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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Wrecked
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, just keeping them alive.
The day had started out so well. But good things only lasted for so long, especially for him. And how rapidly things had disintegrated too. One moment, he was packing his bags, reminiscing on yet another good deed done, and then the next, his door was being kicked down by a hot-headed brunette with everything to prove.
“Hello Jarod,” Miss Parker purred from behind the tight grip of her firearm.
Despite the obvious danger he was in, Jarod found himself smirking as his eyes flickered over the tall woman and the three men standing behind her.
“Greetings all,” he responded smoothly.
Quite the crew she had. A spooked technician who looked as if he was going to wet himself at anytime, a quiet psychiatrist who always appeared like he knew more than what he was letting on, and a sweeper who seemed like he’d be more comfortable driving a mini van and taking the kids to soccer practice.
“Nice of you to drop in,” he added.
It had been one of his most enjoyable pretends to date, regardless of its rather abrupt and unpleasant end. He was investigating the questionable accident of a charter plane that resulted in the death of the pilot and five passengers. It turned out it hadn’t been an accident at all, someone had sabotaged the aircraft, and Jarod saw to it that the culprit got what was coming to him and those six lost lives were given the justice they deserved. But, it hadn’t been the pretend itself that had been so satisfying; it was the location. Posing as a private pilot himself, Jarod was able to fly over the vast ocean, carrying passengers back and forth to the islands. It was beautiful and far from the clutches of the Centre, which made him seriously wonder how they had even found him on such an exclusive island.
“Time to come home, Jarod,” the brunette said.
Defiantly, he shook his head and took a small step back from his leather bag on the bed. “The Centre is not my home.”
Her blue eyes watched his every move like a hawk with scope vision, the lean muscles in her arms and legs tightening instinctively. “Stay where you are,” Miss Parker instructed firmly. Without looking away from the pretender, she addressed the sweeper. “Sam, cuff him.”
“My pleasure,” was his mumbled reply as he moved out from behind her.
Jarod watched as the suited man advanced toward him calmly, despite the fact that his heart was beating hard against the walls of his chest. As soon as the other man was within reach, Jarod sprung without warning. He nailed him with a right hook, sending the heavier man toppling backwards and into the trio behind him.
Taking full advantage of the moment, Jarod spun and went for the window. He had the screen kicked out and he was leaning out of it when he heard Miss Parker screaming for him to stop. Fat chance in hell, he thought, as he took a breath and pushed himself out, sailing down the two stories to the grass below. He hit the ground and rolled, then sprang to his feet and sprinted with all his might toward the water’s edge. Anchored in the waves, the small, red plane waited for him, his ticket out.
“Jarod!” he heard behind him. “Stop!”
He sloshed through the water and stepped up onto one of the floaters, his hand reaching for the door. Just as his fingers crazed the handle … CLANK! Ducking, he shot his pursuers an accusing look, realizing with dread that both brunette and sweeper were shooting at him.
“Jarod, I said stop!” she screamed.
“Clearly,” Jarod mumbled to himself, before popping open the door and hauling himself in.
Quickly, he started the plane, going through the line of switches to get the thing airborne. He watched through the front window as Miss Parker and her team hesitated at the water’s edge, shielding themselves from the onslaught of wind the front propellers made.
Jarod smirked at the furious look on his huntress’s face, a look he was all too familiar with. With expert ease, he directed the plane around, but just as he was about to begin take off, he felt the old plane shudder from an extra weight, and turned his head just in time to see the cabin door pop open. In poked the head of Sam, quickly followed by his black handgun.
“Jarod, get out!” he shouted.
Without thinking, Jarod leaned back and kicked him, sending the man hurdling out and into the water with a mighty splash. Just as Jarod reached out to close the door, the window exploded into shards and he ducked instinctively.
“Parker, don’t!” he heard Sydney cry. “You’ll hit him!”
But, the mentor’s protests had no effect on the woman for three more shots followed, the bullets ricocheting through the plane’s cabin. One implanted itself in the control panel, erupting a spray of sparks and a surprised shout from Jarod.
“Get out, Jarod!” Parker yelled again.
Jarod turned his head away from the crackling controls to the sweeper and brunette who both had their weapons firmly pointed at him. He swallowed, his heart sinking when he realized his escape had just gone up in smoke—literally.
“Out!” Parker screamed.
“Alright, alright,” Jarod said, throwing up his hands.
