Mercy and Mayhem Men of Mercy(8)

Marley paused for air, and then asked, "Do you have any questions or concerns I should be aware of?"

"Thank you, Captain. We are mission ready. As soon as you give us a go, we'll be out of your plane."

"Yes, Sir." Marley spun, fighting the urge to turn and run and hide in the cockpit. Instead, she placed one foot deliberately in front of the other and ascended into the cockpit. Still, she was barely aware of her surroundings as she slid into her seat.

She'd been around plenty of elite operatives before, Marine special operations, Navy SEALs, CIA covert spies, but she'd never been crushed under the intense wave of absolute dominance emanating off every man in her cargo hold. Let alone their colonel-he'd had no name tag or identification on his black shirt and black tactical pants. To the innocent bystander he would look exactly like the rest of his team, but any person who slowed down enough to notice his air of authority would realize he was unmistakably the leader of that daunting group of warriors.

She was woman enough to acknowledge why her hand was trembling as she reached up and brushed a stray strand of brown hair back from her face.

"Everything okay over there, Mitchell?" Her copilot's level tone brought her back into the cockpit and she glanced at him, afraid he'd picked up on her attraction for the colonel.

But he simply stared at her as if it were any other day and he were waiting on her to do her check . . . her check . . . dammit. Marley yanked the manual from the side pocket on her right and quickly flew through her round of crossed checks. Two minutes later, a full minute past the time she'd promised the colonel, Marley gave the signal for a go.

Her copilot didn't need to radio the tower for takeoff, not for this kind of mission. This was the only airport within two hundred miles, and breaking radio silence would be a disaster. Any idiot with the talent and communications could hack into their frequency, paint a red target on her plane, and blast it into one million pieces-even if they didn't know who they were shooting down.

As far as everyone in the area knew, this airport was used by drug cartels and terrorists-an impression it benefited the intelligence community to encourage. The only way people would discover its true purpose was to spy on it 24/7. She and the copilot wore flight suits, sure, but that was the only real tell. The men in the back were dressed as unobtrusively and deadly as possible. 

"Firing engines one and two." As if on autopilot herself, Marley reached forward and flicked the switch. The other propellers kicked into gear, followed by a loud whine as they hit full speed and powered to life.

The blasting sound gave her the same adrenaline rush it always did.

Palms sweaty-check.

Chest tight-check.

"Accelerating," she said, embracing the rush like the pure sweet heroin that it was. Marley pushed the yoke forward, increasing speed rapidly.

Her copilot said, "Thirty miles per hour. Forty. Sixty." The cracks beneath the plane whirred into a solid gray slab. They were approaching the dark green jungle like a bullet. Marley's grip tightened on the yoke.

Her copilot kept going. "Eighty, Ninety." He flicked up a cap on the right side of the dashboard. "Lowering flaps." With another flick of his finger, he enacted the hydraulic system to push the flaps out and down on the wings. The plane lifted, settled back onto the running concrete, and lifted again. Marley yanked back on the yoke. The treetops couldn't be more than twenty feet away. She pulled harder. The nose of the plane shifted upward. Blue skies filled her windshield, clear sailing as she ascended straight up into the lower level of clouds covering the atmosphere.

"Landing gear up. We're at 8,000 feet. Enacting the automatic pressure control now."

Her copilot pressed the button to automate the pressure inside the entire plane to ensure no one passed out from lack of oxygen as they continued to climb.

"Cruising altitude reached. Engaging autopilot," Marley said.

"Roger," her copilot confirmed.

She eased the yoke forward so they were flying in a smooth, level plane. Once the autopilot was engaged, she let go of the yoke and relaxed. There wasn't anything marring the expansive sky stretched out in front of her; it was all smooth skies and white, puffy clouds. Marley felt at home here. This is where her soul settled-in the clouds with the dreamers and the birds and the stars.

They cruised in silence for the next hour or so. In the silence of the cockpit, Marley found herself mulling over what the operatives were doing in the back. The men would be completely geared up by now, their oxygen masks and parachutes strapped firmly on, checked over at least twice-their colonel would demand it-sitting in their jump seats waiting patiently for go time.