Olivia’s focus snap back to the controls. She’d barely seemed surprised when the alarm had sounded, but it had startled the hell out of him. He’d never been all that comfortable with flying, and he had to steel himself now to remain calm.

“What’s happening?”

“We’re losing pressure.” She snapped up the steering column and there was a flurry of activity. Another alarm honked and was cut off immediately when she stabbed her finger on the button in the center between them.

“Why are we losing pressure?”

“We must have a leak.”

The answer came far too quick and tight. Everything inside him was already on alert, but this set him even more on edge. What was her play here? To claim a malfunction and try to force Gio into jumping with a parachute? She’d so obviously been planning something since Gio returned to his seat. Her whole body had gone rigid and she’d been carefully measuring out her breath so as not to seem anxious. She’d failed miserably.

“What’s going on?” Gio yelled, storming up to the cockpit.

“Turbulence,” Ethan lied. “Go back to your seat and buckle in.”

The piece of shit muttered a curse and plodded to his chair in the back, thankfully as far away from Olivia as possible. Ethan had almost killed Gio on the tarmac. The moment he’d heard the gunshots he’d been seized with panic that Olivia was dead. Instead, Gio had the gun on her, and Ethan’s brain quit working.

Relief she was alive mixed with rage over what Gio had done. This unexpected rush of emotion had stopped his impulse to sink a bullet into Gio, which was good. With the rest of the crew dead, he had no choice but to let it play out. If he’d killed Gio when he wanted to, he might have gotten a little justice for the dead men beneath them on the plane, but what about his mission? What about the deal in the works with the terrorist cell? With both of his sons dead, Vitale would be impossible to break.

That is, of course, if Olivia didn’t kill them first with whatever scheme she was working on. He admired the fight in her, but she had the worst fucking timing. He had hoped she would trust him, but that answer was clearly no.

“Can you fix it?” Ethan asked, apprehensive of the lie he knew was coming.

“We’ll be okay. It’s a slow leak.” But she sounded out of breath, and he noticed it was difficult for him to catch his breath as well. The alarm that had alerted him she’d put her plan into action, rang again, only this time it was serious. She didn’t get a chance to shut it off. The compartments above their heads burst open and oxygen masks rained down.

He pushed aside panic and snatched up the dangling orange cup, fumbling with the elastic straps. She’d moved with planned efficiency, and had her mask secure a heartbeat after they’d fallen from the compartments.

Gio yelled something, but it was muffled as the Italian must have put his own mask on.

“Olivia, stop this,” Ethan commanded. “Whatever you’ve done, fix it now.”

Her traitorous gaze darted from the gauges to lock onto him. She pulled the cup of the mask away a half-inch so she could speak. “You think I made this happen?”

“Yes.” Not a shred of doubt.

She glanced away, guilty. “I didn’t.”

He grabbed her elbow, hard. He didn’t have time to talk sense into her, even if he could get her to listen to it. Her eyes widened with startled pain at his grip. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but, goddamn it . . . they were wearing oxygen masks and sirens wailed overhead. Was the plan to kill them all?

“Now,” he commanded.

“No.”

Cold wrapped its fingers around Ethan as she pushed him closer to where he didn’t want to go. He played the last card he had left before the mission directive would take over. “Please.”

Again, she pulled the mask away from her face. “He’ll run out of oxygen before we do. Just wait a few more minutes.”

Only then she’d correct whatever she’d done to depressurize the plane. Ethan knew all too well what a dangerous game she was playing. Knocking someone out by depriving them of oxygen was risky. If Gio went too long, the chance of the CIA gathering the intelligence on the terrorist cell would die with him.

Ethan had come too far to turn back. He dug in his pocket and pulled out the knife, flipping the blade open. She was smart enough to know he couldn’t threaten her life. But he could make the empty threat of harm and try to intimidate her. Her knuckles went white on the wheel as she eyed the sharp blade.

“Fix it,” he ordered and set the edge against her forearm.

She looked down at the blade pressed against her skin, the steel flashing with each warning light above her head. “I will soon, I promise.”

How long did Gio have? What if the asshole had taken his mask off—

Ethan released her, pulled the knife away, and stood.
Don’t think about how stupid this is, get it over with.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her alarm evident.

He took a deep breath, yanked at the clear tubing that was connected to his oxygen bag, and wrapped it around the blade, showing her what was about to happen. Only the constant, repetitive warning alarm blared from the panel before she reacted.

“No!” She reached up to try to stop him, but it was too late. He sliced easily through the rubber, severing his lifeline, and tore the mask off his face, throwing it across the cockpit in pure frustration. He fell back into the seat, so angry that she’d forced him into this. Now she’d have to choose which was more important, exacting her revenge on Gio, or letting Ethan continue to breathe. It was a huge gamble and, shit, he’d never been so worried about guessing wrong.

But Olivia . . . he’d kissed her, he’d slept with her, he’d told her his real name. Ethan had done things with her that he wasn’t allowed to while on an op. She
meant
something to him, and he was banking on her feelings being similar. He hoped.

