AN: Just because I love y'all, here's the last part! Thanks for favoriting/reviewing this niche story! I really enjoyed writing it and love seeing your feedback :)
"Bye, Benny," I said pointedly as I stood on the steps of the plane.
"I don't like it," he warned.
"Your comment has been noted and logged," I said. "Am I an Abruzzi or not?"
Benny sighed. "John won't like it," he said.
'Very likely," I nodded. "But Daddy doesn't like a lot of things. Now you've got to go." He finally went, grumbling all the way.
"Comfortable, Ms. Donovan?" I asked, looking over my shoulder.
"You can't be more than eighteen," she murmured.
"Close," I said, scanning the darkness. "I'm seventeen."
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
"Plausible deniability, Veronica," I said.
"I thought I was your lawyer."
I laughed. On the far side of the airfield, a car slowed long enough for a figure to hop out, and then sped off again. The figure walked across the ditch and onto the tarmac. It was Ethan. I couldn't stop the big silly grin from crossing my face as he approached.
"Hey," he puffed, jugging up, "I got a friend to drop me off; I hope that's cool. Wow, you look fantastic."
I grabbed his tie and pulled him in for a kiss. "You're not so bad yourself."
He grinned a little goofily. "Well, good, I tried." He straightened his cuffs.
I patted the front of his suit coat. "Take off your jacket and come meet Veronica." Walking into the plush and clean atmosphere of the luxury jet, I breathed in the smell of leather and Lysol. "Veronica, Ethan; Ethan, Veronica," I said, checking the clock.
"Hi?" Ethan said, confused.
"Veronica is my lawyer; you've met her before."
"No, I think I'd –"
"You've met her before," I repeated. "She is our chaperone."
"Ah," he said. "Do we need one?"
"We do if we're going to Mexico."
The pilot and Greg, the muscle, poked their heads in. "Miss Abruzzi, the station guy is starting to get suspicious."
"What did you tell him?" I asked.
"That we were having engine problems," he said.
"Well, break something and ask him to help you fix it, or ask for a part."
"Why?"
"So we don't look so suspicious," I said. "And keep your eye out for a car –I'm expecting pizza."
Ethan perked up. "Pizza?"
"Yup," I said, and shooed the men away. I kicked off my heels and sighed as my feet relaxed in the plush carpet. "Okay, moment of truth –plausible deniability or knowing what's up?" I said to Veronica and Ethan.
"This is insane, and whatever you're planning, you need to stop," she said, looking very fierce.
"One plausible deniability," I said. "I like that phrase. Fine. Ethan?"
"Spill, Oh," he said, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and loosening his tie a little.
"Okay, Veronica, into the bathroom," I said. "Wouldn't want you to have to lie."
She got up, but I stopped her with an outstretched hand. "I'd like your cellphone, please."
"I wasn't going to use it," she said, but handed it over.
I set it on a table. "I'd like to trust you, Vee. I would. But this is kind of important, and I gotta be sure, you know?"
Her mouth tight, Veronica went to the bathroom and shut the door behind her.
"Okay, here's the deal," I told Ethan in a low voice. "In a short amount of time, some men are going to come on this plane. We are going to fly them to Mexico. You and I are the explanation for this plane."
"And one of these men is your Dad?" Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes," I sighed. "I told you it was criminal."
He whistled. "Aiding and abetting," he murmured. "Well, this should be fun. What else?"
"Help me open up the smuggling compartments," I said. I showed him how to pull the carpet back and open up the hatches in the aisle way.
"Do you know how many men are coming?" he murmured.
"Nope," I said.
He eyed the compartments' dimensions. "Hope there's enough room."
"Miss Abruzzi? Pizza's here," Greg called.
"Oh, good," I said. "Can you grab it, Slick?"
Ethan smirked and hopped down the steps. I took a deep breath to try to calm the whirring nerves in my stomach. "Wow, uh, Catriona?" Ethan called back to me. "Does one of these pizzas have anchovies? Because the smell is pungent."
"They'll have dogs," I said. "And they'll need something to distract them." I cranked the air conditioner down another few notches. "If you could conveniently drop a slice by the door after they're on board, that'd be great."
Ethan set the three boxes down on the table. "Sure. So what do we do until they get here?"
"Keep our cover up," I said. "You'd better get over here and kiss me."
He complied without protest.
"I really appreciate this, you know," I told him between kisses.
"I know. Less talking," he murmured into my neck.
"If I don't talk, I'll jump out of my skin," I informed him.
"That worried?" he asked, after kissing me breathless, which didn't really help.
"It's just that I've never done this before," I explained, running my fingers through his hair.
"Well," he said, "me neither. But you're gonna do it. The great Catriona Abruzzi."
I laughed and kissed him again.
