Shane’s memories poured in like thick concrete. Undercover. He’d found the video, and he’d watched it. Tears had choked him with fury. But then almost two years into his assignment, he’d found the second video. The one where Jory blinked after being shot. Maybe. Maybe it had been a trick of light—the angle of the camera. But… maybe it had been a blink.
Shane gasped, nearly bending over at the memory.
Movement sounded. Josie screamed. Shane turned instinctively toward the sound, the movement saving his life.
Tom tackled him, head into stomach. Shane hit the counter inches from the open hatch. The plane jumped, and then tilted to the left. They were going down.
Shane pivoted, sweeping his leg underneath Tom’s. He shoved.
Tom flew out the hatch and into the dark night, his yell echoing behind them to taper into silence.
With a pissed growl, Shane leaned down and yanked the ladder inside before sliding the hatch closed. His ears rang in the sudden silence.
Josie rose from her seat, hurrying toward him. He grabbed and yanked her as close as possible. The scent of wild berries filled his nose. “It’s okay, Josie. We’re safe.”
She lifted her face toward his, tears filling her eyes. “Tell me you know how to fly a plane.”
He grinned, lifting her over the dead body of the pilot to sit in the cockpit. Settling his bulk into the pilot’s seat, he grabbed the stick and righted the plane. “Of course, sweetheart. I learned how to fly when I was twelve.”
“Where are we going?”
“Home.”
Whether she liked it or not.
Chapter 32
The peaceful chirp of birds filled the early hours of a Montana morning. Shane bit back a wince as Nathan finished taping his ribs. “You have the finesse of a bulldog.”
Nate stepped back, a frown on his face. “No training for a week because I’m not stitching you up again.” He glanced toward the door as Matt stalked inside, stomping his boots on the stoop first.
Matt tilted his head toward Shane. “Is he all right?”
“Yes.” Nate threw bloodied bandages into the trash. “Did you dismantle the plane?”
“Pretty much. We’ll use it for parts… can’t be traced.” Matt yanked open the refrigerator door and grabbed a beer, drinking it in three swallows.
Shane shifted on the wooden chair, his elbows resting on the round table. There was probably a smooth way to say what he needed to say, but he couldn’t find it in his head.
Matt grabbed another beer, slamming the door shut. “I can’t believe we missed the commander.” He dropped into a chair across from Shane. “Though I’m sure we’ll see him again soon.” His gaze took in Shane’s bandages. “Where’s your wife?”
“Shower.” Shane eyed the long hallway. They’d arrived at the ranch thirty minutes earlier, and she’d headed straight for warm water. “Tell me again about the security on the ranch.”
Nate nodded. “Full perimeter. Sensors, cameras, even booby traps I can deploy from here.” He leaned against the counter. “The control room is downstairs and has tunnels leading miles away in case we need to escape. I have a helicopter and three land routes out, even without the tunnels.”
Impressive. Shane nodded. “Does anyone know where you are?”
“No.” Nathan leaned back and grabbed a Guinness from the fridge. “We have office managers in New York and Chicago who report to me, but they don’t know where our headquarters is located. Nobody would even guess Rebel, Montana.” He swallowed deep and then set his bottle on the table. “Are you and your wife moving in, Shane?”
“Temporarily. Then I’ll find her a safe place.”
“No. If you’re making her family, then she’s my family, too.” Nate’s eyes darkened.
“Never alone,” Matt said quietly.
Relief and the sense of home washed through Shane. “I, ah—”
“You’re welcome,” his brothers both said quietly and in unison.
Nate sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
He did. And he knew, without a doubt, that his brother would protect Josie with his life if Shane were off on a mission.
Nathan stretched his arms. “Enough emotion—next we’re going to end up hugging and talking about our feelings. I’ve been monitoring all lines… no record of the explosion or anyone falling out of a plane.”
Shane hissed out a breath. Damn government conspirators. He’d even dropped off the body of the dead pilot near the explosion site when he’d fetched his brothers. Apparently the commander had gained some serious clout. “I talked to Malloy. He came up with some story about an anonymous tip that he checked out at the airport… and found the fire and bodies.”
“The cop is protecting us?” Matt asked, both eyebrows raised.
“Yes.” Shane stretched his hands. “Malloy’s a good guy—and he wants Josie to be safe. We’re the only ones who can guarantee that.”
Matt eyed Shane. “Well?”
“Well what?” He fought the urge to shift his weight under the watchful gaze of his older brother.
“Say what you can’t figure out how to say.” Matt took another swallow of beer.
“I think maybe Jory is alive.”
The world froze. Or maybe only his brothers stopped moving. Stopped breathing.