Vane’s nose was bandaged and there were faint black smudges under both his eyes. They’d only continue to look worse in the next week. The dirty DEA agent’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.
“On the floor, hands still up.” Tucker motioned with his pistol to Vane. “You know the drill. After you’re on your knees, lie on your belly.”
“Who the hell are you and what do you want?” the pilot asked, hands still in the air.
“Federal agent, and this man is under arrest. Just keep your hands up and all this will be over in roughly ten minutes. I’ve got a team on the way.”
“He’s lying,” Vane said, even as he got to his knees. “His name’s Tucker Pankov and he’s wanted for treason.”
The pilot looked at him hard then, recognition flaring in his eyes. Tucker pointed his weapon at him too. “On your knees, then belly.” He hadn’t planned to cuff the pilot too, but it seemed as if he had no choice. Tucker didn’t need some guy trying to be a hero. “In ten minutes you’ll be thanking me for saving your life.”
Vane was on his stomach now, groaning as he moved.
Keeping his weapon in one hand, Tucker reached into his back pocket and pulled out two zip ties. He tossed one in front of Vane’s face. “Behind your back, slip them on.”
Vane did as he said, albeit awkwardly and cursing under his breath as he moved. Weapon still trained on the pilot, who’d moved to his belly, Tucker stepped up to Vane and placed his boot on the guy’s back. Moving quickly, he bent down and finished tightening the zip tie before doing a pat-down of Vane. He found a SIG tucked into the back of his pants. Had to have been taken from one of the agents.
Tucker slipped it into his own holster. “If you killed one of Burkhart’s guys, you’ll never see the inside of a prison cell,” he murmured low enough for Vane to hear, his intent clear. He wanted him pissing-his-pants terrified. And it was likely true. Burkhart didn’t seem like the kind of guy to let the death of one of his people go. He’d be covert about it, but he’d see Vane dead and in the ground.
Next he moved to the pilot and zip-tied his wrists. “Sorry about this,” he murmured. Then, as an afterthought, he continued. “After this is over, get better security.”
The man didn’t respond, but his body language made it clear he was angry. At least he wasn’t spouting off hollow threats. Tucker searched the pilot too, found a cell phone and pocketknife, took both.
“What’s the security code to your phone?” he asked, scanning the interior of the hangar again. It seemed oddly quiet. “Where is everyone?” he asked again before the guy could answer his first question.
The man paused, but answered a moment later. “Assistant’s on lunch break and my partner’s got another charter up right now. One of the romantic tours with champagne and chocolate, so it’s longer than normal. Look, if you need me to take you somewhere I’ll do it right now. We can leave before my people get back and no one has to be the wiser. There’s no reason for anyone to get hurt.”
Tucker’s eyebrows rose. It was hard not to be impressed by the man’s nobility. “No one’s going to get hurt. What’s your security code?”
Sighing, the man said, “Six, two, eight, one.”
Tucker put some distance between himself and the two men as he swiped it in. He’d started to call Elliott when movement from the open hangar door snagged his attention. His weapon was up in an instant, all the breath whooshing from his lungs. Rayford Osborn had a gun to Karen’s temple and was using her as a shield.
No, no, no.
A flood of ice invaded Tucker’s entire body, making it impossible for him to breathe. Everything else around him funneled out as Osborn shoved Karen forward. Bastard was still careful to keep her in front of him. She had a bag in her hand too, likely Osborn’s.
“Drop your weapon,” Osborn shouted, his voice trembling as much as his damn hand.
Oh hell, that wasn’t good at all. If Osborn didn’t have any experience with firearms, he could accidentally kill Karen.
“Osborn?” Vane shouted from behind Tucker. “I’m tied up over here!”
Without turning around, Tucker knew that Vane wouldn’t have a good visual of them. He was on his stomach and there was a helo blocking him off.
Tucker remained steady, his stance strong as he kept his gaze pinned on Osborn’s. He didn’t let himself meet Karen’s eyes. Didn’t want to see the fear there. If he looked directly at her he could get distracted, and that couldn’t happen.
Not with her life in the balance.
“It’s over, Osborn. There’s a team arriving at the airport now. You’ll never get out of here, but you haven’t done anything you can’t take back. Hillenbrand sucked you into this, we all know it.”
His brown eyes looked wild, but he didn’t take another step forward. He also didn’t move his pistol away from Karen’s head.
Tucker couldn’t help it—he flicked a glance at Karen. Her emerald green eyes flashed with anger, not fear. Okay, anger was good. He wished he could convey to her that he was going to get her out of this no matter what it took.
“Where’s the pilot?” Osborn demanded.
“Right behind that bird.” Tucker motioned with his chin but didn’t drop his weapon.
“All right, all right,” Osborn murmured, seemingly to himself. “I can still do this.”
“Can I put the bag down?” Karen asked quietly. “It’s heavy.”
“What . . . ? Fine,” he snapped.
Moving slowly, Karen let her arm stretch out before she let the bag drop. It landed with a heavy thud, the sound echoing in the hangar. It was smart that she’d asked him; otherwise Osborn might have freaked at the sound and shot her. When she brought her hand back to her side, Tucker watched as she carefully slid it into her jacket pocket. He didn’t focus on the movement, though, not wanting to draw attention to her. He was terrified for her, but he had an idea what she was doing.
Osborn shoved her forward. “Come on, this is almost over. You’ll go back to your life soon.”
“Osborn, listen to me, you haven’t done anything that can’t be undone,” he said, repeating what he’d said before, trying to drive the point home. A lie, but Tucker was willing to sell his soul to save Karen. He’d do or say anything. “It’s clear you were sucked into this. If you testify against Hillenbrand—”
“Shut the fuck up! And put down your gun. I’m not telling you again!”
Vane was shouting in the background, demanding to be set free, but Tucker tuned him out. Tuned everything out but Osborn and Karen. Soon the backup team would be here and everything could go to hell if Osborn got spooked.
Tucker had to bring him down before that. He looked at Karen again, saw the determination in her gaze, knew she was planning something. Did she have a weapon tucked in her jacket? Had to be her brother’s knife. He knew she kept it on her. If Osborn took the weapon off her and she made a move, he’d have one shot to bring the guy down.
One chance.
“I’m putting it down now,” he said, his gaze still on the woman who’d come to mean so much to him. Blood rushed in his ears as he bent down, slowly moving his weapon to the floor.
Osborn pointed his pistol at him now. “You should have just left us alone! We’re doing this country a favor,” he snarled, his face a mask of mottled rage.
Karen’s hand pulled free of her pocket, her brother’s knife in her hand. Tucker ignored the continued ranting of Osborn and forced his heart rate to slow, to remain steady. He gave the subtlest of nods to Karen, hoping she understood.
“I’m putting it down now,” Tucker said quietly. He raised his free hand out to his side, using it as a visual distraction.
Osborn’s head turned in that direction. In one fluid movement, Karen slammed the blade behind her into Osborn’s thigh. She threw herself to the floor as Osborn screamed out in pain.
A shot fired, pinging off the floor mere feet from Tucker. He didn’t flinch as he aimed and fired at Osborn.
Pop. Pop. Pop. He hit Osborn center mass.