Andra unclipped the helmet and slipped it off, even though she was still handcuffed. She tossed it on the floor by her feet
Death hadn’t changed, not in all the years since she’d seen it up close the last time. It was still cold and ugly, and there was nothing honorable about it. That was a lie people told to make themselves feel better. In reality, the only people who benefited from the farce were those left behind, and it didn’t do them much good either.
Three men, shot like nothing at all. Bang. Gone.
Andra crossed herself and then realized what she’d done. Slipping back into old ways of doing things and old methods of thinking wasn’t going to help.
To these people, she was the assassin who flew all over Europe, and once to Japan, for contracts—the one who lit a candle for each victim.
The SUV which ambushed them had held four guys. Two were sitting up front now, one driving and two behind. They flanked Palmer and Andra in the middle row.
The deputy had seemed as surprised as she was when four Hispanic guys jumped out. Likely he’d never met drug runners or mercenaries or hit men in Sanctuary. Not Venezuelan ones, anyway. Apparently Palmer had been expecting someone else—Congressman Thane probably—and not four guys who shot the three airmen in cold blood. He’d puked on the road.
Way to show them you’re a tough guy.
Now he was sitting beside her, looking smug. Probably figured these were just hirelings and he was on his way to get paid.
Little did he know.
The front passenger glanced at the driver and Andra got a full look at the scar running from the corner of his eye to his chin. “Highway goes another thirty miles before we hit town.”
Palmer glanced between the two men with just his eyes. Andra knew he didn’t understand a word of the Spanish they were speaking. She was having trouble enough, given their accents and the slang terms they used. European Spanish had some differences to it, much like the variations in phrasing used by Americans and Brits.
The driver said, “He’ll be there with the plane?”
“Si. He’s on route now.”
“And the government man?”
“Already waiting for us.”
“Good,” the driver chuckled. “I’m ready to get paid and have him do the dirty work. Getting this moron to come along so he can take the blame for it all was a great idea.”
Andra stared out the window at low grass and shrubs whizzing by as the SUV roared down the highway. So they were going to kill Palmer and double-cross Thane?
“The boss doesn’t care about any of that. All he wants is the other fed.”
Her stomach did a backflip. John? She probably would have thrown up thinking about John being killed by these guys but there wasn’t anything in her stomach. They didn’t want her, or Palmer or Thane. Just the money.
And their boss wanted John.
Her head swam. John would be blown apart like the airmen, giving her a courteous smile one moment and then dead the next. Tossed aside like trash.
“What about the girl?”
She stiffened. They weren’t going to kill her?
“What do you think I’m going to do with her?” The driver chuckled a low laugh. “After, if the boss isn’t going to keep her for himself, we can sell her.”
The guy in the passenger seat turned to her. She could feel his stare. “Once she’s fixed up a bit, we should be able to get a good price.”
Andra shifted. Her ribs hurt, but not as bad as they would had John not tightened the vest so much. She closed her eyes, trying not to let her mind run through the implications of what they were talking about.
You’re really going to push me this far, God?
Asking her to hold her peace and go to jail for life was one thing. Doing nothing while that happened was entirely another.
She squeezed her eyes so hard the swollen one hurt. Don’t make me do this.
If it came down to it, Andra might not be able to stop herself from trying to kill them before she let that happen. She couldn’t even defend herself? She’d made a promise when she became a Christian she wouldn’t kill. Period. Was she wrong to have made that promise? She couldn’t have known something like this was going to happen. Would she have to take back her word?
And yet, this wasn’t just about her. They wanted John, probably dead or eventually they’d kill him. God must have brought her here so she could get John clear of the threat hanging over his head. If she could do the same for herself or if John managed it, then they might be even. Free to go their separate ways. She wouldn’t always feel like she owed him for saving her from Palmer and Thane.
She could quit WITSEC, but she needed to be able to do so with a clean slate. If the threat was eliminated then she would be released from the program. That was the only way she would be able to see Helena; to live her life as a free woman for the first time in…forever.
But John was in Sanctuary. He didn’t even know any of this was happening. Her stomach sank. John was going to try and rescue her.
He must have figured Palmer would lead him to whoever was behind this. He was determined to set everything right so she could come back. But what was the point, unless he thought it meant they would be together.
“No.”
The two guys in front chuckled. “I guess she understands.”
