Bahama Mama by Tricia Leedom

Author:Tricia Leedom [Leedom, Tricia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-943858-12-5
Publisher: Firefly Hill Press, LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Flying shotgun on a bumpy, four-seat propeller plane was not on Molly’s bucket list, but she’d always wanted to visit Jamaica. Just not under these circumstances when her daughter was in danger. To make this twisted nightmare even more surreal, Molly was sitting in the passenger seat of the cockpit beside Anders Ostergaard who was flying the pea-size aircraft.

This had to be some kind of divine punishment for not attending church regularly since she was sixteen or for all of those illicit daydreams she’d had about the man beside her. The saying “be careful what you wish for” never rang so true.

Obie sat behind his father reading a comic book. The plush bucket seats and high-curved ceiling made the interior feel roomier than it actually was, but the width from door to door was narrower than her Kia Rio. She could’ve reached out and touched the pilot’s door if she wanted to. She’d always been a confident flyer, but that was because she’d always sat in coach, sipping overpriced Bloody Marys and listening to her iPod, completely oblivious to what was happening inside the cockpit.

Every time Anders moved his hand to fiddle with the knobs and switches on the control panel, he bumped her arm. It couldn’t be helped, but the inadvertent contact made her nerve endings crackle. She tried to put sensation out of her mind. Tried to forget about the dull headache that was a constant reminder of the night of dissipation they’d shared. Tried to ignore the heady cologne that kept wafting toward her and the rich timbre of his voice in the headset as he rattled off numbers and such to ground control. He sounded like a professional pilot and it was sexy as hell.

They hit turbulence not long after take-off—a pop-up storm with high winds. All the while, Anders remained as loose as a goose. Nothing fazed him and that quiet confidence, real or not, reassured Molly better than any empty promises he could have made.

Now that they’d left the storm behind, Molly sat staring out the window at the wispy clouds streaming past and the blue sky beyond. There was nothing but turquoise Caribbean Sea beneath them, but she didn’t want to think about being out over the water in a tiny aircraft with no land in sight so she focused on Cheyenne.

It should’ve taken her less than two hours to reach the Montego Bay airport, but she never called Molly to say she’d made it. When a third hour had passed, Molly had a minor meltdown because she knew something had gone terribly wrong. They’d been at the Key West airport getting ready to board the plane. Anders suggested she call Mitch Thompson, who’d offered to help in any way that he could.

Mitch had a contact in Jamaica—someone reliable who knew how to find things—and he assured them that a young, Caucasian American girl traveling alone wouldn’t be that difficult to locate. Sabato Banton had a network of discrete associates throughout the island who would contact them the moment Cheyenne was spotted.

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