Rising Hope by Edie James

42

Enzo bracedhis feet on the floor of the speeding SUV, trying to keep his balance, and prayed. His brilliant op was not going the way he planned. First, Commander Paulson showed up out of nowhere, a federal agent in tow.

And now, the two of them were driving him away from Hope Landing. Away from Sarah and Rollo and the Knight Tactical team.

Steep slopes covered in pines and dotted with boulders the size of houses rushed past as the SUV hurtled down the highway that followed the river from Hope Landing east to Reno. The landscape couldn’t have been more different from The Cove, though the harsh natural majesty had the same feel. Come winter, the unforgiving wilderness surrounding the small town would be as deadly as a storm-tossed sea. The ocean killed with towering waves; the mountains, with ice and snow.

Enzo had his hands handcuffed behind his back in the unmarked SUV driven by the guy who’d officially taken custody of him. He couldn’t make his mind up about Paulson and his companion. Were the Knight Tactical guys right? Was Paulson part of a deal to sell intel to the cartel?

His CO barely made eye contact with Enzo until they got him into the back seat of the waiting vehicle. Even then, the man’s communications were limited to a few harsh questions about the drugs, which didn’t tell Enzo a thing. Paulson would want the drugs retrieved whether he was on the take or not.

Interesting that his CO had shown up in a flight suit, not his uniform. He must have flown the other guy in via helicopter. It made sense. The drive from The Cove would have taken seven or eight hours.

The agent took the next curve too fast, slamming Enzo into the side of the SUV’s door. His elbow connected with the armrest.

“Ouch!” he called out. “Seriously? What’s the hurry?”

While he appreciated that his plan was working, it was moving too fast. Paulson had snatched him too quickly. Sarah and Rollo and the Knight Tactical team wouldn’t have had time to get any surveillance in place.

He was on his own, with no way to let them know where these two were taking him.

Paulson flinched as the rugged scenery flashed by. “Take it down a notch,” he ordered the driver.

Enzo jutted his chin at the handgun in his CO’s hands. “How about pointing that somewhere else?”

Speaking so rudely to a superior officer—or to anyone—went against the grain, but Enzo figured his only hope was to rattle the man enough that Paulson spilled some info. They had to be close to Reno now, where Paulson undoubtedly parked a helo. By the time they reached the aircraft, he had to know which side his commander was on, and what the man planned to do with him.

Then he had to figure out a way to let Sarah and the team know. They’d be fully mobilized now, but without any idea where he was, they’d be sitting on their hands.

He’d have to think fast.

He’d have to think like Sarah.

“The drugs are close by,” he said. “You probably don’t want to take me too far away.”

Paulson’s gaze flickered over the driver before he shot Enzo a dirty look. “You’re a murderer and a liar, MacKenzie. I’m not interested in anything you have to say. I’m just doing my job. Halliburton and the team figured you’d come more quietly if I came for you. I’m kind of sorry I did.”

Yeah, well that made two of them. Enzo closed his eyes, trying to hone his senses. Was Paulson’s scorn pure bluster, maybe for the benefit of the agent in the driver’s seat? Or was his CO truly unaware of the payoff scheme?

He ground his teeth, trying not to drown in the uncertainties.

The road emptied out onto a six-lane highway that fed into an interchange. The agent took the exit for the airport and headed east, toward the small general aviation hangars that lined the runways on the opposite side of the field from the public terminals and the big passenger jets.

Paulson’s phone dinged. He nestled his gun against his outer thigh and checked his device. His lips parted and his eyes shone. He responded quickly, no more than a couple words, then pocketed the device and grabbed his weapon again.

Enzo jutted his chin at Paulson’s pocket. “What’s up?”

The other man smiled sickeningly. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Well that was a lie, if ever there was one.

