3. Max

I feltlike I was free-falling from a ten story building. Bracing, I threw my hands out, letting out a yelp as I hit the floor. Laughter boomed around me as I dragged my drunk ass off the floor and pushed up using the chair to keep me steady.

“Fuckers,” I grumbled, fixing my sunglasses as they sat cockeyed on my face. Searching the ground, I found my cigar and brushed it off before shoving it back in my mouth.

“You know, smoking in the building isn’t allowed,” Cash reprimanded.

“You made me be here,” I replied, refusing to put out my one and only vice. Okay, not my only, but a very important one that I refused to give up. I straightened my hat, pulling it back over my eyes as I took my seat.

“Sorry if we interrupted your beauty sleep, but we have a job to discuss.”

“So discuss it,” I said, leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes. “I’m not stopping you.”

“You’re flying the plane. It would help if you knew what was going on.”

“Whatever. Just give me the flight plans.”

“You know, you’re part of this company. It would be helpful if you weren’t drunk off your ass all the time.”

“Maybe for you. I happen to like it.”

“Boss, just let me fly the plane,” Scottie muttered. “My team is going anyway. It’s ridiculous to have two pilots.”

“Yeah, but they need me in case you crash,” I grinned, not even opening my eyes.

“Hey, you crashed too,” he shot back.

“Does anyone have some scotch?” I called out. “Fuck, I need a drink.”

I hit the ground hard, but this time, it wasn’t because I was dreaming about falling from the sky. No, this time it was because my boss yanked the chair backward, making me fall on my ass.

“Hey!” I shouted, tearing my sunglasses off my face. “What the fuck are you trying to do? You could have smashed my cigar.”

“And that would be terrible,” he retorted, “but not as bad as when you crash the plane because you’re too fucking drunk to fly.”

“Then don’t send me,” I shrugged. “Not sure anyone would care either way.”

Scottie’s hand shot up. “I would care. I trust myself a hell of a lot more than him. Have you seen the way he flies?”

“Have you seen the way you fly?” Cash snapped. “Fuck, you’re both liabilities.”

“He breaks planes for fun!” Scottie argued. “You can’t trust him.”

“Well, that was sort of my job,” I chuckled.

Everyone in the room went silent as they stared at me. Yeah, not even Cash knew that part of my sketchy past with the military. “Wait, what?”

I stood, stumbling into the table as the world tilted. “Yeah, I was a test pilot.”

Scottie huffed out a laugh, which just pissed me off. “I can’t believe the military would trust you with a plane, let alone test them.”

“Well, they did. And I was fucking good.”

“Then why’d you leave?” Scottie asked, glaring at me.

I shrugged, stuffing my hand down my pants to scratch my balls. Fuck, when was the last time I showered? There was a distinct sweaty smell coming from somewhere nearby, and I had the feeling it was me. Oh well, I could shower before I got on the plane.

“Felt like a change.”

Cash’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “So, you just left for no reason?”

“When you’re done, you’re done. I retired to the Caribbean and had a sweet gig until you fucked it up for me.”

“Sweet gig?” Brock laughed. “Boss, I vote we take our chances with Scottie.”

“Hey! I’m a good fucking pilot.”

“I’m not denying that. I’m saying I’ll risk the vomit.”

“Alright,” Lock stood, holding out his hands. Ever the peacemaker, he was always trying to calm everyone down. His ass was wound so tight, and I didn’t get it because he had a hot piece of ass on his arm. He should be the happiest guy around here. “Let’s just take it down a notch. Scottie, you know the reasons Cash had to pull you from flying missions. I think we can all agree that the safety of our crew comes first.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Fuck, you bore the shit out of me. If you pull out a fucking diagram, I’m gonna toss you out of the plane.”

“Hey, I do not make diagrams when flying,” he jabbed a finger at me.

“Right, just for every other part of the fucking job.”

“Fuck off,” Edu snapped, shoving back his chair. “The guy is standing up for you and you can’t stop running your mouth.”

Once again, I considered just making a run for the border and slipping back into the Caribbean and taking my chances down there. It had to be better than sitting on my ass here day after day. Hell, maybe I’d head somewhere else instead.

“It doesn’t matter what anyone else wants,” Cash snapped. “I’m telling you this is your fucking job,” he said, slapping a file against my chest. “Get with the fucking program.”

I shoved my glasses back on my face and flipped the file open. All the letters blurred together, giving me a headache. Shutting it, I slapped it down on the table and pretended to listen as he droned on about the mission. Bad guys…blah, blah, blah. Danger and lots of stolen weapons…blah, blah, blah. Special job for the FBI…blah, blah, blah. Fuck, this was boring. While the rest of the guys were excited about this job, I was dreaming about the hammock I’d put out back under my new favorite tree. There was nothing like lazying under a tree with a bottle of scotch as I dozed throughout the day.

Not that I would get the pleasure of that anytime soon.

“Wheels up at 0600,” Cash said, snapping his gaze to meet mine. “Are we clear?”

