Mick pushed himself to his knees, hands still bound, blood dripping from a cut above his eye. He looked like hell.
If this was an act, he was committed to it.
But if it wasn’t, then he was their only lead.
“All right,” Jackson said tightly. “We take him. But the second he tries anything, he’s done.”
Avery nodded, her pulse hammering. The van rolled to a stop, and every instinct in her body screamed that something was about to go very, very wrong.
Gunfire erupted again. Bullets pinged off the side of the van, sparks flashing against the metal. Avery ducked instinctively, heart hammering.
Outside, Mick was still yelling, his voice breaking. Some of the shots tore into the dirt around him, kicking up dust and gravel. Whoever was shooting wasn’t aiming to kill him. They were trying to keep him pinned.
A new sound cut through the chaos. The roar of a truck coming fast from behind them. Tires screeched, and the van shuddered as Isla threw it into neutral, ready for anything.
“Brace,” Cal said sharply. He grabbed the onboard scanner, typing fast. “Running the plates.”
A beat later, he frowned. “It’s registered to a local farmer, lives about three miles out. Not Brotherhood.”
The truck skidded to a halt on the shoulder, the driver half out of the cab, eyes wide and terrified.
“Oh, God,” Avery whispered. The man was shaking, hands raised, shouting something about hearing explosions.
“He’s just a civilian,” Jackson said.
Isla lowered her window a crack, keeping one hand on her weapon. She motioned sharply for the man to turn around and go. “Get out of here!” she shouted. “Now!”
The farmer didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped back in the truck, tires spinning as he tore off down the road.
The gunfire stopped as suddenly as it had started, leaving only the fading echo of the engine and Avery’s racing heartbeat.
Something about the silence felt worse than the bullets.
Mick finally stumbled up to the van, half-crawling, half-dragging himself through the dirt. His clothes were torn and soaked with blood, his face caked in mud. He looked one step away from collapsing.
Jackson reached over and yanked the side door open. “Move,” he barked, grabbing Mick by the arm and hauling him inside. The van rocked with the sudden weight.
Mick gasped, his voice hoarse. “Get out of here. They’ll kill us all.”
Jackson shoved him down against the floor and ran his hands over him fast, checking for weapons. “Cal, cover him.”
“I’ve got him,” Cal said, weapon trained on Mick.
“He’s clean,” Jackson muttered, pulling back. “No gun, no blade. Doesn’t mean he’s not wearing comms.”
Mick shook his head hard. “I’m not. I swear.”
Cal grabbed the detector from his kit and knelt beside him. “We’ll see about that.” He ran the scanner over Mick’s chest, arms, and legs, the small device emitting a faint hum.
Avery held her breath. The van smelled of sweat and fear. Outside, the wind carried the faint echo of something moving in the distance.
Cal looked up, frowning. “Nothing. He’s clear. No transmitters, no trackers.”
Mick’s shouting filled the van, his voice raw and frantic. “Go. You have to leave now. They’ll kill you if you stay here.”
Isla glanced at Jackson in the rearview mirror. “We can’t just—”
Before she could finish, Noah’s voice crackled in their earpieces. “Listen up. The hostages aren’t in the barn. I repeat, they’re not there. No heat sources at the rest stop either.”
