Nonstop (Open Skies #3) - Becca Jameson Page 0,51

I said to be quiet. Shut the fuck up!”

The noise level dropped. It got much quieter. All that Bex could hear now was quiet sobbing, a collective sound that extended down the entire plane. When she looked over the rows of seats, she found that most people were huddled together, hugging each other, keeping their heads low. A few men farther back seemed to be sitting upright, looking at each other. Were they planning something?

The woman who had been shot in the head must have been traveling alone because the man next to her was leaning away, pushing her slumped body toward the window.

Bex jerked her gaze toward Bracken who was quietly searching through the galley, probably looking for anything he could use as a weapon. It occurred to Bex that it was possible no one in the cockpit knew what was happening yet. And how the hell were these two men going to get into the cockpit? It wasn’t possible. They had to know that.

On the other hand, where did they get the weapons? If they managed that, they could have something on them that would open the cockpit.

Bex’s mind was running fast. It was like a switch flipped and she sprang into action, remembering everything she’d ever been taught about situations like this.

She’d also been prepared and calm when she needed to be with the human trafficker. The fact that the air marshal fucked up and the trafficker took his weapon was no one’s fault. Bex couldn’t have foreseen that. Neither could Christa.

Bex grabbed Shayla’s arm and leaned in close to her ear. “We have to stop them.”

Shayla nodded without glancing at Bex. Obviously, neither of them had a plan of any sort. But one glance at Bracken told Bex he was working on it. He was poised, his gaze on Bex. He nodded toward the aisle, brows up high. He needed to know how much time he had without looking.

She glanced at the first man, the one who’d just shot a woman in the head. He had a scar running down the left side of his face from the corner of his eye. He was inching closer. Three rows back now. Bex held three fingers out, keeping her hand low.

Bracken nodded.

Raeann crouched down low behind him at his silent instructions.

Adrenaline pumped through Bex. She was both scared out of her mind and calm at the same time. Calmer than she had been during the entire flight. She had no choice.

What if something happened to Bracken? She would never survive if he was injured or worse, killed. She had to trust he knew what he was doing. He had the skills. She had to believe.

The passengers closest to Bex were crying harder now that the hijacker was closer to them.

The man was about six feet tall, built, tattoos up and down his arms. His hair was shaved close to his head. He wore a black T-shirt. His bulging biceps were all the warning Bex needed that it was going to be difficult, if not impossible, to overpower these two guys. The second man had a similar look, an inch or two shorter without the scar.

Fuck. Think.

Bex glanced around again and then held two fingers down for Bracken to see.

He nodded.

When the guy reached the first row, he turned toward Shayla, gun close to her forehead. “You’re the fucking stewardess.”

She nodded, her eyes wide as she leaned back.

“Why are you sitting down? Get me a fucking drink. Whisky.”

She tried to undo her seatbelt, but her fingers were shaking.

The man grabbed her by the hair and tugged hard. “Now, bitch.”

She was crying.

Bex unbuckled her own seatbelt and reached for the man’s hand on the back of Shayla’s hair. “I’ll get it.”

The guy jerked his attention toward Bex, frowning. “Who the fuck are you?”

“I work for the airline too. I know where the drinks are.”

The man reached down and unbuckled Shayla’s belt for her, dragging her off the seat and then yanking her back against his chest. He held his handgun to her head. The semi-automatic was swinging at his shoulder. “Perfect. I’ll hold on to her. You make me a damn drink.”

Bex scrambled from her seat and hurried toward Bracken, who was opening drawers, probably looking for the booze. Scar spun around, pulled Shayla closer, and moved the two of them toward the door on the other side of the galley. “Who the fuck are you?” he shouted at Bracken.

Bracken held his hands up. “Just a passenger. No reason to