I gave him a thumbs up and did my best not to fall asleep in my chair again. My eyes kept slipping closed as he mapped out some sort of plan with the guys. Lock went through every point of extraction, making sure we all knew every fucking reason it could possibly go wrong.

1. Too many baddies.

2. No cover.

3. Too close to their weapons stores.

4. Lock was too fucking stuck up his own ass to pick a fucking route.

“Am I boring you?” Lock asked, his eyes glittering with hatred.

“Yes.”

Crossing his muscled arms over his chest, he tried to intimidate me. It wouldn’t work. First, I was too much of an ass to be intimidated by anyone else. Second, I had just as much muscle. Even if I didn’t work out with the rest of them, I kept in shape when I wasn’t drunk off my ass.

Okay, maybe I didn’t work out as much as them, but I was still perfectly fit.

“Why don’t you point out what you feel the best extraction point is?” he challenged.

I dragged my ass off the chair and marched—stumbled—over to where he had a map laid out. It took me all of thirty seconds to decide what I’d be doing. Pointing at the map, I tapped the main building. “Rooftop exit.”

“Are you kidding?” Edu laughed. “It’s like it’s your first day on the job.”

“As you’ve already pointed out, all the exits are shit exits. We’ll need a helicopter for this mission and one man on the guns for extraction.”

They all looked around, then back at me. “Uh, in case you missed it, the whole point of the mission is to retrieve stolen weapons and get them back in the F.B.I.’s hands,” Brock pointed out.

I nodded, still not caring. “And I’m guessing someone fucked up and allowed these…baddies—” I had to say that since I hadn’t paid attention to where we were going or who we were fighting— “to get their hands on weapons. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Cash answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, so light it up and get the hell out of dodge. Extraction is on the roof, allowing a quick exit with the least amount of resistance.”

“You’re forgetting about the machine guns on the perimeter. You won’t get within a hundred feet of that building.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “As I said, you need a man on the guns laying down cover fire.”

“If you have one guy on the guns, who the fuck is going to set the charges while the other two are busy taking out the guards?”

I rolled my eyes. Fuck, did I have to do all the thinking around here? “Get the girly man to do it.”

“Sorry?” Cash’s eyebrows shot up.

“You know, the one with the girly name.”

They all looked at each other, then realized who I was talking about. “IRIS,” Lock sighed. “Fuck, he’s right.”

“No, I’ve banned IRIS from all explosives. He has too much fun with it.”

“And you want to prevent him from having more fun?” I questioned. “This is literally what he does for a living.”

“Actually, he disarmed them,” Cash corrected.

“Before. Didn’t you hire him to do precisely this shit?”

“He’d probably blow the building with us in there,” Edu grumbled.

“We could always send Thumper in with him,” Brock suggested. Cash smacked him upside the head and he winced. “What was that for? We were all thinking it. The man already lost a leg to IRIS. I think he can handle him.”

“If we’re sending in IRIS, we need a different strategy,” Cash said, studying the plans again.

I rolled my eyes and slumped in the chair, pulling my hat down over my eyes. “Let me know when you’ve thought of a plan. I’ll be taking a nap.”

“Fuck off!”I shouted into my pillow. Rolling over, a bottle fell to the floor and rolled across it. Groaning, I grabbed my watch just as the door burst open and Scottie marched in, glaring at me.

“You’re supposed to be on the fucking plane.”

“Not until 0600.”

“It’s seven in the morning,” he snapped.

Squinting up at him, I frowned. “You meant 0600 in the morning?”

“Fucking hell,” he grumbled, snatching the covers off my body, then yelping and tossing them back on me. “Don’t you ever fucking sleep with clothes on?”

“Only when I’m sober,” I muttered, staggering to my feet. My first step was on the bottle, sending me flying to my ass. I stared up at the ceiling, shaking my head. “I land on my ass way too often.”

“Then maybe you should stop drinking.” He grabbed the bottle and stared at the label. “Are you even sober enough to fly a plane?”

Getting to my feet, I stretched, yawning loudly. “I’m always sober enough to fly. Hell, when I was a test pilot, I was drunk nearly every day. That’s how they knew a regular pilot could fly the plane.”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense.”

I stared at him in confusion. “Which part?”

“They knew pilots could fly because you were drunk?”

I thought it over and nodded. “Yeah. If I could fly it drunk, then they were good to go.”

“Whatever. Just get your ass on the plane in ten.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “I’m gonna need at least twenty. I gotta piss.”

“And shower.”

I lifted my arms and smelled my pits. “Nah, I should be good. We’re only blowing people up. Not going to the bar.”

“So, you need to smell good for going to the bar,” he nodded.

“Well…it helps to get the ladies.”

“How about you shower to sober up? Give us a halfway decent chance of surviving this mission.”

“If you think it’ll help.” I walked past him out of the room and down the hall. Doors slammed as I strolled to the bathroom buck-ass naked. Once inside, I hit the cold water and soaped off quickly with whatever was laying around, then stepped out, swiping the water from my eyes. “Good enough,” I grumbled.

