The Diamond Dragon (Kip Keene Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

Strike had immediately contacted the local airfield—where Ben’s private jet sat unused in its owner hanger bay—and scheduled a same-day flight to the middle of rural Iowa.
    The jet’s overhead lights flickered, and the cabin rattled slightly.
    The pilot’s voice came on. “Just some mild turbulence, folks. Nothing to worry about.”
    “Says the guy who probably has a parachute,” Strike said.
    “You don’t like planes, huh?”
    “It isn’t the plane,” Strike said. “Just the whole thing. You get an update from the kid about that weird voicemail?”
    Keene shook his head. He dialed Linus’ number again, but the phone’s rings were interlaced with sharp bursts of static. Then the line went dead. Keene took the phone away from his ear and stared at the blank screen.
    “It died.” A gnawing anxiety rose in his chest. “We’re on our own.”
    The overhead lights snapped off. The plane began to pick up speed, and Keene sensed it was headed downwards with a distinctly steep trajectory. The screaming engines drowned out any other noise.
    Keene saw Strike’s lips moving, but he couldn’t hear her as the plane dove towards the ground, both of them helpless to stop its rapid descent.
     
     
    The plane didn’t crash, but it did bounce along the green fields on its belly, screeching to a jarring halt after demolishing half of the crops. Keene was thrown against his seat belt, which held him tight enough to almost cut him in half.
    He heard Strike curse, in between stifled sobs.
    “You all right?”
    “Jesus Christ, this hurts,” Strike said. “Just what I needed.”
    Keene heard a buckle click loose. He saw his partner flop to the floor in a heap. He undid his own restraint, his waist ginger to the touch, and knelt down next to her.
    Strike was sucking in air, her front teeth digging into the bottom of her lip.
    “I’ll check on the pilot,” Keene said. He tried to turn on his phone, but the device refused to power up. No idea about their bearings, other than this field wasn’t quite the destination. Keene made his way towards the cockpit and knocked on the door.
    No answer.
    “Hello?” He pushed lightly against the plastic and the door swung open, its hinges loosened by the impact.
    The pilot was huddled over the controls, his head slumped against the blinking lights. The instruments were going haywire, dials and gauges spinning out of control. A faint trail of blood trickled from his temple. Keene felt for a pulse, but found nothing.
    They were grounded here, at least for the time being.
    He glanced out the cracked windshield. No sign of fire or smoke. That was a silver lining, at least. Keene made his way through the darkened hallway and returned to the cabin. Strike was propped up against the wall, clutching her stomach.
    “Should’ve done more physical therapy,” she said.
    “Who figured I’d be the one in shape?”
    “Who said you were in shape?”
    “Come here,” Keene said, and placed his arms around her torso. “This is gonna hurt.”
    “What—what the hell—no!”
    Keene felt her short fingernails dig into neck as he flipped her over his shoulder. Not too bad. The squirming made the job a little unwieldy, but all that effort in the gym was already coming in handy. Maybe she could walk in half an hour.
    For now, though, they needed to get off the jet. No smoke didn’t mean something wasn’t catastrophically wrong. The pilot had managed to land the craft belly-up, but planes didn’t just drop out of the sky for no reason.
    “Put me down.”
    Keene gripped her tighter as his only answer. Then he slowly walked towards the exit door, trying to keep things steady. He leaned against the doorframe to prop himself up, then hit the handle.
    Stuck, warped by the landing.
    Keene reared back and unleashed a sharp kick at the door. The lever broke off and the door popped open. A gust of wind rushed into the stale cabin, bringing the scent of dirt and crushed plants inside.
    Keene leaned out