Shielding Gillian (Delta Team Two #1) - Susan Stoker Page 0,1

woman.” When everyone remained frozen in fear, he scowled and, without further hesitation, turned to the man sitting in the aisle seat in the bulkhead row and shot him in the head.

The man fell over, and there were more screams and shouts of terror from her fellow passengers.

Gillian knew she was in shock. She couldn’t make a sound. Couldn’t do anything more than stare wide-eyed at what was happening right in front of her.

“I said, get your passports out…now!” the hijacker yelled in both Spanish and English.

The young couple next to her leaned over and immediately began to rummage through their bags, and Gillian did the same. She held out the small blue book as the woman selected to collect them walked down the aisle. Her hand shook as she passed it over, and for just a second, she caught the other woman’s gaze. She looked absolutely terrified.

In all the confusion and panic amongst the passengers, Gillian hadn’t thought much about what the hijacker had said previously—but now she did. They were going to Venezuela. She wasn’t really up on current events, but even she knew the country was in serious turmoil at the moment. And the guy had said he was with a group, “cartel” something or other.

That usually meant drugs.

Too scared to take her eyes off the hijacker, Gillian felt herself breathing fast. This was really happening. The men who’d taken over the plane had already hurt people. Killed someone.

She felt the plane take a hard right, and ridiculously, she put out her hand to brace herself. It wasn’t as if she was going to fall out the window or something.

Either the pilots were in on the plot to take over the plane, or the hijackers had gotten to them—they really were turning around and heading back toward South America.

She briefly thought about pulling out her cell phone to see if it would work, but Gillian had no idea who she could call. Nine-one-one? No, that wasn’t an option. Her friends? What would they be able to do?

“Women in the front, men in the back!” a new voice demanded from behind her.

Gillian turned to look and saw the other hijackers were separating the passengers. The woman next to her whimpered, and her husband whispered something, obviously trying to calm and reassure her.

The man’s arm was wrenched upward by one of the hijackers as he was shoved toward the back of the plane. Gillian stood immediately and let herself be pushed forward. She stumbled into the first-class cabin—and froze at the carnage around her.

Almost all of the men and women had been killed. Sometime in the general chaos, perhaps while the passports were being collected, their throats had been slit.

She saw three flight attendants lying motionless as well.

She had one second to be thankful the plane wasn’t full before her arm was grabbed in a bruising hold. Looking up in panic, Gillian stared into the stone-cold brown eyes of the hijacker who’d so calmly shot the man in the bulkhead row.

“You. You will be our spokesperson with the authorities,” he declared.

Gillian shook her head, but no words would come out. She didn’t want anything to do with this. She wanted to huddle in a corner and be invisible.

The man leaned into her, and his body odor assaulted Gillian’s senses. He smelled like sweat and onions, and she forced herself not to gag. “You have two choices,” he said calmly. “Be our spokesperson or die.” Then he let go of her arm and stood back. He lifted his rifle and placed the barrel against her forehead. It was hot and felt like it was burning a hole right into her skull.

Swallowing hard, Gillian whispered, “I’d be happy to talk to whoever you want.”

His lips quirked upward in an evil, satisfied smile as he lowered his weapon. “I thought you might.” Then he grabbed her arm again and shoved his way between terrified women and children and hauled her to the area reserved for flight attendants, where the crew prepared food and drinks for the passengers.

He pushed her down, and Gillian gladly scooted until her back was against the side of the plane. “Might as well get comfortable, we’ve got a bit of time before we get to Caracas,” the hijacker told her.

Gillian closed her eyes—but she couldn’t block out the sounds. Women crying, the hijackers threatening passengers, the occasional terrifying shot from one of the guns.

People were dying all around her…and Gillian was utterly helpless. She hated the feeling. But