"Boss!" Greg called.
We broke apart, my nerves buzzing with worry and pleasure, thrilling at the term Boss. "Yes?"
"Cops, a ways away. We need to split."
"We're not going anywhere," I said grimly. "Help fix the engine and be ready –we do not take off until the cargo is on board." I used my thumb to rub at the corner of Ethan's mouth. "Got lipstick on you."
"Leave it," he said. "There'll be more later."
I smirked as he stumbled upon the stereo. "Hey, nice," he said. "Let's dance."
"Now?" I said.
"Sure, great way to work jitters." He turned on the radio and music blasted forth. "Come on," he said, holding out his hand. Scooping up my heels, I followed him down the steps where we proceeded to make perfect idiots of ourselves to the beat. Ethan could dance (apparently) and he tried to teach me how to jitterbug –it was abysmally unsuccessful. But by the time five men came booking across the tarmac, we were both sweaty enough to match them.
"Everybody in, down the hatch," I called. Three men didn't give me a second glance; Michael gave me a tired thumbs-up before he dashed up the steps.
"Daddy, go," I said, as John Abruzzi paused.
"What're you doin', Oh," he demanded, breathing heavily.
"Trust me," I said, hearing sirens grow closer. "Go!" I pushed him up the steps, and Ethan followed.
"Where's Veronica?" the man who looked like Michael demanded. "This is her phone." He held up the flip phone.
"She's in the bathroom," I hissed. "Will you get in?"
"Not enough room for five," Dad said. "Four will barely make it in those hatches."
"Lincoln?" Veronica said, astonished, as she exited the bathroom. "What the hell…?"
I groaned. Ethan dropped the pizza slice, as instructed. "Oh, they're pulling up to the gate. We've got a minute, tops," he warned.
"Everyone, in," I commanded, pointing to the hatch. "Except for you –in the bathroom, with her," I said, shooing Lincoln and Veronica back. "Now!"
Ethan helped me close the hatches on the men and lay the carpet back. I heard the bathroom lock. "Get us rolling!" I yelled to the pilot. I grabbed a cheese slick and forced myself to chew, but felt like I was going to be sick. With much effort, I swallowed.
Ethan grabbed my face and said, "Just breathe." I inhaled and leaned my forehead against his. "Good," he whispered.
I breathed out, and then back in again. "Get ready to bluff big," I muttered.
"Hey, man, you can't get on this plane," Greg exclaimed. "This is private property!"
"I got escaped prisoners that may be on this plane!" someone shouted that sounded suspiciously like Bellick.
"I can tell you right now, bub, they ain't," Greg bellowed.
I shared a look with Ethan and got up. As I reached the stairs, I made a show of tugging my dress straight. Smoothing back my hair, I said, "What seems to be the problem?"
The look on Bellick's face when he recognized me approached pure rage. He tried to push past Greg, but as Greg is a huge bear of a man, it didn't work.
"Outta my way," he growled, brandishing his shotgun.
"What is this?" I exclaimed. "Put that gun away before you hurt someone."
"Whoa, what's going on? Mr. B.?" Ethan said, coming up behind me and sliding a hand around my waist.
"Ma'am," another guard said, "We're –"
"Shut up! They're harboring fugitives!"
I drew myself up. "That's a pretty bold accusation," I snapped. "I hope you have proof, or my lawyer will slap you with a libel charge." The radio continued to blare. "Ethan, please turn the radio off," I begged.
He complied, and with a click, the radio was blessedly silenced.
"I would greatly appreciate it," I forced through clenched teeth, "if you gentlemen would go search somewhere else for these supposed escapees."
"Half you men, keep going," one man said. "Bellick –"
Bellick shook him off. "They're here! She's hiding them!"
"First of all," I said, in a much calmer voice than he deserved, "how would any felon get past Greg, here?" Especially since you couldn't lingered in the air, unsaid. "Secondly, I feel that this is specific discrimination, and until you get some proof, we will go about our business," I snapped.
"Brad," a guard hissed.
"This here is Miss Abruzzi," Bellick said with a sneer.
All the guards inhaled and tensed. "Specific discrimination," I repeated, making a face. "What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?"
"Don't play like you don't know –"
"Don't take that tone with me," I snapped. "Because I don't know, and unless one of you enlightens me, I will call the police. More police," I amended.
"John Abruzzi and six others escaped from Fox River an hour ago," the youngest man said quickly.
I was proud of myself. My face went blank, and I stared at him like he had spoken a different language. "I'm sorry?" I said, incredulous. "What?"
"Escaped," Bellick repeated, "and it's mighty suspicious that his daughter has a nice plane all gassed up and waiting at this out-of-the-way airstrip."
"Or she could just be picking up her boyfriend in a convenient location," I said.
