“All right Follow him, Honor. Stay where I can keep, track of both of you or [_1 _]won’t wait until we reach Mexico before I settle my score with you.” Prager motioned once more with the gun.
Honor shivered as moonlight glanced along the black metallic barrel of the weapon and then obediently turned to follow Judd. At the entrance to the office she watched in silence as Judd flipped a switch. Out on the runway two long rows of lights blinked into existence.
“Will the lights attract attention at this time of night?” Prager demanded uneasily.
Judd shook his head once. “No. If anyone notices he’ll just assume someone’s practicing a little night flying. Happens all the time. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready. Honor will ride in front with you again, I think. I’ll take the back seat.”
Judd nodded, saying nothing, and started out to the waiting Cessna. Honor trailed along behind him, terrifyingly aware of the gun pointed at her back. Her fingers were already beginning to tremble, she realized distantly. Nervously she watched Judd go through his preflight check and then Prager was ordering her into the plane.
Ten minutes later, with Prager still holding his gun and sitting behind Honor, Judd lifted the Cessna off the runway into the night sky over Albuquerque. He shot a glance at Honor’s stark expression and then concentrated on his flying. There was nothing he could say or do to soothe her now. She’d been through a hell of a lot because of that bastard in the back seat and there was more to come before the night was over. One gutsy lady.
He let the plane climb rapidly, seeking plenty of altitude. The field elevation was a little over five thousand feet which meant he needed a bit above ten. He watched the needle slip past the numbers on the altimeter, seventy-five hundred, eight thousand….
What was Honor thinking? Was she remembering the sight of all that money in the suitcase and wondering how much fifty thousand would mean to a mercenary who never asked too many questions about the jobs he accepted? Eighty-five hundred feet. Nine thousand.
She was frightened but she was in control, he realized. Just as she had been in control of her fear that night when he’d found her in the cantina in Mexico. He remembered his own feelings that night as he had stared at her through the smoke of die noisy cantina. After a week of looking he’d finally found the woman in the photograph and the reality was even more intriguing than the image. She’d been scared but defiant and she’d kept her head, trying to bribe him and then, later, trying to use the gun.
He’d never forget listening to her slowly remove the cheap weapon from the bedside drawer. After he’d found the bullets he’d been curious to see whether or not she’d have the nerve to try the gun. And then he recalled the way she had hurled herself at him in frustrated fury and the way she had felt beneath him when he’d finally succeeded in subduing her. It had required all his willpower not to take her that night. He’d wanted her so badly.
The altimeter needle passed ninety-five hundred feet. Other images flashed in Judd’s mind, memories of the way Honor had taunted him that day beside the stream until he had finally realized she was playing with him; memories of the way she had responded to him in bed.
And now she sat beside him wondering if he was going to wind up being her executioner after all. Ninety-nine hundred feet…
Quite suddenly Judd realized exactly how Honor must have felt the morning after he had first made love to her. He knew because right now he wanted her to have complete faith in him. Just as she had wanted him to have complete trust in her that morning. He didn’t want her waiting to see if he’d take the money. He didn’t want her wondering whether fifty thousand dollars meant more than having her in his bed. He didn’t want her to take a wait-and-see attitude while the logic of the situation developed.
He wanted complete, unequivocal trust from her. Judd’s hands tightened on the wheel.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw moonlight glint off the gun barrel in Prager’s hand. The altimeter needle passed through ten thousand. Ten thousand should be enough. He eased back on the throttle and slowly brought up the Cessna’s nose. The little plane began to slow. He applied more back pressure on the wheel and the Cessna began to fight him, seeking a level attitude.
Honor glanced at him and he saw her grip the edge of her seat. Did she realize what was happening? There was no time to wonder what was going through her head now. Judd eased the wheel back farther and the airspeed fell off drastically as the nose of the plane climbed past the horizon.
“Hey, what the hell’s going on?” Finally Nick Prager began to realize something was wrong.
Judd felt the shudder that preceded the stall. An instant later the stall took hold.
“Raven! Damn it, what’s happening?” There was an element of panic in Prager’s voice as the Cessna stalled. “What’s wrong?”
Judd kicked in the right rudder and the plane turned almost lazily into a right spin as the nose dropped sickening downward. Prager yelled as a split second later the sprinkling of lights on the desert floor began to whirl dizzily beneath them. The Cessna spun violently toward the ground.
[_”Raven!” _]Prager’s tone was now filled with panic. “Raven, stop it!”
Honor said nothing. She clutched the edges of her seat and sat staring stonily through the windshield as the plane spun downward.
Raven watched his instruments, counting spins and altitude. “Hand the gun over to Honor, Prager. I told you I don’t do my best work when I’ve got a weapon pointed at my head.”
“Damn you! What the hell kind of game are you playing?” Prager screamed in violent fear. “I’ll kill you both!”
“In that case there’s no real incentive for me to bring this plane out of the spin, is there?”
“Raven! Listen to me! Fifty thousand dollars, man. I’ll make it a hundred thousand!”
“I’ll listen to the money, but not to the gun. Hand it to Honor.”
The plane went through another revolution and the lights below swung around in a way that was bound to make anyone’s stomach churn. Judd saw Honor unclench one of her hands and extend it back toward Prager.
“The gun, Nick,” she gritted. “Give me the gun or he’ll send us all into the ground. Believe me, he’s a lot better at playing chicken than you are.”
“Hand over the gun and then we’ll talk about the money I’m going to get for this little assignment,” Judd said calmly. He didn’t have a whole lot more time. The ground was approaching at a terrifying rate.