On Wings Of Deliverance. Elizabeth White

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      Benny had never been bothered by heights. Still, taking off while under fire was unnerving. And then there was the pilot….

      Though reassured by his firm grasp of the control column, she found herself shaken by the way he looked at her. Those eyes, an unearthly gold-shot turquoise, always stuttered her brain.

      Owen was a crack Border Patrol helicopter pilot. And she’d always been able to depend on him to help out at the orphanage back in Acuña. But how to explain what had sent her on this precipitate and dangerous exit from the village of Agrexco?

      “Bernadette—” Owen’s eyes narrowed as he turned his attention back to the control panel “—the FBI does not kill missionaries. And who’s the ‘she’ that said they were after you?”

      She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure who that guy was, but he wasn’t FBI. I got an e-mail last night from an old friend saying that three of my oldest friends have died. I have to go back for—for the funerals.”

      “That’s not the whole story, is it?”

      Benny flinched at the hurt in his eyes. “Owen, I can’t tell you everything. It’s just too dangerous.”

      “More dangerous than some guy firing a submachine gun at us?”

      He had a right to be indignant, but she couldn’t formulate an answer that made sense. So she clamped her lips together and looked out the window. The bay underneath was blue and serene, and puffy clouds drifted past like a dream. How ironic.

      Naturally, Owen wouldn’t leave it alone. “What about the three friends dying all at once? How did that happen? Some kind of accident?”

      “The e-mail wasn’t very specific.”

      His mouth tightened. “Well, that’s just great, Benny. People spill their guts to you all day long, but you never walk back across the bridge.”

      “What are you talking about?”

      “I know exactly why you left Acuña to come all the way down to the Yucatán. You were afraid I was getting too close to you. Which is also why you’ve ignored me this whole week.”

      “I didn’t ignore you! I was busy!” Benny clenched her hands. “We’ve had doctors and nurses and dentists needing translators and—”

      “And I wanted to help, but you wouldn’t let me. ‘Go play with the children, Owen. Take this load of supplies over to the camp, Owen. I don’t have time to talk right now….’” He repeated her words with dead-on mimicry. “My Spanish may not be as good as yours, but trust me, I got the subtext.”

      Benny looked away. Owen was a distraction, and it wasn’t just those eyes or the deep set of dimples that accompanied his ready grin. He could walk into a room and she’d find herself tuned like a metal fork against a table. Maybe she couldn’t block out that attraction, but she was determined to keep herself committed to her mission.

      “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” It had never occurred to her that he would notice the absence of one person’s adulation. Everybody loved Owen—her supervisors, the children who ran around the village, the visiting medical personnel. Kyle Garrett idolized him. “Anyway, I know you can speak Spanish. That’s why you’re so useful entertaining the kids while they’re waiting to be treated.” She risked another look at him and found him frowning at the instrument panel. “What’s the matter?”

      “Uh, we may have a slight problem.”

      “What do you mean?”

      Jaw shifting, he flipped a switch or two. There wasn’t a dimple in sight. “Either the fuel gauge is out of commission or both tanks are leaking. Neither’s a particularly good scenario.”

      “You think bullets hit the fuel tanks?”

      “Don’t know. Hold on, let me see who I can get on the radio. Mayday! Mayday! Broncobuster to control tower…”

      Benny sat still as his attention focused on the instrument panel and his headset. He was a skilled pilot with thousands of flight hours under his belt, and she could trust him with her life. The Cessna didn’t seem to be losing altitude, but what did she know?

      Looked like she’d dodged out of one dangerous situation right into another—worse than the guy in the dark suit and tie who’d shown up at the clinic yesterday afternoon. Flashing a badge, he’d asked if he could have a few minutes of her time.

      Surrounded by screaming babies, worried mothers and fishermen with rotten teeth, she’d nearly booted him out without apology. But when he’d asked if she knew Celine Andrews, she’d handed the baby in her arms to Stacy Garrett and stepped outside.

      How could anybody have connected her to a woman she hadn’t seen since she was fifteen years old—and traced her all the way to the Yucatán?

      Lord, it’s me again. Please help me know what to tell Owen—and give him wisdom and skill to handle this problem with the plane.

      She made the mistake of looking out the side window. They had begun to yaw downward and to the right. Nothing but blue ocean below. Her stomach surged. “Owen!”

      “Hold on. The radio’s messed up. Must’ve got hit.”

      “We’re dropping!”

      “We should have enough fuel to clear the Gulf.” Owen winked at her. “Unless you’ve got your heart set on going for a little swim.” He laughed at her expression. “There’s a wide-open field a couple of miles inland, north of Veracruz. That’s where I’m headed.”

      “Can’t we land at an airport?”

      “Too far away. Hang on.”

      The plane began to buck like a mustang. Owen’s full attention returned to the controls. His jaw tightened as he operated the rudder pedals and control column.

      Benny’s teeth СКАЧАТЬ