For a second, Avery couldn’t breathe. “What?” she snapped. “Then, who’s shooting at us? Who fired that grenade?”
Noah’s tone stayed level, but she heard the frustration beneath it. “My guess is it’s on some kind of timer.”
That didn’t mean it couldn’t be just as deadly. But where the heck were the kidnappers and hostages?
“We’ve swept everything within a half-mile radius,” Noah went on. “Nothing. Either the Brotherhood moved them or this was never about the hostages at all.”
Avery’s chest tightened with fury. Her fists curled against her thighs. “They played us,” she said, her voice shaking. She snapped toward Mick. “Where are they, Mick? Where are the hostages?”
He looked terrified, his gaze darting to the window. “I don’t know,” he said. “But you need to run.”
Jackson moved fast, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. He grabbed Mick by the front of his shirt.
“Where are the hostages?” Jackson shouted.
Mick shook his head, eyes wide and frantic. “I don’t know. I told you, I don’t know.”
Jackson leaned closer, his face inches away. “You were there. You had to have seen something.”
Mick’s breath came hard and shallow. “They separated us about a half hour ago,” he said. “I heard shouting, engines. Then they were gone. I managed to cut myself loose and ran.”
“Who took them?” Jackson demanded.
Mick hesitated, and that hesitation made Avery’s skin crawl.
“Who?” Jackson snapped again.
Mick swallowed, voice breaking. “It was your boss,” he said, glancing at Avery. “Warren. Warren Sinclair.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jackson wasn’t shocked. Not really. Warren had been on the suspect list since the start, and hearing his name from Mick didn’t change that. What bothered him was how easily it came out of the kid’s mouth. Too easy.
He glanced at Avery. The accusation hadn’t surprised her either. Her expression was hard, controlled, but he saw the muscle ticking in her jaw. She’d already been bracing for it.
Still, something about Mick’s timing didn’t sit right. Maybe he was protecting someone else, his mother, Darian, or even himself. Jackson didn’t buy that this was the whole truth.
Mick slumped against the floor of the van. He was breathing hard, blood drying on his face. “You have to believe me,” he said. “Warren kidnapped me and the other two hostages.”
Jackson had a mental debate about how to handle this. A short debate since waiting around could get them killed.
“You’ll get a chance to explain everything, but not here,” Jackson told Mick, and then he looked at Isla. “Start moving. We’re sitting ducks if we stay in one spot.”
She nodded and threw the van into gear. The engine rumbled as they started back down the road, every bump and rattle setting Jackson’s nerves on edge.
Mick would need to be interrogated somewhere safe, somewhere locked down. Right now, the open road made them a perfect target.
He checked his weapon and scanned the tree line outside. They were still being hunted. He could feel it.
Jackson shoved a pile of gear out of the way and guided Mick down onto the floor between the two front seats. The kid groaned, clutching his side with his still-tied hands. He was pale and shaking, barely holding it together.
“Stay down,” Jackson ordered, bracing one hand against the seat as Isla took another hard turn. “You need a medic.” He switched to the comm. “Noah, we’ve got Mick Barker with us. He’s hurt. Could you arrange for a hospital intake in Crossfire Creek?”
Mick lifted his head, voice ragged. “No. I can’t go there. Warren will find me. The Brotherhood will find me.”
Jackson gave him a look that said don’t argue. “You need treatment.” Just in case his injuries were serious. It was hard to tell because of all the blood and bruises.
“I’ll have security waiting at the hospital when you get there,” Noah assured him. “The staff will be vetted. He’ll be protected.”