Enzo fell against the door as the agent pulled the car into the lot of a commercial aviation hangar. Between the building and the runway, three good-sized charter jets awaited passengers. Down the row from the last one, at least a hundred yards, sat Station Piedras Blanca’s reserve helicopter. Enzo recognized the N-numbers on the tail.

Would he every fly one again?

A dumb thing to be worried about at the moment. Whatever happened next might offer a chance for escape.

The agent opened the side door and tugged on Enzo’s arm. “Come on.”

Paulson holstered his sidearm and led them toward the aircraft. “Uncuff him and put him in the pilot’s seat,” he instructed the other man. “He’s driving.”

The CO’s command shocked Enzo, until he realized it made a whole lot of sense. Making him fly left both of them to watch him. It wasn’t like he was going to try anything in the air.

Paulson kept an eye on him while the agent removed the cuffs and settled into a jump seat at the back of the aircraft, his handgun at the ready in case Enzo made some kind of move.

Once the man was seated, Paulson reached past Enzo and flicked off the helo’s transponder. The scent of sweat mixed with the familiar mechanical smells of oil and rubber.

That’s when Enzo knew. Paulson was definitely part of this.

The only reason to fly with the transponder off was to hide. Wherever they were taking him, Paulson, at least, didn’t want anyone else to know.

He considered lunging at the commander, but between the tight space and the armed agent behind them, attacking now would be pointless.

Panic welled up, like the heavy force of a wave. He fought down the helpless feeling. He needed to think. How could he let the team know where he was? He’d be long gone before they arrived, but it would give them a place to start. A breadcrumb.

He switched on the radio, earning him a glare from his CO.

“We’re in commercial airspace.” He gestured out the window. “No way I’m taking off without clearance.”

“Fair enough.” Paulson kept his voice low, probably hoping the agent didn’t hear them.

Enzo was thinking about all the ways this could go wrong. All the ways he could die.

“I thought you wanted the drugs,” he murmured, copying Paulson’s tone.

Paulson snorted. “You know what I want, but you’re not in a position to give it to me.”

And there it was: Paulson’s admission of guilt. The man knew about the jewels. And he didn’t want the agent in back to know.

Sick to his stomach, Enzo struggled to pretend Paulson’s slip hadn’t fazed him.

“You sure about that?” He bluffed.

Paulson jerked a thumb out the window. “You did a fine job sweet-talking your partner. She’s on her way with my stash as we speak. Or so she says. Be a good boy, and I’ll let you walk away. No one’ll be able to touch me where I’m headed.”

For the first time since his commander had taken him into custody, hope surged through him. Paulson had no idea the storm he’d soon face. There wasn’t anywhere the man could hide from Rollo and Sarah and the Knight Tactical team.

Enzo might not survive the encounter, but Sarah would. And Paulson would pay for his crimes.

Paulson kept his eyes on the other agent as he gestured at the helo’s dash. “I did an extensive pre-flight before we took off from the station. You’re good to go.”

Enzo fumbled with the shoulder harness. Anything to delay take-off. With half an ear on the chatter between air traffic control and the runways, he flicked on the various systems.

“We’ve been instructed to wait here for Special Agent Halliburton,” the agent called out from the back of the aircraft.

At the far right end of the largest runway, a 747 taxied into position for take-off, its huge engines whining. At the controller’s signal, the big jet accelerated down the runway, shaking the ground even half a mile away.

Paulson’s lips moved, but the roar of the engines swallowed his words. Enzo caught a sharp movement out of the corner of his eye.

Paulson drew his weapon and fired. The explosion hit Enzo like another blow to the head. Cordite and the sweet, coppery smell of blood filled the cabin.

Stunned, he flew to his feet, only to be jerked back by the safety restraints. “What are you doing?”

He clawed at the clasp on the harness, finally freeing himself. The agent sprawled on the floor in the aft cargo area, arms akimbo. Blood seeped from the man’s chest.

Paulson turned away from the body and glared at Enzo. “Do anything stupid, and you’re next.”