Slowly, he eased himself out of the plane and down into the thigh-deep water, then turned and made his way toward Parker, Sydney and Broots who waited for him on the shore. Once he reached them, he watched the gleam of satisfaction reflect in Parker’s eyes, the spark of triumph. Jarod, on the other hand, was feeling a little less enthusiastic, although he was certain that he would find a way to escape. They were on an island, and the only way off was by plane. He would find a way.
Sam moved up behind him, his gun planted firmly in the middle of Jarod’s back.
“You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble if you had just cooperated with us, Jarod,” Miss Parker said, the lines of her mouth perking.
“And what—skip this fun? Never.”
“Well, we can make this as painless as possible if you just behave.” She lifted up her other hand and handcuffs dangled from her finger. Jarod eyed them wearily, before he moved his gaze back up to her face. “Turn around,” she instructed.
Jarod narrowed his eyes for a moment, but finally heeded to her command and turned to face the sweeper. He felt her move, felt the cool graze of metal on his wrists, but before she could snap them shut, he swung his arms around and brought up his knee at the same time. The sweeper went down like a sack of sand, clutching his groin and groaning like a dying man. Jarod darted off to the side and tried to steer around the arms that were reaching for him, but the grip was stronger than expected. He stumbled into them, lifting his head to stare at Sydney appallingly, before he desperately tried to rip away from him.
“Let go, Sydney!” Jarod growled.
Another pair of hands grabbed him and he felt her breath on his neck, smelled her perfume.
“Broots!” she shouted. “Don’t just stand there, you idiot!”
The tech looked on helplessly as the three struggled. Just as he summoned enough courage to step in, the pretender managed to pry himself out of their grips and turned to bolt, unaware that Broots was right in his way. Both fell to the sand with a loud “Oof,” successfully knowing the air out of both of them. Just as Jarod recovered enough to get up, he was hit from behind with the butt of a gun, and with a groan, slumped forward onto Broots’s still sprawled form.
Broots paled under the weight and looked up wide-eyed at the three that stood over him. Miss Parker looked amused, Sam looked victorious, but Sydney looked furious and was shooting daggers at the sweeper.
“You could have seriously hurt him,” the older man griped.
Sam looked at the doctor while he tucked his gun back into its holster. “He’ll live.”
“Um … help me,” Broots mumbled, trying to shift under the pretender’s weight.
Sam bent down and pulled the unconscious pretender off the immobilized technician, who gave a breath of relief after being freed from such an awkward position. As Broots straightened to his feet, he caught the look on Miss Parker’s face—a smile of all teeth, a glimmer of pleasure in her eyes—and he shifted uncomfortably.
“Nice job, Broots,” she said. “There’s an use for you after all.”
Broots cleared his throat. “J-just doing my job.”
------
Jarod lifted his head with a groan, succumbing to the conscious world with a huge headache and humming in his ears. As he blinked his eyes open, he realized that the humming wasn’t just him, but the aircraft that he was in, the one that was carrying him over the South Pacific and back to the main land. He wasn’t sure how long they had been flying, but by a quick look at Miss Parker who sat across from him, he would have guessed not long. Her cigarette was still long and she still had that cat-just-ate-the-canary look.
She must have sensed him watching her, for she looked over and met his eyes. “Welcome back to the living, Jarod.”
Jarod flexed his hands that were handcuffed to the arms of his seat. “Quite the welcome.”
Parker grinned. Beside her, Sydney had been reading a book, but looked up when Parker had spoken.
“Jarod,” Sydney acknowledged. “How is your head?”
Jarod gazed at the man, feeling a coiled anger toward him, feeling betrayed. Slowly, Jarod turned his head away and aimed his gaze back out the window. “Intact,” was his short reply.
The door to the small bathroom popped open and out walked Broots, looking a little worn. As he flopped down in the seat a few down from where Jarod sat, the psychiatrist gave him a curious look.
“Are you alright, Broots?”
“Fine,” Broots sighed, shaking his head. “Just feeling a little air sick.”
“Maybe we should land at a seven-eleven or something,” Jarod said sardonically, turning his head to look at the tech. “Get you some medicine.”
The moment their eyes met, Broots swallowed and looked away, feeling guilty for his earlier involvement in the capture. Jarod remained staring at his profile, piercing him with his eyes.
“Jarod, I know this is hard for you,” Sydney began.
