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Moe swayed right, grabbed the arm and twisted it up and around, jamming it high between the man’s shoulder blades.
Below him, Breely stirred and pushed to her feet. Her eyes widened when she saw Moe with her captor subdued.
She glanced around, grabbed a headset and yanked the cord out of the socket. Then she leaned over the back of the pilot’s seat, looped the cord around his neck and pulled tight. “Land! Now!” she yelled over the roar of the engine.
The pilot rocked the craft, trying to throw Breely off balance. She only pulled tighter.
Finally, the pilot lowered the helicopter, landing in the middle of the runway.
Once on the ground, she shouted into the pilot’s ear. “Shut it down! Now!”
The pilot hit switches, the engine noise died and the rotors slowed to a halt.
Within seconds, the craft was completely surrounded by airport security, sheriff’s vehicles, fire trucks, an ambulance and Stone’s black SUV.
Brotherhood Protectors piled out and ran toward the chopper. Kyla ran the other direction toward the big man Moe had pushed out of the door.
Sheriff’s deputies pointed their weapons at the helicopter as Moe pushed his guy toward the door. He shoved hard and released the man’s arm at the same time.
The guy dropped to the ground, stumbled and fell to his knees.
Moe held up his hands.
Breely stepped up beside him, her hands in the air. “Don’t let the pilot get away,” she called out.
The sheriff motioned for Moe and Breely to get out of the helicopter.
Deputies leaped in and secured the pilot.
“Sheriff Hartsell.” John Jacobs approached the sheriff, pointed at Moe and Breely, whose hands were still in the air, and said, “They’re the good guys.”
“You sure?” The sheriff’s eyes narrowed on Moe.
“Positive. Moe works for my son and the Brotherhood Protectors. The pretty one is Breely Brantt, Robert Brantt’s daughter. You might not want to point that gun at her. If it goes off, you’ll have a helluva a lot to explain to her father.”
The sheriff turned his weapon toward the man kneeling on the ground. One of his deputies had secured the man’s wrists behind his back. “And who is this?”
Breely walked around to stand in front of the brown-haired man. “Dillon Sarley. He worked for my father until he was caught stealing money out of my father’s office. Daddy never should’ve let you slide. You should’ve gone to jail back then.”
“He’s a stupid, gullible man,” Dillon snarled. “He didn’t need the money. He’s loaded.”
“And you needed the money to buy a fancy Corvette?” Breely shook her head. “How did you pay for it? You got it before you could ransom me.”
He snorted. “I wasn’t going to ransom you. I got paid a butt load just to get you on this helicopter.”
Moe stood beside Breely. “Who paid you?”
Dillon spat at Moe’s boots. “Why should I tell you?”
“Why shouldn’t you?” Moe cocked an eyebrow.
Dillon shrugged. “I prefer to live.”
“I hope you enjoy life in jail,” Moe said. “It’s not any safer there than out here. And if the right rumor is spread, the prisoners will make sure certain people are taken care of.”
Dillon’s eyes narrowed.
“I don’t care either way.” Moe slipped his arm around Breely. “Salazar’s going to lose the election. The cartel will cut his funding, and he’ll either be run out of Venezuela or killed.”