Palmer laughed too, though not because he knew what they thought was funny. He leaned over and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Won’t be long now.”
He was right. It wouldn’t be long.
John was on his way and these guys knew he was coming. The trap would spring shut, and he would be dead.
And there was nothing Andra could do about it.
**
John got between Ben and the Air Force lieutenant. “This isn’t helping. We know who did this.”
The lieutenant snarled. “So do we.”
“It wasn’t us, it was whoever took my deputy and the prisoner. If we stand here all day, they’re going to get away. Do you want that to happen?” John didn’t wait for an answer. “No. And neither do we. So call more of your guys in to take care of your people and let us go after them.”
The officer glanced from John to Ben.
Ben said, “Or we can just leave. Since we have the right to do so.”
John wasn’t sure it was exactly accurate, not that he knew what the jurisdiction of an air force officer was when their people had been killed on American soil.
The lieutenant geared up to yell some more.
“Enough!” Nate emerged from the plane, hopping down the steps and over to them on his boot.
The airmen who’d flown the lieutenant in, both gaped. One turned to the other. “Dude, it’s the Dolphin’s quarterback.”
“Nate Mason, nice to meet you.” He flashed his million dollar smile—okay, it might be good for something—and lifted his hands, placating everyone. “Let’s all take a second. Something tragic has happened, but my brothers and I—”
The two airmen and the lieutenant all glanced between the three of them, like they were trying to see the similarities. One whispered, “This is so cool. Look, one’s a marshal.”
Like John hadn’t already introduced himself.
Nate said, “We really need to go after these guys. We want to get them as much as you do. The woman my brother loves is in that car, along with a man trying to frame her for a murder she didn’t commit. You see, she used to be an—”
John swung around. “They don’t need all the details.”
“Okay.” The lieutenant sighed. “I’m not leaving. You can go, but I want to be briefed.” His dark eyes focused on John. “And you better get these guys.”
John nodded.
They sprinted back to the plane. Ben shut the door and said, “Nate, did you have to almost tell them Andra was an assassin?”
He lifted his hands. “What? I was on a roll.”
“Can we just go?” John went to the front and regained his seat. Ben turned them around, and John called Grant while they took off.
“Hey brother.” Grant blew out a breath. “I’m on my way to you. I heard word through official channels about what happened. Although there was some question as to whether you guys were the killers. I explained the situation to the General and he’s mobilizing personnel, so you’ll have help. The FBI got on the line and they have two teams, including SWAT, coming up from their satellite office in Boise.”
“I appreciate that.” Then again, it might not be a help. John prayed they wouldn’t get there until after the danger was over. He didn’t particularly want to go up against four guys, plus Palmer. Not when it was just him and Ben. Extra people meant the operation got a whole lot more complicated, and he wasn’t going to wait for anyone else’s go-ahead. “So where are we headed?”
“Satellite image shows the men in the SUV loaded up Palmer and Ms. Caleri, and went south. There’s a mountain town a sixty-five miles away.”
“Why would they head there? You think they’re going to stop or keep driving through?”
“I’m thinking they’re going to try and use the airstrip just outside of town. The Kicking Corral ranch is there, and they have a small aircraft. The runway is a little short but Ben might be able to land.”
John stared out the window. More mountains. “Will we get there ahead of them?”
“Maybe.”
“So they could see the plane and make a run for it. We’ll scare them off.”
“It’s possible. But those are your choices.”
“Got it.” John hung up. Guess he was going to have to pray again.
**
Andra winced, but she didn’t want the guy pulling her along to know she had cracked ribs. The driver pulled the SUV inside a barn. The farmhouse had cracked windows and a boarded up front door with a sign saying, “No Entry”.
He tugged her into the barn and shoved her toward the back corner. “Boss should be here in fifteen.”
Hadn’t he said the “government man” would be waiting? She glanced around. Palmer looked like he was watching for something to happen.
The guy nearest the door pulled it open and Congressman Thane strode in, the bulk of his girth hanging over his belt. His face was red, as though he’d run a 5K before he came here.
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his shiny forehead. “Gentlemen.”
Thane’s eyes settled on Andra and all the hatred the town of Sanctuary had shown toward her was there, times a thousand.
The Venezuelan with the scar strode forward, holding out a tablet. “Enter your account number and we can begin the transfer.”
