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The thing about jumping out of planes was, sooner or later you landed. And it hurt. Bridget Caseman was considering this.
“You’re making this harder on yourself.” Her captor, Jerk #1 as she had fondly named him, jabbed her in the ribs with the muzzle of his machine gun. That hurt, too, but not half as bad as her landing was going to.
The Brazilian jungle flew by in dark green shades below. She was going to land on those trees. She’d die. And even if the fall didn’t kill her – which it definitely would – the wild animals would eat her alive. Vampire bats and jaguars and man-eating ants would be stuffing their faces today. The thought of ants stuffing their faces made Bridget smile.
“Bridget?”
Oh. Right. Bridget turned her head, her fleeting moment of amusement gone. There he was. The man who was making her jump out of this plane and to her death.
“You know,” Bridget said, forcing her voice to remain steady, “You killed my parents a long time ago. I don’t remember it.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” Wesley Martin was so thin he looked like a scarecrow. The two big bodyguards always on either side of him didn’t help. His stern brown eyes gazed at Bridget. “This is really very unfortunate, that you would have to go like this. But if you refuse to tell me what I want to know then I’m afraid I have no choice.”
That was the only reason Jerk #1 hadn’t kicked her out of the plane already. The only reason Bridget had been kept alive for the harsh, multi-thousand mile trip from home sweet home Alabama to the jungles of Brazil.
“I’m not going to tell you.” Bridget’s voice faltered.
Wesley smiled. “I think you will.”
“All my family is dead, Wesley. Thanks to you, I have nothing left to lose.” Bridget held up her arm, displaying the fresh, ugly scars over it. “You’ve already tortured me.”
Wesley grimaced. “I didn’t want to do it.”
“But you did.” Bridget faced the open plane door again. She’d have to jump, sooner or later, but she was so scared. Her heart was pounding and her palms were sweating.
“God, please don’t let me die. I know you don’t want him to know what I know. Please help me.” She closed her eyes, barely even thinking the prayer, afraid Wesley would take that last bit of comfort from her. If only she had wings. If she were an angel, she could fly away. She wouldn’t be in this mess. She would have stopped Wesley from killing her parents, three years old or not, and she wouldn’t have to hide this terrible secret.
“Very well.” Wesley shrugged his shoulders. “Push her.”
Bridget didn’t even have time to protest, to cry out. Jerk #1 shoved her hard between her shoulder blades, and she tumbled through midair, screaming at the top of her lungs.
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