She bit her lip. She knew he believed that. That he’d been shattered in that cell, watching his friends die. “Not broken, Boone. Bent, cracked, beaten, but not broken.”
He stroked her cheekbone. “You actually make me believe that.” He blew out a breath. “The safest thing is for you to get on that jet.”
Sadness filled her. “I know.”
“After all this is over, then…we’ll see.”
It wasn’t a promise, but it was something. A part of her was deathly afraid that after she was gone, and once he was back in Vermont, he’d forget about her. Too many people in her life had always found her lacking.
He pressed a firm kiss to her lips. “Let’s go, or we’ll be late.”
She settled back in her seat while Boone called for Atlas.
They were quiet as they passed through the security check at the gate, and drove into the quiet corner of the airport where the private jet hangers were located.
She recognized the Expanse jet out on the tarmac. There were several men in suits standing at the base of the stairs.
Boone drove in slowly and stopped.
“I guess this is it.” She tried to sound cheery. “Bye, Atlas.” As she gave the dog a vigorous final pat, Atlas whined softly.
Boone climbed out, circled the truck, and opened her door. She saw him eyeing her dad’s men. She recognized a couple of them.
Gold-brown eyes met hers. “Stay safe.”
“You too.” Her throat was so tight it was hard to talk.
She’d just stepped out of the truck when she heard the crack of a gunshot.
Then another.
Gemma blinked and saw two of the security guards fall.
“Sniper!” Boone yelled.
The truck window on the passenger side shattered, showering them with glass. Boone dragged her down, covering her with his body.
There were more gunshots, and she heard the squeal of tires. She glanced up and saw a black SUV speeding toward them.
“In.” Boone shoved her into the truck. Atlas growled, staying low. “Stay down.” Boone shoved past her, sliding across the seats, and got behind the wheel.
There was more gunfire. The back window of the truck shattered, and Boone cursed.
The engine started, and they sped forward. He yanked the wheel, the tires screeching as they turned.
Gemma stayed in a tight ball with her head down. She had no idea what was happening. The last thing she wanted to do was distract Boone. She gripped Atlas’ fur and held on.
Boone kept driving. Eventually, there was no more gunfire.
“You can sit up.”
Gingerly, she sat up and saw they were on the road heading away from the airport. She felt shaky and pressed a hand to her chest. “Are they following us?”
“I lost them. Open the glove box for me. There’s a clean burner phone in there. Hand it to me.”
His voice was clipped, and she knew he was in fight mode. She pulled out the cellphone and handed it to him.
He held it to his ear. “Vander, we were ambushed at the airport. Some of Newhouse’s security team were killed. Yeah, she’s okay.” There was a pause. “Okay.” Another pause. “Roger that. I will.” He ended the call and glanced her way. “Vander has a contact in Denver who can help us. They’ll give us a clean vehicle and supplies.”
Gemma was pretty sure Boone’s idea of supplies meant weapons.
His gaze locked on hers. “You’re staying with me.”
Boone had been to Denver a few times and knew the roads pretty well. As he drove into the city center, he kept checking the mirrors for a tail.
Beside him, Gemma seemed all right. Although, he noted, she kept a hand clenched on Atlas. Her courage amazed him. He knew most people would have crumpled under the stress of her situation by now.
“Who’s this friend of Vander’s that we’re meeting?” Gemma asked.
“A security firm. They usually provide security for archeological digs and expeditions. They’re called Treasure Hunter Security.”
“I wanted to be an archeologist when I was young. Finding lost temples and fabulous treasures.”
Boone snorted. “I think that usually only happens in the movies.”
“Well, Dad steered me away from studying history.”
Boone frowned. He was starting to think he didn’t like Paul Newhouse very much.
Finally, he neared the address Vander had given him in the lower downtown area of Denver. LoDo had a lot of renovated historic warehouses and was home to Union Station and the baseball stadium.
He turned into a narrow alley and then stopped. He cut the lights. “This is the place.”
“Now what?” she asked.
“Someone’s going to meet us.” As he got out, he glanced around and didn’t see any CCTV cameras. He helped Gemma out of the truck.
A man emerged from the shadows. He was tall and fit, wearing tan cargo pants and a black Henley.
Boone tensed, ready to go for his Glock.
“Hendrix?”
Boone nodded. “Call me Boone. You’re Declan Ward?”
“Yeah.” The man walked closer and held out a hand. They shook.
Boone could have picked the guy as a former Navy SEAL in a heartbeat, even if Vander hadn’t already told him. “This is Gemma.”
Declan nodded. “Heard you’ve had a rough few days.”
Gemma pulled a face. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
Declan’s lips twitched. “I’ve had a few days like that myself. Come on.” He paused as Atlas leaped out of the truck. “Who is this?”
“My dog, Atlas.”
“He’s a good-looking dog.” Declan met Boone’s gaze. “And looks well-trained.”
“He is, but he’s retired, so he isn’t above begging for food or back scratches.”
Declan chuckled. “Grab anything you need. I’ll have one of my team take care of your truck.”
“The people after Gemma will be looking for us, and they’ve proved to be damn good at tracking us down. They clearly have resources.”
The other man nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of it, and my tech whiz has been scrubbing security feed of you driving into LoDo. These guys won’t be able to find you.”
“Thank you,” Gemma said quietly.
They followed Declan onto the street and walked one block over. Boone noted the path the man took avoided any cameras. He led them to a building that looked like it had once been an old factory, but now had lots of big windows that no doubt gave a good view of the city and mountains in the daytime.
Declan held the door open for them. Inside, Atlas’ claws clicked on the concrete floor. They passed an empty reception desk and stepped into a cavernous space. There was a conference table closest to them, some couches grouped around a large coffee table. By the bank of large windows sat a pool table and an air hockey table. Flat screens covered the far brick wall—most were dark at the moment, but a few were still filled with information. Desks sat in front of the screens, all covered in high-end computers.
A man who looked similar in build and looks to Declan leaned against one desk, a little girl with pigtails in his arms. There were two women with him. A tall woman with dark, curly hair stood close to his side, tickling the little girl. The other woman sat in a chair at a computer, her dark hair in a sleek cut that brushed her jaw line. She was busy tapping on the keyboard.