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The color drained from Claire’s face as she looked past his shoulder.
Heart pumping at breakneck speed, he spun around.
Franklin.
A makeshift white gauze bandage covered one eye, but hate glistened in the other. The big man spit out his lit cigar, cracked his knuckles and pointed at Jake. “You’re all mine.”
Claire gasped.
Operating purely on instinct, he hurled himself at the huge goon, pushing him out of the doorway. “Run, Claire!”
Her bare feet smacked against the tarmac as she cleared the doorway. Jake steamrolled Franklin, pushing him around the shed’s corner. They jostled for control, punching and grappling.
With a low growl, the big man slammed his head against Jake’s forehead. Pain spiraled through his skull and everything went black. Unable to defend himself, Franklin’s punch to the gut sent Jake to the ground on top of a pile of paint chips.
“I am going to enjoy my time with that little lady.” Franklin drove his cruel words home with a kick to Jake’s side.
His body screamed in agony, but his sight returned. Everything had a fuzzy glow to it, but he could see. The red flakes scattered on the ground in front of him made his lips curl back into a snarl. When it came to saving Claire, Jake wasn’t above fighting dirty.
Franklin stood, watching Claire as she dashed toward the baggage cart. Jake would be damned before he let Franklin harm a single strand of auburn hair on her head.
Letting out a yowl of fury, Jake swung out one leg and swept the goon off his feet. The big man landed with a thump on the tarmac. Quick as a tornado rips through a trailer park, Jake grabbed a handful of paint chips and ground them into Franklin’s good eye. The thug howled as he pawed at his injury.
Jake struggled up, his lungs heaving and head pounding. He turned in time to see Claire at the helm of the baggage cart headed straight for Burlington’s jet on the opposite side of the tarmac. She was going to get herself killed.
Sprinting toward her, he second guessed his every move since he’d arrived in Dry Creek. He’d doubted Burlington’s story about the phone’s and flash drive’s importance since the beginning, but he’d ignored his better judgment. When Burlington threatened his dad, he’d almost turned on Claire. Since he’d met her, she’d been beaten up, had her home trashed, her body drugged, her restaurant torched and now this.
Sprinting toward her, he fought past the pain cramping his side and the burning in his lungs with each ragged breath. Terror wrenched his heart apart. He’d never reach her before she smashed into the jet.
The steering wheel shook in Claire’s grasp as she bounced across the baggage cart’s seat. If the vehicle had shocks, they’d been worn off years ago and never replaced. Ignoring the beating her tailbone was taking from the jostling cart, she drove hell bent for leather toward the plane’s lowered staircase.
Tires screeched on the tarmac. The cart tipped as the right-side tires lifted off the ground and the trailer, normally filled with travelers’ luggage, weaved like a snake behind her.
Claire held her breath and squeezed her eyes tight, waiting for the whole thing to roll. For a millisecond, she thought it was all over, but the thunk of the
tires hitting the ground proved her wrong. Air whooshed out of her lungs. Tonight, she loved being wrong.
The landing threw her body up in the air, but she held on to the steering wheel for dear life. As soon as her butt hit the hard plastic seat, she hunched over the wheel and pushed the gas pedal to the floor.
“Claire!” Jake’s voice rose above the baggage cart’s rattling.
She snapped her head around in his direction. He waved his arms over his head as he dashed toward her. Franklin, the rat bastard, squirmed on the ground behind Jake. The goon had curled up in the fetal position next to the shed. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
Jake had done his part. Now it was her turn. Stiffening her shoulders, she focused in on the plane. Only open tarmac stood between her and the staircase. A shadow appeared in the plane’s doorway. Burlington. A second later, the stairs started to fold upward.
She leaned forward, willing the baggage cart to go faster, but the little engine was already giving her its all. Her heart sank. He couldn’t get away now, not when they were so close. Halfway up, the stairs stilled, just the kind of lucky break she needed. She had to aim just right. If she could damage the stairs, Burlington wouldn’t be able to close the door to take off.
Police sirens wailed in the background. Hank and his backup were almost there. They were going to do it. Burlington wouldn’t get away.
The stairs dropped a foot, stuttered, then climbed upward again. Heart hammering in her chest. The stairs cranked up higher and higher. Just as the last step was slightly lower than the cart’s hood, she rammed into the stairs.
The force of the crash slammed her chest into the steering wheel. Waves of pain undulated from her sternum as her head snapped forward. The screech of metal scraping metal reverberated down her spine. Gasping for breath, she locked her fingers around the steering wheel, afraid of being tossed from the cart. Finally, the world stopped zooming by. The stairs were to damaged to close, she’d accomplished her mission.
Hands grabbed at her, pulled her from the seat. Disoriented, she ineffectually slapped at the hard, muscular chest swimming in front of her.
“If you ever do that again, I swear to God I’ll never sit center ice with you at a hockey game.” Jake enveloped her in his arms.
Warmth that had nothing to do with the summer heat swamped her body as she melted into him. Wrapped in his solid embrace, Claire regained her bearings as sheriff’s deputies surged onto the runway with their cruisers’ lights flashing.