“Oh, do you now?” Jarod interrupted, turning his eyes on him. He gazed hard at the two faces that sat opposite of him, searching their expressions. Finally, he willed himself to ask the question that had been bothering him. “How did you find me anyway?”
Parker smiled and blew a puff of smoke in his direction. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“How?” Jarod demanded.
“Let’s just say,” she began, “You pissed off the wrong people this time.”
Jarod gazed at her, digesting her words. After a moment, his eyes narrowed. “William Radloft, the man that caused the accident, he was with the Centre, wasn’t he?”
Parker smiled, giving him the only answer he needed.
Jarod inhaled slowly and leaned back against the seat. “I kind of sensed it. There had been a passenger on the plane that had old ties to my family.”
“Radloft was kind enough to give us a call before you did him in.”
“Kind enough,” Jarod repeated with a snort. He shook his head and looked out the window for a moment. “The man killed six people. The passenger on that plane might have held a key to my past.”
“It sucks, doesn’t it?” Parker sneered.
Jarod shot her a look, but before he could say something, the aircraft gave a rough shudder and they all looked around, alarmed. A few moments later, Sam poked his head out of the pilot cabin, a look of worry shadowing in his eyes.
“We seem to be having some malfunctioning in the gears,” he informed them. “The pilot said he might have to crash land.”
“Crash land?” Parker repeated with upraised eyebrows. She shot the window a look, at the vast openness of the ocean. “Where?”
Saying nothing more, Sam disappeared back into the cabin, leaving the four of them to exchange looks.
“I … I … really don’t like the crash part of that statement,” Broots mumbled unnecessarily.
Parker turned her eyes on Jarod, her blue eyes smoldering. “Did you have a part in this?”
“Of course not,” Jarod shot back. “I would never intentionally strand us out in the Pacific.”
“Strand?” Broots repeated. “I don’t like that part either.”
“Well, what the hell is going on?” Parker demanded.
“I don’t know.” Jarod looked around the small interior, before returning his eyes back to the brunette. “It’s a small plane. It looks old. It might have had too many flights.”
“Shit,” Parker cursed, stubbing out her cigarette. The plane shuddered again and she reflexively grabbed the armrests. “Last time I get talked out of taking the Centre jet.”
“Why didn’t you?” Jarod barked as the plane sputtered again.
“It was in the hanger!” she snarled.
Violently, the plane jerked again and Broots groaned as a wave of nausea wafted over him. He leaned forward in his seat, staring at his shoes. “Oh God,” he said. “Oh man.”
“Parker, if you uncuff me, maybe I can do something,” Jarod said, looking at her with desperation.
She was already shaking her head. “No, Jarod.”
“Maybe he’s right, Parker,” Sydney spoke up, shooting the woman beside him a look as he too gripped the armrests.
“Shit!” Parker cursed again, undoing her seat long enough to lean forward and uncuff him. As soon as he was free, Jarod undid his seatbelt and stood. Parker sat back in her seat, but froze when she heard someone whisper in her ear. It was static at first, but the message was certainly clear.
Her breath hitched and her arm shot out just as he passed her, gripping him by the wrist. He looked down at her in surprise.
“No,” she said firmly.
“What?”
“Sit down. Get your seatbelt back on.”
The plane rocked and Jarod stumbled against the wall, Parker’s hand still on his wrist. “Parker, I might be able to fix it.”
“Sit down!” Parker shouted, nearly frantic. “The pilot will do it.”
“Parker—”
In a blink of an eye, she whipped out her gun and aimed it at his chest. Jarod flinched in surprise and stared at her as desperation filtered in her eyes. “Get in your seat! Now!”
Jarod swallowed and slowly turned away, moving back to his seat. He lowered himself into the cushions and fastened his belt, all the while keeping his eyes on the brunette.
“Um, guys,” Broots spoke up, breathless. He looked away from the window, his face paling. “We are going down!”
All three turned to see what the tech was talking about, watching as the ocean water became closer. Jarod turned his head and met Parker’s eyes for the briefest of moments, before the nose of the plane pierced through the water like a knife through butter. A roar of chaos erupted and they were all jerked forward, Broots and Jarod yanked against their seatbelts, Parker and Sydney thrown against the wall behind their seats.
Jarod could only remember a blur of movement, the cabin doors crumbling before his eyes, before everything went black.
------
Grabbed your attenion? I hope so!
