Dangerous Mating (A.L.F.A., #3)(49)

The jet kept coming. What the fuck were they thinking? Their vehicle nosed into the ditch and popped up on the other side. Almost there. No one was backing down. Goddammit, Kari. She was getting it from him for scaring the shit out of him. What “it” was he’d decide later.

They raced the jet toward the car parked on the strip. He prayed one of them would bail. Now would be better than later. The jet’s speed had reached the point where it couldn’t slow in time. Shit! How would he save her?

The company truck hit the concrete the same time the pilot slammed on the brakes. Loud peals of screeching filled the air as smoke from the jet’s and truck’s tires floated close to the ground from their skids. Long black marks marred the pale strip.

The plane stopped within a foot of Kari’s outstretched hand. He’d be damned, she pulled it off. She had freaking superpowers. She was in so much trouble.

He jumped out of the truck with Sheldon. Through the headset, he heard the tower trying to reach the pilots, but they were not responding still. Running toward his mate, he glanced at the cockpit. A man stood between the pilots, pistol in his hand. That would be the reason the pilots weren’t responding to the tower’s requests. The gunman looked familiar. Bryon thought he might’ve seen him in the cave earlier.

The three in the cockpit seemed to be arguing, the guy with the gun waving it around. One of the pilots gesturing out the windshield at Kari on the car’s hood. He must have been the reason the plane hadn’t stopped; not his mate’s superpowers. Thank god for small miracles.

They reached the car together and Bryon reached for Kari. Sheldon held his arms out to his side, eyes scanning the damaged vehicle his mate stood on. “The car is a wreck. The boss won’t be happy.”

“What?” Kari said. “It’s a rental. You got the insurance, right? Never mind. I need your gun.”

“What? No way—” Sheldon stepped back from her reaching hand.

“Sheldon,” she yelled over the jet’s slowing engines, “there are twenty women and children on this plane who will be sold into slavery and and the sex trade if this jet leaves this airport. I’m not allowing that to happen. Now give me your gun.”

Without further argument, Sheldon lifted his gun to her hand. She turned toward the pilots, weapon aimed at them. She fired four shots, breaching the windshields, making the plane too dangerous to fly. It wasn’t taking off any time soon. When the pilots peeped over the dashboard, she pointed to the loading area and building. They had no options. They had to go back. The guy with the weapon was gone.

Pride soared through Bryon at what his mate had done. She had put her own life in danger to save complete strangers from a horrible existence. Her heart was as big as any he’d ever seen. And she belonged to him.





Chapter Thirty-four




Kari stood on the roof of the rented vehicle staring down the plane stopped in front of her. Any normal person would’ve passed out from fear. Shit. She should’ve been rolling on the ground—her knees being too weak to hold her up.

But she wasn’t.

Her body was fueled with energy. She felt incredibly strong, righteousness giving her courage, but stealing her common sense to not stand in front of a jet rolling down a runway.

Really, though, the jet would stop. No way could it take off after smashing into a car. The front landing gear would be torn to shit. The pilots knew this and, she had no doubt, they would back off. This game of chicken was over before it began.

The hijacker didn’t know she had been called the Chickenator by the kids on her block while growing up.

One of the older boys used to bully the younger kids on her street. On a cold day before she turned twelve, she stood with her bike at the end of the block. Billy the Bully was picking on her next-door neighbor kid. She yelled at him to leave the kid alone. Billy’s head snapped around to see who had called him out.

“Well, if it isn’t Scary Kari, scaring everyone with her fat, ugly face.” Billy sneered then laughed. She’d had as much as she could take of the bastard. She got on her bike and pedaled toward him. She was going to show him she wasn’t scared of him anymore.

Billy picked up his bike laying in the neighbor’s yard and pedaled directly in her path. “You wanna play chicken, Scary Kari? Let’s rumble.” Their eyes met and locked. Neither giving an inch. She figured the worst that could happen was they crashed into each other and get bumps and bruises. She could live with that to make Billy leave them alone.

Kari hunkered down over the handlebars, her new aerodynamic helmet strapped on tightly. Seconds before they crashed, she saw the fear in his eyes. Someone was standing up to him, not cowering in a corner. She’d let him have it.

A moment too late, Billy turned his front wheel to the side and she crashed head on into him. Her helmet slammed against his forehead, effectively knocking him out cold. Her bike bucked, throwing the rest of her body over the bikes and rider in front of her. She landed on her butt on the other side of the collision.

Her neighbor kid ran to her, mouth gaping, eyes as wide as basketballs. “Oh my god, Kari. You killed Billy.”

The boy bled from the nose and his cheek had a scratch. She saw his shirt move up and down; that was a relief. “No,” she said. “I just knocked him out.”

The kid stared between her and the bully lying on a bent bicycle as if watching a tennis match. “Wow. That was awesome. You weren’t scared of him. You’re the Chickenator. You ate him up and spit him out. I gotta tell everyone.” Well, she was afraid, but she contained that fear and did what she had to do to protect those she cared for.