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In the corner of the hangar, the man Joe had shot in the leg when he was still in the car, sat pressing a cloth to his wound and moaning for help. Esteban walked up to his man, who was stupid enough to look hopeful at the sight of his boss. Esteban shot the wounded man in the head.
“Weak,” he spat.
Joe inched further into the cavernous space, making sure he kept the two-seater plane between himself and Esteban. The noise of gunfire covered any sound he might have made.
Esteban pulled out his phone, and Joe sneaked closer, looking for a good shot.
“We need reinforcements. Now!” Esteban didn’t even wait for a reply. In his arrogance, he assumed his people would jump to fulfil his wishes.
He spun, catching sight of Joe as he rounded the plane. Esteban’s gun came up, and he fired. Joe dove for the tatty old sofa someone had put in the corner at the back of the hangar. There weren’t many options in the way of cover inside the space.
“Give it up,” he called to Esteban. “Your men are dead. You have nowhere to go. You can’t get out of here alive. Surrender and you keep your life.”
A burst of machine-gun fire erupted outside and echoed through the room.
“Does that sound like my men are dead?” More shots hit the sofa as Joe ducked down low and tried to make himself as small a target as possible.
He peeked out and saw Esteban was slowly making his way to the wide open doors and his escape. Joe fired. Two shots. He’d emptied his spare clip. He was out of ammunition. He chanced a glance at the dead man on the other side of the hangar. A gun lay beside him. If he could get to it…
“This is my treasure. Mine! You dare to come into my country and take what belongs to me? This is my country. I am the power here. You are nothing.” Two more shots hit the sofa, one perilously close to Joe’s head.
He had no option—he had to make a run for the dead man’s gun. Mind made up, Joe sprinted for the other side of the hangar, bullets spraying the wall behind him. He glanced at Esteban. That was when he saw a line of fire race up the fuel that leaked from the plane. It was heading straight for a tank full of fumes.
Joe abandoned his attempt to get the dead man’s gun, and veered to the left instead. He bolted for door at the back of the hangar. Shots rang out. He felt a bite to his shoulder. He barely noticed. He was out the door in record time, running for the low concrete wall that ran around the hangar. There was an almighty blast. Joe felt a full body punch hit him in the back. He was flung into the air, as the sky over the airfield turned black.
“Joe!”
Julia didn’t care about bullets or gunmen or danger. All she cared about was Joe. He’d been in the hangar
. The hangar that was now a blazing pile of rubble and twisted metal. She was running around the car, heading for the blaze before anyone could stop her.
A man with a gun, dazed and dangerous, staggered towards her. A shot rang out and he crumpled. Callum. The horror of seeing the man die wasn’t enough to stop her from running straight at the fire. She waved smoke out of her eyes, but it made no difference. The thick black plume was being carried over the area by the breeze.
“Stop her,” someone shouted. Callum, she thought.
A strong arm hooked around her waist. “Don’t be dumb,” Ryan said as he held her tight. “You can’t run into a fire.”
Her eyes were fixed on the mass of debris that used to be a building. Jagged pieces of warped metal. Remnants of walls that now lay crumpled. And parts of the plane that had exploded. She struggled against Ryan’s hold.
“We need to get Joe!”
“I saw him run out.” Ryan’s words made her stop.
Hope was a flame that burned hotter than the blaze in front of her.
“Where?”
“Come on.” He tugged her towards the road side of the building.
Part of the plane’s wing was in their path, and they skirted it. What looked like the remnants of an old sofa lay propped up against a low concrete wall, dropped there by the blast.
And behind it all, lying on his back, was Joe.
Julia shrugged out from under Ryan’s hold and ran for Joe. She fell to her knees beside him and cradled his blackened cheeks. There were cuts and scrapes all over him.
“Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay…” she chanted as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Oh God, please don’t let him die.” Her vision blurred and she realised she was crying. Again.
Joe stirred under her touch and groaned.