Disclaimer: Don’t own them, just keeping them alive.
The day had started out so well. But good things only lasted for so long, especially for him. And how rapidly things had disintegrated too. One moment, he was packing his bags, reminiscing on yet another good deed done, and then the next, his door was being kicked down by a hot-headed brunette with everything to prove.
“Hello Jarod,” Miss Parker purred from behind the tight grip of her firearm.
Despite the obvious danger he was in, Jarod found himself smirking as his eyes flickered over the tall woman and the three men standing behind her.
“Greetings all,” he responded smoothly.
Quite the crew she had. A spooked technician who looked as if he was going to wet himself at anytime, a quiet psychiatrist who always appeared like he knew more than what he was letting on, and a sweeper who seemed like he’d be more comfortable driving a mini van and taking the kids to soccer practice.
“Nice of you to drop in,” he added.
It had been one of his most enjoyable pretends to date, regardless of its rather abrupt and unpleasant end. He was investigating the questionable accident of a charter plane that resulted in the death of the pilot and five passengers. It turned out it hadn’t been an accident at all, someone had sabotaged the aircraft, and Jarod saw to it that the culprit got what was coming to him and those six lost lives were given the justice they deserved. But, it hadn’t been the pretend itself that had been so satisfying; it was the location. Posing as a private pilot himself, Jarod was able to fly over the vast ocean, carrying passengers back and forth to the islands. It was beautiful and far from the clutches of the Centre, which made him seriously wonder how they had even found him on such an exclusive island.
“Time to come home, Jarod,” the brunette said.
Defiantly, he shook his head and took a small step back from his leather bag on the bed. “The Centre is not my home.”
Her blue eyes watched his every move like a hawk with scope vision, the lean muscles in her arms and legs tightening instinctively. “Stay where you are,” Miss Parker instructed firmly. Without looking away from the pretender, she addressed the sweeper. “Sam, cuff him.”
“My pleasure,” was his mumbled reply as he moved out from behind her.
Jarod watched as the suited man advanced toward him calmly, despite the fact that his heart was beating hard against the walls of his chest. As soon as the other man was within reach, Jarod sprung without warning. He nailed him with a right hook, sending the heavier man toppling backwards and into the trio behind him.
Taking full advantage of the moment, Jarod spun and went for the window. He had the screen kicked out and he was leaning out of it when he heard Miss Parker screaming for him to stop. Fat chance in hell, he thought, as he took a breath and pushed himself out, sailing down the two stories to the grass below. He hit the ground and rolled, then sprang to his feet and sprinted with all his might toward the water’s edge. Anchored in the waves, the small, red plane waited for him, his ticket out.
“Jarod!” he heard behind him. “Stop!”
He sloshed through the water and stepped up onto one of the floaters, his hand reaching for the door. Just as his fingers crazed the handle … CLANK! Ducking, he shot his pursuers an accusing look, realizing with dread that both brunette and sweeper were shooting at him.
“Jarod, I said stop!” she screamed.
“Clearly,” Jarod mumbled to himself, before popping open the door and hauling himself in.
Quickly, he started the plane, going through the line of switches to get the thing airborne. He watched through the front window as Miss Parker and her team hesitated at the water’s edge, shielding themselves from the onslaught of wind the front propellers made.
Jarod smirked at the furious look on his huntress’s face, a look he was all too familiar with. With expert ease, he directed the plane around, but just as he was about to begin take off, he felt the old plane shudder from an extra weight, and turned his head just in time to see the cabin door pop open. In poked the head of Sam, quickly followed by his black handgun.
“Jarod, get out!” he shouted.
Without thinking, Jarod leaned back and kicked him, sending the man hurdling out and into the water with a mighty splash. Just as Jarod reached out to close the door, the window exploded into shards and he ducked instinctively.
“Parker, don’t!” he heard Sydney cry. “You’ll hit him!”
But, the mentor’s protests had no effect on the woman for three more shots followed, the bullets ricocheting through the plane’s cabin. One implanted itself in the control panel, erupting a spray of sparks and a surprised shout from Jarod.
“Get out, Jarod!” Parker yelled again.
Jarod turned his head away from the crackling controls to the sweeper and brunette who both had their weapons firmly pointed at him. He swallowed, his heart sinking when he realized his escape had just gone up in smoke—literally.
“Out!” Parker screamed.
“Alright, alright,” Jarod said, throwing up his hands.
