Raven's Prey

At that point I will also take Miss Knight off your hands. You’re probably growing tired of her by now anyway, hmmm?”
    Honor felt a chill race down her spine as she glanced at Judd’s impassive face. But he said nothing, merely pushed himself away from the door. He didn’t look at Honor as he reached around to open it again. “Let’s go. It’s getting late.”
    “Excellent, Raven. I’m in something of a hurry myself.” Prager got to his feet and picked up the suitcase. Then he motioned with the gun. “Come along, Honor. I know you’re an incurable romantic but you’re going to have to accept a few facts of life. One of them is that to someone like Mr. Raven fifty grand is going to speak a lot louder than a toss in the hay. Move.”
    Unwillingly Honor’s gaze dropped to the suitcase in the gunman’s hand. Fifty thousand dollars. She wondered how often in his career Judd had received an offer of that magnitude. Probably seldom. She swallowed awkwardly and then-turned toward the door. Judd stood waiting, his expression as emotionless and unreadable as it had ever been. His gaze slid away from her as he pulled a set of keys out of his pocket.
    “I have a rental car parked at the back of the house,” Nick said calmly as he shepherded the other two outside. “Might as well leave it there since the jeep is handier. You sit in front beside Raven, Honor. I’ll get in the back so that I can keep an eye on both of you.”
    The drive to the deserted airfield was made in taut silence. The whistling of the night wind through the open window was the only sound. When they reached the field Judd parked the jeep near the old hangar. In the moonlight the row of small private planes stood like a pack of night creatures on the tarmac.
    “I’ll have to turn on the runway lights.” Judd was already striding toward the tiny office housed at the entrance of the hangar.
    “All right Follow him, Honor. Stay where I can keep, track of both of you or [_1 _]won’t wait until we reach Mexico before I settle my score with you.” Prager motioned once more with the gun.
    Honor shivered as moonlight glanced along the black metallic barrel of the weapon and then obediently turned to follow Judd. At the entrance to the office she watched in silence as Judd flipped a switch. Out on the runway two long rows of lights blinked into existence.
    “Will the lights attract attention at this time of night?” Prager demanded uneasily.
    Judd shook his head once. “No. If anyone notices he’ll just assume someone’s practicing a little night flying. Happens all the time. Are you ready?”
    “I’m ready. Honor will ride in front with you again, I think. I’ll take the back seat.”
    Judd nodded, saying nothing, and started out to the waiting Cessna. Honor trailed along behind him, terrifyingly aware of the gun pointed at her back. Her fingers were already beginning to tremble, she realized distantly. Nervously she watched Judd go through his preflight check and then Prager was ordering her into the plane.
    Ten minutes later, with Prager still holding his gun and sitting behind Honor, Judd lifted the Cessna off the runway into the night sky over Albuquerque. He shot a glance at Honor’s stark expression and then concentrated on his flying. There was nothing he could say or do to soothe her now. She’d been through a hell of a lot because of that bastard in the back seat and there was more to come before the night was over. One gutsy lady.
    He let the plane climb rapidly, seeking plenty of altitude. The field elevation was a little over five thousand feet which meant he needed a bit above ten. He watched the needle slip past the numbers on the altimeter, seventy-five hundred, eight thousand….
    What was Honor thinking? Was she remembering the sight of all that money in the suitcase and wondering how much fifty thousand would mean to a mercenary who never asked too many questions about the jobs he accepted? Eighty-five hundred feet. Nine thousand.
    She was frightened but she was in control, he realized. Just as she had been in control of her fear that night when he’d found her in the cantina in Mexico. He remembered his own feelings that night as he had stared at her through the smoke of die noisy cantina. After a week of looking he’d finally found the woman in the photograph and the reality was even more intriguing than the image. She’d been scared but defiant and she’d kept her head, trying to bribe him and then, later,