“They come with an off button.”
Her voice came clear and wryly through his mic. Either she’d read his mind, or he’d asked the question out loud without realizing it. He wasn’t sure which possibility was more disconcerting.
“Benji, back in the car. Let’s get the rest of your clothes on.” Turning her back on her brother, she climbed into the SUV after her son.
As a constant stream of childish chatter filled his headset—Christ, that kid could talk up a storm—Mac turned the scope on the fed. The asshole was approaching Cosky, determination in every taut stride. Like he was going to get any answers from that quarter.
Jackass.
With one final sweep down the empty entrance road and the scrubby terrain surrounding him, Mac keyed his mic.
“Time to bug out,” he said quietly, knowing the chopper pilot was monitoring their frequency.
“Copy,” the vaguely familiar voice of Wolf’s pilot said. “ETA five minutes.”
The timing should be perfect. From the constant stream of babble flooding his headset, Benji was more interested in talking than dressing. But by the time the bird had warmed up and took to the air, Amy should have him bundled into his new clothes.
“You have five minutes to get that kid dressed,” Mac said.
The pilot’s ETA would have traveled down her headset as well, but with the kid talking a mile a minute, it was pure guesswork whether she’d heard it.
“Copy.”
“Copy what?” the youngster asked as the thump-thump-thump of the rotor sounded in the distance.
Amy’s stepbrother cocked his head, obviously listening. “A helicopter?” he asked Cosky. “How the hell did you manage that?”
Cosky ignored the question, and the fed stepped closer, his face hardening.
Yep. Mac grimaced. He’d called that one right, the asshole was about to become annoying.
“I’m not fucking with you, Simcosky. You and your buddies need to turn yourselves in. You aren’t doing my sister any favors by dragging her into this mess alongside you.” He reached for Cosky’s arm, but lowered his hand before making contact. “We’re looking into your commander’s claims—”
Mac snorted beneath his breath. Sure you are.
Cosky stared back, his face as hard as concrete. “The FBI has had months to investigate the attempted hijacking of flight 2077 and the events it spawned. Instead, you appear more interested in pinning everything on us. We’ll clear our names on our own.”
“Then you leave me no choice,” Clay said, reaching beneath his jacket for the weapon holstered at his side.
Instantly the sharp crack of a rifle sounded. A small circle of dust puffed up from the ground several feet in front of the asshole. The report echoed across the hillside and—surprise, surprise—the shot hadn’t come from him, or from Zane’s direction. Instead it had come from the ridge Jude was covering. Maybe the big Arapaho warrior wasn’t quite so unprepared after all.
Amy’s stepbrother froze, his hand slowly lowering. “You just fired on a federal agent. Which adds a whole new world of hurt to the charges you’re facing.”
Cosky raised a brow. “I didn’t fire on anyone.”
The fed’s voice climbed. “Amy—”
“Saw nothing,” his sister said flatly from inside the car.
The fed’s face set. “It won’t matter what either of you claim. As a federal officer, my word will be enough for a warrant.”
Cosky snorted. “In other words, you’re gonna add this new lie to the list of fairy tales you boys have drawn up.”
Mac grinned slightly at that, before swinging his rifle to the left. Amy had gotten the little guy dressed, and both children stood by her side all spiffy in their new clothes. Which was perfect, since the helicopter was approaching in the distance.
“Time to catch our ride,” he said, rising to his feet.
It took a fraction of the time to get down the hill that it had taken to get up.
“I should arrest you four right now—” Frustrated rage twisted Clay’s face, but there was no surprise as Mac and Zane joined Cosky.
“Good luck with that,” Jude said without bothering to look at the fed.
The whop-whop-whop of the chopper blades was much louder and closer. Thin trails of dust spiraled into the air.
“Momma!” Amy’s youngest went back to tugging on her T-shirt. “That’s a hellcopper.”
“Indeed it is,” Amy said in an easy voice. “How would you like to go for a ride in it?”
Mac studied her composed face. Did anyone else sense the stress beneath the veneer of calm?
“We’re taking a helicopter back?” the older, quieter kid asked, glancing up at Zane for confirmation.
“That’s right.” Zane settled a hand on the boy’s thin shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You ever been on a chopper before?”