Thane tore his gaze from her and pecked the numbers on the screen with his meaty index finger. “There.”
He strode past the man, dismissing him, and walked until his face was an inch from Andra’s. “I’ve waited a long time for this.” His breath smelled like spicy chips. “Years, where all I’ve dreamed of is killing you with my bare hands the way you killed Andrew.”
Andra didn’t give him the satisfaction of trembling; though her stomach hurt from how tight she held it. She sucked in a breath half the depth of her normal lung capacity. Likely pretty soon she would pass out. Which should make this easier, even if there were some things she’d like to do before then.
She said, “Drew spoke of his godfather often. I figured if anyone could find me it would be that man. So…bravo.”
He flinched, eyes wide. “You’re congratulating me?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Just a little sentiment, one killer to another.”
That appealed to his pride. When he took her elbow, he was smirking. They got two steps before the Venezuelan closest to him pulled his gun up and shot the Congressman in the chest.
Andra jerked to a stop.
The Venezuelan shifted and shot Palmer, who was fumbling for his weapon. The bullet hit him low on his torso. Blood soaked his shirt and the vest he was wearing. Palmer glanced from the gun to the open front of his jacket, wide eyed.
He collapsed.
“Pitiful, really.” The Spanish words were full of disgust. The Venezuelan strode to the door and cracked it an inch so he could look out. “How long?”
His associate, who had just watched two murders with no reaction, said, “Two minutes.”
Sure enough, the sound of engines preceded a small aircraft landing behind the barn. The Venezuelan with the scar pulled the doors open and a man stepped into the room. His suit was Italian and extremely well cut, and he had rings on at least four fingers. His gaze flitted over the two dead guys and settled on her. “Excellent.” He glanced at scar guy. “When is Mr. Mason expected?”
Scar guy pulled out a phone. “I’ll make the call now and confirm.” He ducked out and the guy in the Italian suit followed.
The other two stepped closer to Andra. One on each side of her, both held automatic weapons. One glanced over to the other. “I don’t know why we can’t do him the same way we did Alphonz.”
Andra waited for more.
“Rats deserve it, but undercover feds get more. The boss doesn’t like being played for a fool.”
“True.”
They both nodded, making “mm-hm” noises in their throats.
One motioned back toward her with a tilt of his head. “You think we have time to…”
“Probably not.”
“Yeah, probably not.”
Andra looked down at where Congressman Thane lay beside her. His suit jacket had flapped open onto the straw on the floor. An expensive-looking gold pen was tucked in his inside breast pocket. A piece of wood lay on the other side of her, long enough and thick enough to do some damage.
She hefted it up in a swing toward the guy on the right, ignoring the screaming pain in her ribs. The wood cracked across the back of his head and he went down. The other guy turned with his gun. She side-swiped the weapon with her palm, whipping it across her body. It cleared her torso before it let rip, the noise like fireworks. She punched and kicked, trying to get his legs out from under him, but the guy weighed probably twice what she did.
His punch came out of nowhere. It slammed into her swollen eye like a thousand flare guns lit off inside her head. Andra collapsed back and his weight slammed into her. She grasped for his face, but her fingers were slick with sweat.
He grabbed her head and slammed it down onto the floor.
**
John and Ben had seen the plane land at the farm, so they circled around toward a neighboring piece of land. Ben gripped the rudder. “Hold on!”
The plane lowered. It juddered along the dirt, tearing the underside of the Cessna apart, but they made it down in one piece. Nate yelled from the back, while John just sat sucking in breaths. He looked at Ben. The guy was smiling.
John would’ve thought they’d all perished in a ball of flames, given the way Nate was carrying on about how terrible it was.
John unbuckled and got up, shooting his brother a look. “I’ll spot you the security deposit.”
Ben actually laughed as he and John trotted down the steps onto the rutted ground of furrowed dirt. Nate hobbled after them as they sprinted to the farm they’d seen from the air. It was at least a mile of rough terrain. And the longer it took the longer Andra was in danger.
The satellite phone rang.
Ben hissed. “Turn that thing off.”
“It’s Grant.” John reached the edge of the field, crouched and answered it. “What’s up?”