Slowly, he eased himself out of the plane and down into the thigh-deep water, then turned and made his way toward Parker, Sydney and Broots who waited for him on the shore. Once he reached them, he watched the gleam of satisfaction reflect in Parker’s eyes, the spark of triumph. Jarod, on the other hand, was feeling a little less enthusiastic, although he was certain that he would find a way to escape. They were on an island, and the only way off was by plane. He would find a way.
Sam moved up behind him, his gun planted firmly in the middle of Jarod’s back.
“You could have saved yourself a lot of trouble if you had just cooperated with us, Jarod,” Miss Parker said, the lines of her mouth perking.
“And what—skip this fun? Never.”
“Well, we can make this as painless as possible if you just behave.” She lifted up her other hand and handcuffs dangled from her finger. Jarod eyed them wearily, before he moved his gaze back up to her face. “Turn around,” she instructed.
Jarod narrowed his eyes for a moment, but finally heeded to her command and turned to face the sweeper. He felt her move, felt the cool graze of metal on his wrists, but before she could snap them shut, he swung his arms around and brought up his knee at the same time. The sweeper went down like a sack of sand, clutching his groin and groaning like a dying man. Jarod darted off to the side and tried to steer around the arms that were reaching for him, but the grip was stronger than expected. He stumbled into them, lifting his head to stare at Sydney appallingly, before he desperately tried to rip away from him.
“Let go, Sydney!” Jarod growled.
Another pair of hands grabbed him and he felt her breath on his neck, smelled her perfume.
“Broots!” she shouted. “Don’t just stand there, you idiot!”
The tech looked on helplessly as the three struggled. Just as he summoned enough courage to step in, the pretender managed to pry himself out of their grips and turned to bolt, unaware that Broots was right in his way. Both fell to the sand with a loud “Oof,” successfully knowing the air out of both of them. Just as Jarod recovered enough to get up, he was hit from behind with the butt of a gun, and with a groan, slumped forward onto Broots’s still sprawled form.
Broots paled under the weight and looked up wide-eyed at the three that stood over him. Miss Parker looked amused, Sam looked victorious, but Sydney looked furious and was shooting daggers at the sweeper.
“You could have seriously hurt him,” the older man griped.
Sam looked at the doctor while he tucked his gun back into its holster. “He’ll live.”
“Um … help me,” Broots mumbled, trying to shift under the pretender’s weight.
Sam bent down and pulled the unconscious pretender off the immobilized technician, who gave a breath of relief after being freed from such an awkward position. As Broots straightened to his feet, he caught the look on Miss Parker’s face—a smile of all teeth, a glimmer of pleasure in her eyes—and he shifted uncomfortably.
“Nice job, Broots,” she said. “There’s an use for you after all.”
Broots cleared his throat. “J-just doing my job.”
------
Jarod lifted his head with a groan, succumbing to the conscious world with a huge headache and humming in his ears. As he blinked his eyes open, he realized that the humming wasn’t just him, but the aircraft that he was in, the one that was carrying him over the South Pacific and back to the main land. He wasn’t sure how long they had been flying, but by a quick look at Miss Parker who sat across from him, he would have guessed not long. Her cigarette was still long and she still had that cat-just-ate-the-canary look.
She must have sensed him watching her, for she looked over and met his eyes. “Welcome back to the living, Jarod.”
Jarod flexed his hands that were handcuffed to the arms of his seat. “Quite the welcome.”
Parker grinned. Beside her, Sydney had been reading a book, but looked up when Parker had spoken.
“Jarod,” Sydney acknowledged. “How is your head?”
Jarod gazed at the man, feeling a coiled anger toward him, feeling betrayed. Slowly, Jarod turned his head away and aimed his gaze back out the window. “Intact,” was his short reply.
The door to the small bathroom popped open and out walked Broots, looking a little worn. As he flopped down in the seat a few down from where Jarod sat, the psychiatrist gave him a curious look.
“Are you alright, Broots?”
“Fine,” Broots sighed, shaking his head. “Just feeling a little air sick.”
“Maybe we should land at a seven-eleven or something,” Jarod said sardonically, turning his head to look at the tech. “Get you some medicine.”
The moment their eyes met, Broots swallowed and looked away, feeling guilty for his earlier involvement in the capture. Jarod remained staring at his profile, piercing him with his eyes.
“Jarod, I know this is hard for you,” Sydney began.
