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As she expected, three familiar shapes hustled out of the vehicle, no child between them.
Bridger stepped in front of her. “No kid, no deal.”
He reached back for Jane’s hand. “We’re out of here,” he announced and tugged her toward the tree line.
The leader smirked, pulling off his dark aviator glasses exposing small, mean eyes. “Never pictured you as an actor, North. You can stop with the theatrics.”
“And you can stop wasting our time,” Bridger called out.
“Stop,” Bronski yelled. “Show them,” he ordered his men.
The two behind him pulled open the passenger door.
Jane bit back a whimper. Maybe they did bring Kellen. She told herself she wouldn’t run to him. Wouldn’t make either of them a target. She’d wait, calmly, ready to scoop him up in a hug, and––
The agents yanked a man out of the vehicle. A slender man with a black hood over his head.
Bronski stared Jane straight in the face. “No more stalling. We know you have access to the money, and we want it. Now.”
He jerked his head in a silent command. One of the others pulled off the captive’s hood. The prisoner ducked away from the light, his face battered and bloody.
Pete.
28
The truck stoploomed empty and dark, the only light coming from a flickering bulb over the gas pumps. Ignoring Pete’s condition, Bridger scanned the shadows, senses on high alert. Jane stood rigid beside him, green eyes fixed on her scheming ex.
Bronski made a rolling motion with his hand. “Let’s move this along. Hand over the thumb drive.”
Bridger clenched his jaw, fingers twitching near the pistol holstered at the base of his spine. “Sit rep,” he requested, barely moving his lips.
“All quiet,” Tai responded tersely in his earpiece. “It’s just the four of them. The tall, ugly dude must be guarding the kid.”
The team was fanned out, drones and rifles at the ready. Mason and Tai would have the feds in their sights, but they couldn’t make a move with Kellen’s life hanging in the balance.
“Proof of life,” Bridger ordered. “Now.”
Pete glared, his swollen jaw jutting forward. “You honestly think I’d let anyone harm Kellen?”
Bridger laughed sourly. “You don’t want me to answer that. Seriously, you don’t.”
“These men are government agents,” Jane’s ex insisted. “They have him in protective custody.”
And I’m Santa Claus, Bridger thought to himself.
He widened his stance, crossing his arms over his chest. “Whatever. No proof of life, no money. Let me know when you dudes figure it out.”
Bronski spat and stabbed the screen on his phone. “Yeah, yeah.”
Jane’s phone pinged. She jumped, fumbling to pull it from her pocket. Bridger kept one eye on the road as she tapped at the screen.
“It’s a video file,” she said.
“Play it,” Bridger ordered.
Jane angled the phone so they could both see the small screen. Grainy footage showed a nondescript motel room, cinderblock walls, two beds and a TV on the low dresser. A pizza box sat open on the table by the one window. After a moment, a door opened and Kellen shuffled in, escorted by an agent in a dark suit.
Jane moaned softly, pressing a fist against her lips.