“We found out who took Thane’s offer of money for Andra. Took some digging, but it’s the same guys who blew up Alphonz outside the courthouse in Kansas. They’re not after Andra so Thane can get revenge. They’re using Thane’s money to get to you.”
John froze. “Alphonz’s boss has Andra?”
“Give the phone to Ben.”
John didn’t have words. He lowered the phone and Ben snatched it out of his hand without him having to say anything.
“Yeah?” Ben’s gaze moved to John and his eyes went dark. “For sure.”
He hung up.
“Grant’s suggestion is I knock you out and leave you here, then go get your girl on my own.”
John straightened and backed away. Ben would totally do that. The fact Grant had been the one to suggest it cut through him with a depth of pain he’d rarely received from family. Nate stood to the side, same distance from both of them, cautious enough not to visibly take sides. For once, his usual smile was absent.
Ben’s jaw worked back and forth. “I’m not going to. All I want to know is, if it comes down to you or Andra will you give up your life to save hers?”
“Of course.”
Ben’s expression didn’t change, remaining a steady focus that gave no indication he was in a high-stress situation. “You need to understand I’m not going to let that happen.”
“I won’t let her die, and I won’t let them take her.”
“And I’m done arguing. I’m not going to let you die.” Ben turned and strode away.
John followed, trotting after his brother’s long strides. They climbed a wire fence and jumped down onto a dirt road. Why did he suddenly feel like a little kid? What made Ben more trained at this than him?
“You do know I’m a marshal, right? You might have the super-secret job but it doesn’t give you superiority.”
Ben kept walking. “The simple fact this is personal for you means I take the lead.”
“Doesn’t work for me, Ben. My town, my charge.”
“So this has nothing to do with your personal feelings?”
“My personal feelings are moot if they kill her.” John took the lead. “Until I know for sure that didn’t happen, I’m holding them in reserve.”
“Gees, you’re such a romantic.”
“Like you would know anything about being romantic.”
A flash of something which looked a lot like pain crossed Ben’s face.
But there wasn’t time. John put out his arm to stop Nate’s forward motion.
Ben stopped too. “I see it.”
They crouched beside a gate, a turn-off leading to a farmhouse. In front of the barn was a dirty white Lexus, two rough-looking Hispanic men with automatic weapons who were guarding the door and a bigger guy in a suit. Sticking out from behind the barn was the tail of a small silver plane.
John squinted under the bill of his ball cap. “How do we approach?”
Ben opened his mouth to reply. A loud voice boomed across the expanse between the road and the farmhouse. “U.S. Marshal John Mason!” It was low in tone and had a Spanish lilt which sounded nothing like Andra’s. “I know you’re out there. I’ve got your girl and if you want her back then we make a trade.”
Ben snorted.
“You for her!”
“Of course.” Ben shook his head. “Because it takes too much effort not to be completely cliché.”
John moved. “I’m going in.”
Ben held him back. “Give me the jacket. We look enough alike I can stall him while you get to the barn. Nate, you disable their plane while John gets Andra.”
Either way it meant John would get to Andra first. “Okay.”
Nate nodded.
Ben circled the open gate and started walking down the dirt lane to the farmhouse. His stride made him look like he was going for a leisurely stroll. Did anything faze him?
John stayed low, climbed between the fence rails and army-crawled down the field to the plane.
He was alongside the front of the barn when he heard, “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the man of the hour. Nice of you to join us.”
Nate gave him a quick nod and continued, giving the barn a wide arc.
Ben planted his boots, still a distance away from Alphonz’s boss. “Where is she?”
“Oh, you’ll get your little killer. All in good time.”
“You think I give a crap about her?” Ben shrugged. “The woman’s a murder suspect. I’ll be in more trouble if she goes AWOL. I gotta make my quota of arrests, you know?”
John crawled forward, praying the two sentries out front didn’t see him approaching. A back way into the barn would be nice.
The suited man laughed. “Figures cops are more about the numbers than letting a businessman make some money. No respect for the little guy, you know?”
“So let her go. She can wait for the FBI. You and I will be long gone.”
“A man of action. I like it.” The suit sniffed. “Too bad your girl is not of this earth anymore.”
John’s hand slipped and his face smashed the dirt.
“Say again?”
The suit’s eyes had narrowed. “Your girl is dead.” He pulled out a gun and pointed it at Ben. “Why would we take off when I can kill you right here?”
He fired.