Touch of Betrayal, A Read Online Free PDF

out of the chair, I snagged my coffee mug and made for the galley. This whole plan to keep the little woman in the dark was getting old. I required some caffeine, the quicker the better. No time for naps with these macho types controlling the situation. “So, there’s someone less communicative than Pierce. Didn’t think that was possible.”
    He gave me a warm smile that almost took the sting from his words. “I’m adjunct to this op. Not anyone you need to know.”
    “You didn’t shake my hand.” I sounded like an accusing bitch. Not exactly the tone I’d been aiming for, but it fit.
    Damn, but if the nameless man didn’t wink at me. It totally ruined my inner bitch high.
    And to make it worse, he poured three cups of coffee, and handed one to me. “Pierce warned me about the fingers.”
    I stopped cold, brain kicking in, coffee mug halfway to my mouth, and fear knotting in my belly. “You’re here. Who’s flying the plane?”
      He jerked his head toward the cockpit. “The other pilot.”
    I sucked down a couple mouthfuls of coffee that I hoped were heavy on the caffeine. It needed cinnamon, but this was a beggars-slash-choosers situation. “There wasn’t anyone in the cockpit but you and Pierce.”
    The I-shall-remain-nameless pilot didn’t respond.
    I tried again. “Pierce can pilot this flying penthouse?”
    Nameless shrugged. “It’s his plane until we land in Honolulu.”
    The shock jarred me. Where the hell did he get the money to procure an airplane? Even if it was a rental? They went for thousands an hour. He had to be a billionaire. I ran Nameless’s words through my mind, testing them—for what, I didn’t know. Pierce’s plane until we landed. And I guess that said it all. Pierce wasn’t the kind of guy to own or even rent something he couldn’t control.
    Nameless slipped back into the cockpit, and the distinctive snick of a lock clicking into place echoed in the galley.

 
    FOUR
     
    I stood in the empty galley, knowing exactly how disoriented Alice felt when she woke up in Wonderland. Only this wasn’t Wonderland, but rather the well-appointed kitchen on a private jet that held the faint scent of marinara sauce—tomato, oregano and basil. Good stuff. My stomach rumbled, and it was not a good time to be thinking about food.
    If Pierce and the nameless pilot were going to keep me locked out of the cockpit, I’d just have to touch everything in sight and…wait. Hadn’t Pierce tossed my handbag over his shoulder when he kidnapped me?
    I jogged into the main section of the cabin, and began checking the nooks and cubbies for any sign of my brown leather messenger bag. My iPad was in it, so I could try emailing Mitch in case the text from my phone didn’t get through—but more importantly my lock picks were there, too. And since Pierce taught me to use them, well, why not on the door to the cockpit? The irony of it stretched my lips into what felt like a hard-edged smile. Not a sensation I was comfortable with, so I rubbed my lips together to soften them up, ’cause seriously, I wasn’t a hard-edged kind of woman. Although that could change if I found myself in too many kidnapping situations.
    Yep, my bag was tucked behind the chair he’d dumped me in. I snagged the shoulder strap and rummaged through my stuff until my hand closed over the slick fabric pouch. Danger. It was a warning that shot along my nerves, making my fingers twitch. Using the picks would get me into all sorts of trouble, I just knew it. But it was thousands of miles to Hawaii, and no way was I gonna sit and stew for ten hours. Or maybe less, since our nameless pilot didn’t have to stop for layovers or plane changes. And hadn’t I read someplace that these private jets flew high and fast?
    I pocketed the lock picks, pulled out my iPad and typed a quick message for Mitch, then queued it for sending. Hopefully, he would get one of my messages before he wandered into our empty home and panicked. I blinked a few