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He did a sidestep to block her path. “How come I get the feeling that you don’t like me?”
She assumed her haughtiest expression. “I can’t bear you, for a multitude of reasons. In fact, you make my skin crawl.”
He gave a soft whistle. “Listen to your smart-mouthin’.”
“Get out of my way.”
He shook his index finger inches from her face. “You were shagging that pilot, weren’t you?”
Before she could form another putdown, he was thrust forward with such force, Brynn had to leap out of the way to keep him from falling into her. As it was, he landed flat on his face, the thick rug saving his forehead from splitting open.
Rye, who’d sneaked up behind him and kicked him in his lower back, planted his boot on the back of Timmy’s neck, pinning him down. Leaning over him, he whispered, “If you utter a sound or move, I’ll break it. Swear to God, your skinny neck will snap like a wishbone.” Coming upright, he said, “Brynn, pat him down. Hurry.” Only then did she realize that Rye’s hands were bound behind him.
Without thinking twice about it, she dropped to her knees. Timmy looked at her out the corner of his eye, clearly terrified. He believed Rye’s threat. She believed it.
Timmy lay perfectly still as she searched his pockets. She found a knife in one.
“Check his ankles.”
A scabbard was strapped to his right one, a small knife in it.
“Cut these things off me,” Rye said.
Ordinarily, strong clippers were needed. Timmy’s knives were kept razor sharp. The first one Brynn applied cut through the tough plastic.
Rye said, “The reason he tried to crash my plane? The drug was never supposed to make it here.”
For a split second, Brynn’s eyes remained locked with Rye’s, but needing no further explanation for the moment, she ran to the double doors and burst through them.
Delores was about to uncap the vial.
“No!” Brynn lurched forward and rammed her shoulder into Delores. Knocked off balance, Delores careened against the IV pole, knocking it over and, in the process, dropping the vial.
Brynn caught it before it hit the floor.
“Give me that!” No longer beautiful and composed, Delores came at Brynn like an enraged she-cat. Brynn backpedaled away from her, quickly putting the vial behind her back and out of the other woman’s reach.
“Once the vial was opened, what were you going to do with it?” Brynn asked.
“No use lying.” Rye’s voice stopped whatever Delores was about to answer.
She spun around to find Timmy being held, his hands behind him and shoved up between his shoulder blades in Rye’s unyielding grip. Rye held one of Timmy’s own knives at his throat.
His punky arrogance had vanished. The young man’s eyes were wide, wild, mortally afraid. He squealed, “Tell him, you bitch.”
“Brynn, what are you doing?” Nate asked. “What is going on?”
Richard Hunt had stood, looking from Rye and Timmy, to his wife, to Brynn, who still clutched the vial in her fist behind her back.
Delores was the first to compose herself. She addressed Rye. “No doubt you’re Mr. Mallett. Such a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
“I doubt it. Why did you have him try to crash me?”
“What a ridiculous notion.”
Rye shoved Timmy’s hands up higher between his shoulders. Brynn heard his shoulder sockets pop. Timmy hollered in pain. “You lying bitch.” Timmy rolled his eyes back toward Rye. “She paid me ten grand. She wanted the airplane to crash and burn. But it didn’t, and that started all this. Yesterday, she told me to get the drug here, no matter what, so—”
“Of course I told him that,” she said, still speaking smoothly and reasonably. But Brynn detected a tension in her phony smile. “I was making every effort to save my husband’s life.”