"Which is what she did," Ethan said from behind me. "Look, I don't know what the problem is –we've been here alone all night, waiting for the engine to get fixed."
Though I outwardly nodded, my blood ran cold at Ethan's words. If this thing went sideways, he'd get the book thrown at him just as hard as everyone else. "Which Greg tells me it is," I added, "and we'd like to be on our way."
A real police officer stepped forward. "If that's the case, ma'am, you wouldn't mind us coming aboard to check."
My lips thinned. "Sir, if you would like to come aboard, be my guest," I said. "But you'll understand if I don't want gross accusations thrown at me."
He nodded. "Bellick, stay here."
"But she –"
A glare from the other man cut him off. I turned and entered the nice interior, followed by Ethan and the policeman. Not a hair was out of place –though the pizza boxes were strewn about a bit. "Sorry about the mess," Ethan said. "We, ah –got a little carried away."
As the man turned to me, I blushed. "You said something about your lawyer?" he said skeptically.
I nodded. "She's in the bathroom. I think the anchovy pizza didn't sit well with her. Remind me to call about that," I told Ethan.
"I told you it tasted off," Ethan said, sitting on the arm of a chair.
"Yes, yes, you told me. I should have listened."
The policeman walked to the bathroom and knocked. "Ma'am? You in there?"
"Yes," Veronica said through the door.
"Could you open the door, please?" he asked.
"I'd rather not," Veronica said in a strangled voice. "I'm more than a little under the weather. What's this about?"
"He's looking for seven convicts," I said, pitching my voice to carry.
"Well, there's hardly enough room for one person in here, much less seven, let me tell you," she said, and then made a gagging noise.
The policeman's nose wrinkled. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am." He turned back to me. "And no one else is on the plane?"
"Well, there's the pilot and Greg," I pointed out.
He had a look around the cockpit and nodded to himself. "I'm sorry about all this, Miss Abruzzi."
"I understand," I said. "I hope you find my father –before they're in any more trouble."
"Oh, they're in trouble, all right," he muttered, but walked down the steps. "Let's go boys, trail's goin' cold. Weren't nobody there."
I didn't stick around to hear the protests, preferring to sit down and will my legs to stop shaking. I kicked off my heels as Ethan came and sat down, then Greg shut the door and the engines started. Underneath the cover of the noise, Ethan murmured, "He had the gall to say he was gonna call my parents."
"What'd you say?" I whispered.
"Told him to go right ahead and waste more time when he could be looking for prisoners." He looked grim. "But he'll tell them at some point."
"You left them a note, though, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but all it said was, 'I'm fine; don't worry'." He snored.
"You're allowed to break up with me," I said, as the plane began to move and taxi.
"Huh?"
"It might make them forgive you –if you break up with me. If you say that –"
"Oh," he said, almost angrily. "I'm not breaking up with you. I chose to help. You're my girlfriend."
As we lifted off, he kissed me, and I felt my own heart soar.
Someone cleared their throats. We both jerked apart and turned to see Veronica and Lincoln looking at us from the bathroom doorway. "Is it safe to come out?" he asked, smiling a little.
"Sure," I said. "How is it down there?" I called.
"Get me outta here!" someone said.
I smiled. "Okay, hang on!"
Ethan and Lincoln peeled back the carpet and unlatched the doors to the hatch. The four men exploded into the cabin as if their combine pressure propelled them into the larger space. "Woohoo, we made it!" "Mexico, here we come!"
Dad said, "Not a lot of airflow. Going to have to fix that," before I hugged him. "Good job, Oh," he said, hugging back. "You did it." He was pleased –and proud. I couldn't speak for smiling.
"Good job, Catriona," Michael said, eyes sparkling. "That was some bluff."
"You weren't so bad yourselves," I said, embarrassed. "How on earth did you get out?"
They all sighed and looked very tired, but slapped Michael on the back.
"Well, maybe have some pizza first," I suggested. That was met with more enthusiasm. "So, Mexico," I said, leaning against my dad. "Nice place?"
"We'll find out, won't we?" he said. "We can call your mother when we get there."
"Cool," I said.
I could see Veronica in Lincoln's arms –maybe she was glad she had come after all –and Ethan was shaking hands with the Hispanic guy. He guested to me, and the man let out a whistle. "Que bonita, bro."
"What are you saying about me?" I called.
Ethan grinned. "Only nice things. Don't worry."
"She always worries," Dad put in. "Can't cure her of it. It's like a disease."
"Well, maybe I know a cure," Ethan said speculatively.
I smiled. "Give it your best shot, Slick."
As he kissed me, I heard Michael say, "He seems pretty smooth, John. Tells a good story. Maybe he's got a future in your organization."
I kissed Ethan back and thought, Yes, maybe he does.