Page 92 of Hotter than Wildfire

And then—a miracle occurred.

He hadn’t even been watching Ellen because it hurt to see her and because every fiber of his being was caught up in Montez, in looking for the faintest hint of movement that would signal an opportunity.

Without moving a muscle, remaining a deadweight hanging from Montez’s arm, Ellen opened her eyes. Her gorgeous sea-green eyes, alive and completely aware. Montez couldn’t see her but by God Harry did. And Mike and Sam could see her, too.

The clock was up and running.

She was white-faced and terrified, with a gun pressed heavily against the skin of her temple by a maniac, but she attempted a smile, a slight movement of her lips.

And then she winked.

And Harry knew.

Everything that happened next happened in a second of blinding motion that somehow felt as if it were slow motion.

Ellen kicked Montez in the knee and threw herself forward, out onto the wing. There was no doubt that Montez would have aimed at her head and pulled the trigger, except that as Ellen was moving, in the fraction of a second in which her head cleared the muzzle, Montez’s head blew apart, and Harry was leaping to catch Ellen, ripping a flashbang off his utility belt and tossing it into the cabin, grabbing Ellen, twisting in mid-air so she’d fall on him, pulling her head into his shoulders because even at a distance the effects of a flashbang were devastating and highly painful. It went off inside the cabin and the windows glowed brightly with the flash, the 170-decibel grenade echoing loudly over the airfield.

Whoever was inside was going to be completely disoriented and would stay that way for long minutes.

Sam and Mike, cradling his rifle which Harry wanted to kiss because it was directly responsible for holding a live Ellen in his arms again, climbed up onto the wing from the roof of the SUV and dipped to enter the cabin, weapons out.

A few seconds later, another shot rang out, a pistol this time. Mike appeared immediately in the doorway. “Van der Boeke,” he said, and held up two fingers. Pilot and co-pilot. “Sam’s taking care of them.”

Van der Boeke was an experienced soldier and had recovered fast from the flashbang. But no one got the drop on Mike.

Harry ducked his head down, chin hairs catching in the flying strands of red-brown hair flowing over his chest. Ellen was trembling so hard he was afraid she’d hurt herself and tightened his arms around her.

“It’s okay,” he whispered to the top of her head. “It’s okay, it’s all over. You’re safe, we’re all safe.”

His hand was on her back and he could feel her heart fluttering with the residue of terror. She shuddered once, violently, and gasped for air.

Four big black vans came racing up, braking hard. “Go go go!” male voices chanted and men spilled out of the backs of the vans. Armed men in full gear, four turning with their backs to the them, setting up a security perimeter, the others down on one knee, rifles shouldered.

Ellen started shuddering again. “Who’s that?” her voice was panicked and he rubbed her shoulder.

“The cavalry, darling. It’s fine.” He kissed her cheek, shifting her slightly so he could lift himself up on one elbow. “Aaron!” Harry yelled.

“Yo!”

“Up here! You’re late to the party, but glad you could make it anyway. We’ve got two bad guys down. Two pilots, probably bad guys too. You sort it out.”

“Harry?” Ellen raised her head, looking him in the eyes, dashing away a tear. “Is that the FBI?”

“Otherwise known as the cavalry, yeah.”

“Gerald is dead?”

The words were music to his ears. “Oh yeah.”

“There’s another guy with him, tall, blond⁠—“

“We know all about him, honey, and he’s dead, too. The pilots will be spending the rest of their life in a cage.”

She just looked at him, wide eyes studying his. She needed to see the truth of that in him and he let her.

“So…it’s over.”

He laughed, for the first time in what felt like forever. “It’s over.”