“You stupid asshole! Why?” she yelled. He opened his mouth to say something, but she shook her head adamantly. “Don’t say a thing, save your air.” She leaned over, flipped a switch, and then shut off the warning, although the light continued to blink like a sickening strobe.

She tried to take off her mask, looking intent on sharing with him, but now it was his turn to shake his head. No one could afford for her to pass out. Her horrified expression was unsettling, so he stared out at the blackness beyond the windshield.

What now? Should he continue to sit beside her as his lungs began to demand air? He could stumble down the cabin aisle and grab one of the free masks hanging there, but if he left her, she’d shut and lock the cockpit door. He couldn’t trust her. And he wouldn’t be able to keep her safe either. Ironic that he still wanted to protect her, even as his body screamed inside.

It was the lack of oxygen, that had to be the cause of this action. His hand closed around Olivia’s and he tangled his fingers with hers like a goddamn high school boyfriend. He clung to her, seemingly the only thing keeping him present in the moment, and when he wasn’t moderately concerned he was going to die, he wanted to examine this action more clearly.

“Pressure’s climbing,” she said, squeezing his hand. His head weighed a ton and his neck was slow to respond when he wanted to look at her. “It’s coming up, just hang on.”

She blurred until he could no longer see and the pounding in his head crushed him with every thud. Okay, the pressure was coming up, but where was the fucking air? Something warm and soft brushed his cheek and he lolled his head into it.

“Ethan,” the lyrical voice whispered. He blinked. The cockpit sharpened slowly back into focus. Olivia’s oxygen mask was gone and her lips were beside his ear, whispering his name a second time, so softly he thought maybe he had died.

She drew back, appearing concerned. “Are you all right?”

How long had he been out? She was gripping the yellow oxygen mask in her lap, so hopefully it had been momentary. He considered her question. The pounding in his head had dulled but persisted, and he was queasy. Yet, he felt steady enough.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Her expression went cold. “Then, get the fuck out of my cockpit.”

The pocketknife was still in his hand, so he shifted in the seat and leaned over her, bringing the knife up. She gasped, cowering beneath him. She feared punishment, but he hadn’t raised the knife up for any other reason than to cut down her oxygen mask. Gripping the rubber tubing, he tugged it free from her and flung it away.

“That’s the last idea you have, do you understand?” he muttered. “I’m the one in charge.”

It was amazing how quickly she could slip from fear back into anger. There was pure contempt in her eyes. “I could have killed you.”

“And, what? You think I’m not capable of killing?” It came out sneering, and he felt ugly inside. She broke the gaze and stared at her hands on the steering wheel.

“Just go, please.” It was shaky. Her weary shoulders sagged. Exhaustion was overwhelming her.

He swallowed hard. “You know I can’t.”

A noise broke free from her, a frustrated sigh. Her fingers went to her neck and she yanked the red scarf loose, undoing the button of her collar. “I want to know why.”

“You left me no choice.”

“No, I want to know why he’s so important that you’re okay with other people dying for him, including yourself.”

Part of him wanted to tell her the truth. She already knew more about Ethan than almost anyone else in the world, so why not? She knew where he was from, his real name, some of the places he’d run ops on. She also knew he’d killed Constantine Abramo, which was something he’d shared with barely anyone else.

Yet, Ethan was pissed with her and his head ached, and that made him refuse to give her what she wanted. “I’ll get you out. After that, I don’t owe you anything.”

She scowled. “No, you sure don’t.”

This time when her gaze returned forward, he knew he wouldn’t get it back on him. He wanted to slam his fist into the dashboard. This was a complicated mess, and if he didn’t lock it down, both of them were going to wind up dead.

“Nathan, what is happening?” Gio’s annoying voice carried up the hallway.

Ethan sighed and scrubbed his face with a palm. “A malfunction in the air system. She’s fixed it.” He glanced over at the cut oxygen masks. “But keep your mask on until we land in case the air goes bad.”

Gio groaned, realizing he’d have to spend the next four hours with the mask on his face, and it made Ethan’s lips curl into a bitter half-smile. At least that should keep the Italian quiet.

The man sitting copilot was mute for the next hour, and all of his unspoken words made Olivia furious. How could he choose Gio after what he’d done?

It was three in the morning in Rome when Ethan climbed out of the seat and went to stand near the back of the space, something small held up to his ear.

“You can’t use a cell phone in the cockpit,” she snapped. It was bullshit. Her copilot almost always left his on, but she was all for trying to exert power over Ethan, who left her feeling like she had none. He ignored her and spoke into the phone in a language she hadn’t heard from him before. German. It made his deep voice sound rough and scary, but she wanted desperately to know what he was saying and whom he was talking to.

The conversation lasted a while, but when it was over, he didn’t return to the seat immediately. She hadn’t heard him leave the cockpit, and by the time she discovered he’d gone, he was already on his way back to her with a water bottle in each hand.

She took one from him when he silently offered it, not thanking him. She was too busy being pissed at herself for missing her opportunity to shut him out of the cockpit. He was over six and a half feet tall and moved without a sound. It made no sense, just like everything else about him.