Chapter 5 - The Tarmac AmbushChaos erupted the second I crossed the threshold into first class.
Grant was already standing up, slipping his arms into his charcoal suit jacket, barking orders into his Bluetooth earpiece. Evelyn Bennett was sitting quietly in her seat, her eyes locked on me with a sharp, calculating glint of understanding.
As I reached row three, I didn't hesitate. I leaped up, grabbed the latch of the overhead bin above seat 3A, and swung it wide open.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?!" Grant roared, dropping his phone and lunging forward with terrifying speed.
He grabbed the back of my denim shirt, trying to yank me backward, but years of loading heavy freight crates had built a core of solid muscle beneath my clothes. I pivoted on my heel, using my elbow to catch him squarely in the ribs, sending him crashing backward against the partition.
In that split second, I grabbed Grant’s leather duffel bag, unzipped it, and pulled out a slim, red leather folder.
Claire Bennett.
"Give me that, you rural trash!" Grant screamed, regaining his balance and lunging at me like a cornered animal, his face flushed with unbridled rage. The polished corporate facade was entirely gone, replaced by raw, desperate panic.
"You're carrying stolen property, Grant," I said calmly, tucking the passport folder inside the front of my shirt.
Before Grant could throw a punch, the aircraft touched down on the Charlotte runway with a massive, deafening jolt of reverse thrusters. The sudden deceleration threw Grant off balance, sending him sprawling hard into the aisle, his pristine suit knee-deep in scuff marks.
Sirens and lights outside flashed through the cabin windows as the plane taxied toward Gate B14.
Up ahead, Evelyn Bennett stood up from her seat, stepped into the aisle, and looked down at Grant groaning on the floor.
"Your corporate career is over, Grant," Evelyn said, her voice cutting through the noise of the landing engines like a razor blade. "And so is your freedom."
Grant glared up from the floor, his eyes wild and venomous. "You think you can pin this on me? The board will back me! The auditors—"
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"The auditors finished reviewing the offshore accounts twenty minutes ago, while we were over the Atlantic," Evelyn interrupted coldly, holding up her own tablet screen. "Every single unauthorized transfer you made to your personal accounts in the Caymans has been logged and transmitted to federal authorities. The FBI is waiting at the arrival gate right now."
Grant’s face turned the color of ash. He looked from Evelyn to me, realizing the entire flight had been a floating trap.