Whistling, I headed down the hallway, dripping water all over the floor as my feet slapped against the wood. Scottie was still waiting in my room and rolled his eyes as I walked back in and pulled on a pair of jeans, sans underwear.

“Doesn’t that chafe?”

“You’d think. But I like it,” I grinned at him. I pulled on a T-shirt and grabbed some socks. Scottie tossed my boots at me, nearly hitting me in the face. “Hey, calm your shit. I just woke up.”

“And now we’re all late.”

“You know, you whine an awful lot. Do you ever relax? You know, just live in the moment?”

“Do you ever take anything seriously?” he shot back.

I thought about it, then shook my head. “Not usually. I prefer to live a carefree life.”

I could tell I’d thoroughly irritated him, and it wasn’t just the fact that I’d made him late, or that I was taking his position in the company. Honestly, I was pretty sure he was grateful for the opportunity to be anywhere other than the pilot’s seat. He just didn’t like how it happened. But when he walked out my door and slammed it in my face, I knew it wasn’t just my imagination.

But did I let it get to me? Not at all. I could handle pretty much anything with the right amount of alcohol, which was something I needed if I was going to make this flight.

“I hope you can pass the breathalyzer,” he grumbled as I got in his truck.

Pulling a flask from my back pocket, I emptied the contents in my mouth, bummed when it was gone. “It shouldn’t be a problem.” As I screwed the lid on, I caught him glaring at me. “What?”

“We’re about to get on a plane.”

“I’m aware,” I said, my head bobbing slightly.

“And you’re flying the plane!”

I snorted. “Well, I’m glad you told me that. Otherwise, I would have done something stupid like grab that bottle of booze on the table inside the door.”

“You’re flying with my friends,” he hissed. “If you don’t take this seriously, I will make your life a living hell during this flight.”

“Ooh, what are you gonna do? Puke on me?” I grinned as I said the last part, just because I knew it would get his goat. Frankly, I didn’t have a problem with vomit. I’d been covered in my own plenty of times. You got used to the smell after a while. Besides, once it happened enough, you learned to plan drinking excursions better.

“I’ll do worse than that,” he snapped, then turned to face the windshield. “Not that I can think of anything at the moment, but something will come to me.”

I snorted and rested my head back, dozing off as we pulled out of the driveway. I couldn’t remember how long the drive was. Someone usually drove me to the plane so I could stumble on board. Not that I made a habit out of flying drunk. That would be irresponsible. However, I’d learned over the many years that I was able to tolerate quite a bit of alcohol and still be in control of my faculties. It took a lot to get me truly sloshed anymore.

I nearly leapt out of my skin when a voice screeched through a bullhorn right in my ear. Wiping the drool from my face, I sat up, glaring at IRIS. He was grinning at me like an idiot, like he didn’t mind taking his life in his own hands.

I shoved the door open and stepped out, wishing I had brought that bottle on the table. It was a shame I would have to be sober enough to hear everything they said the whole flight. They’d probably talk about the “plan”. That’s what usually happened, and it was boring as hell.

“Alright, let’s get this shit over with,” I grumbled, taking my seat in the front of the plane. To my utter disappointment, Scottie took the co-pilot’s seat, his eyes watching every move I made. Just to fuck with him, I flipped some unnecessary switches and pretended to need to read the preflight checklist. Hell, I had that thing memorized the first few times I flew a plane.

“Where are we going again?” I asked, pulling off my glasses to rub my eyes.

“You have the flight plan right in front of you.”

I looked around, knowing exactly where it was. Then snatched it and squinted really hard at the wording. “This doesn’t make sense. Weren’t we going to Guam?”

“No,” he bit out. “This has always been the plan.”

“Well, fuck, I better check the fuel.” I unstrapped, acting like I was going to leave the plane.

“What are you doing? The fuel gauge is right in front of you!”

I stumbled into him, making sure to fall right in his lap. “Oops. Got a little dizzy there. Guess I shouldn’t have drank so much last night.”

“That’s it,” he growled, shoving me off him.

I crashed to the ground, my hat falling to the floor as he stepped over me and stormed his way to the back of the plane.

“No one is flying with this asshole. He’s still drunk off his ass,” Scottie snapped to Lock. “Either I fly or we’re not going anywhere.”

“You know what Cash said—” Lock started.

It was a gamble. Lock was a hard-ass rule follower. It was always going to be difficult to manipulate the situation in my favor, but I took the risk that Lock would put the time sensitivity of the assignment ahead of his risk aversion.

“Fine, but for the official record, you put down that Max was in the pilot’s seat.”

“Whatever,” Scottie grumbled, storming back to the front. “Get your ass off the ground and sober up. We have a job to do.”

Grinning to myself, I stood and strapped into the single seat a few rows back, then lowered my hat over my head. The great thing about being a drunk was that no one expected much out of you. That made it easier to do shit like take naps when you were supposed to be working.

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all.