“Oh, do you now?” Jarod interrupted, turning his eyes on him. He gazed hard at the two faces that sat opposite of him, searching their expressions. Finally, he willed himself to ask the question that had been bothering him. “How did you find me anyway?”
Parker smiled and blew a puff of smoke in his direction. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“How?” Jarod demanded.
“Let’s just say,” she began, “You pissed off the wrong people this time.”
Jarod gazed at her, digesting her words. After a moment, his eyes narrowed. “William Radloft, the man that caused the accident, he was with the Centre, wasn’t he?”
Parker smiled, giving him the only answer he needed.
Jarod inhaled slowly and leaned back against the seat. “I kind of sensed it. There had been a passenger on the plane that had old ties to my family.”
“Radloft was kind enough to give us a call before you did him in.”
“Kind enough,” Jarod repeated with a snort. He shook his head and looked out the window for a moment. “The man killed six people. The passenger on that plane might have held a key to my past.”
“It sucks, doesn’t it?” Parker sneered.
Jarod shot her a look, but before he could say something, the aircraft gave a rough shudder and they all looked around, alarmed. A few moments later, Sam poked his head out of the pilot cabin, a look of worry shadowing in his eyes.
“We seem to be having some malfunctioning in the gears,” he informed them. “The pilot said he might have to crash land.”
“Crash land?” Parker repeated with upraised eyebrows. She shot the window a look, at the vast openness of the ocean. “Where?”
Saying nothing more, Sam disappeared back into the cabin, leaving the four of them to exchange looks.
“I … I … really don’t like the crash part of that statement,” Broots mumbled unnecessarily.
Parker turned her eyes on Jarod, her blue eyes smoldering. “Did you have a part in this?”
“Of course not,” Jarod shot back. “I would never intentionally strand us out in the Pacific.”
“Strand?” Broots repeated. “I don’t like that part either.”
“Well, what the hell is going on?” Parker demanded.
“I don’t know.” Jarod looked around the small interior, before returning his eyes back to the brunette. “It’s a small plane. It looks old. It might have had too many flights.”
“Shit,” Parker cursed, stubbing out her cigarette. The plane shuddered again and she reflexively grabbed the armrests. “Last time I get talked out of taking the Centre jet.”
“Why didn’t you?” Jarod barked as the plane sputtered again.
“It was in the hanger!” she snarled.
Violently, the plane jerked again and Broots groaned as a wave of nausea wafted over him. He leaned forward in his seat, staring at his shoes. “Oh God,” he said. “Oh man.”
“Parker, if you uncuff me, maybe I can do something,” Jarod said, looking at her with desperation.
She was already shaking her head. “No, Jarod.”
“Maybe he’s right, Parker,” Sydney spoke up, shooting the woman beside him a look as he too gripped the armrests.
“Shit!” Parker cursed again, undoing her seat long enough to lean forward and uncuff him. As soon as he was free, Jarod undid his seatbelt and stood. Parker sat back in her seat, but froze when she heard someone whisper in her ear. It was static at first, but the message was certainly clear.
Her breath hitched and her arm shot out just as he passed her, gripping him by the wrist. He looked down at her in surprise.
“No,” she said firmly.
“What?”
“Sit down. Get your seatbelt back on.”
The plane rocked and Jarod stumbled against the wall, Parker’s hand still on his wrist. “Parker, I might be able to fix it.”
“Sit down!” Parker shouted, nearly frantic. “The pilot will do it.”
“Parker—”
In a blink of an eye, she whipped out her gun and aimed it at his chest. Jarod flinched in surprise and stared at her as desperation filtered in her eyes. “Get in your seat! Now!”
Jarod swallowed and slowly turned away, moving back to his seat. He lowered himself into the cushions and fastened his belt, all the while keeping his eyes on the brunette.
“Um, guys,” Broots spoke up, breathless. He looked away from the window, his face paling. “We are going down!”
All three turned to see what the tech was talking about, watching as the ocean water became closer. Jarod turned his head and met Parker’s eyes for the briefest of moments, before the nose of the plane pierced through the water like a knife through butter. A roar of chaos erupted and they were all jerked forward, Broots and Jarod yanked against their seatbelts, Parker and Sydney thrown against the wall behind their seats.
Jarod could only remember a blur of movement, the cabin doors crumbling before his eyes, before everything went black.
------
Grabbed your attenion? I hope so!
