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Chapter Fifteen
Jackson squeezed his eyes closed. I love you, Isabel. He launched to his feet, grabbing the nose of the rifle and jerking it toward the sky. Still forcing the gun away from him, he swept his leg out in front of him and hooked his foot on the back of the gunman’s calf. Using all his strength, he yanked and his attacker lost his balance. Jackson had but a moment to surge forward, taking advantage of this guy’s unsteadiness, and bring the asshole to the ground. He twisted the rifle free and used the butt end of it to crack at least a few of his assailant’s ribs. For good measure, he kicked at the man’s bandaged arm, pulling a howl of pain from the guy.
Angling the nose of the rifle at the man, Jackson said, “Now where are the goddamn keys?”
The man put his hands up then slowly moved one to his belt. He unclipped a set of keys and threw them so Jackson had to scramble after them. He stumbled to his knees, put down the rifle, and scooped up the keys, but a pair of boots stepped on his hand, grinding the keys into his palm.
He bit his bottom lip to keep from screaming as the metal gouged his flesh. Looking up, Jackson found Ward grinning down at him while an all-out war rumbled around them between the police and Ward’s team members.
“I never liked you, Henley,” Ward said. “You’ve put some extremely valuable pieces under museum care. Pieces I could have sold for billions. Preserving history is nice and all, but lining pockets is way more practical.”
Jackson made a move to rip his hand free, but a click had him freezing. Slowly he looked up to stare down another gun barrel, this one a small handgun Ward held.
“You’ve gotten away with a lot so far,” Jackson said. “But I doubt murder will be so easily hidden.” He waved his free hand to the scene around him. “Especially with all these cops around.”
“These cops appear to be pretty well distracted by my team,” Ward said. “Besides, my people are well paid to tell my version of events. I’m not concerned.”
Jackson was concerned, however. Extremely. Isabel and Eugene were still stuck in that underground cell. Chaos had broken out around him. Donovan was in the fray somewhere. Ward planned to kill him. If he didn’t turn things around here, tragedy would win the day.
Ward increased the pressure of his foot on Jackson’s hand, crushing his knuckles and making those keys tear into his palm. A strangled howl tore from Jackson’s throat.
No. Wait. That wasn’t a human howl.
With a growl worthy of a werewolf, Blaze launched himself onto Ward’s back, making the man hunch forward. It was enough of a move to free Jackson’s hand. Jackson leaped to his feet, ready to join Blaze in taking Ward down, but a shot sounded behind him and searing pain lanced through Jackson’s left shoulder. He slapped his hand to the ache, his palm coming away bloody. The team member he’d tripped to the ground sneered at him, the rifle in his hands, then the guy passed out.
“Fuck!” The wound wasn’t enough to take Jackson out of the fight, but it hurt like hell, reduced his arm mobility, and did wonders to bring a dormant beast in him raging to the surface.
He charged Ward while Blaze bit at anything he could reach. Knocking the man to the ground and grabbing the handgun, Jackson ignored the fire in his shoulder, the blood soaking his T-shirt, and the pain in his gouged hand. He pressed the gun to Ward’s throat as he held the man down with his knee to Ward’s chest.
“The only thing these excavators are going to dig, Ward,” Jackson said, “is your fucking grave.” He was about to pull the trigger and give the world one less asshole to worry about, but a loud, rhythmic pulse filled the sky above the campsite. Squinting into the sun, Jackson made out four helicopters hovering overhead. They lowered and uniformed, armed soldiers poured out of three of the choppers. They fanned out, taking control of the situation.
The fourth bird—a smaller, non-military one—landed, its rotors stirring up dirt then winding down to a stop. The pilot jumped out and looked around.
“What is this? A live-action video game?”
“Charlie?” Jackson got to his feet as two soldiers grabbed Ward and yanked him to his feet. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Saving the day apparently.” She pulled a pair of sunglasses up, pushing her short black hair away from her face. “Though it seems you had the villain all handled. Very good.” She gestured to Ward being carted away as Blaze snarled and nipped at the man’s legs.
“How did you...?” Jackson’s brain felt like oatmeal, his shoulder had a five-alarm blaze happening inside it, and his hands shook. He’d almost pulled the trigger on Ward. He’d almost killed a guy.
For Eugene. For Isabel.
“I have a police scanner because I help out on rescues and shit,” Charlie said. “When I heard the deets about all this,” she said as she waved a hand to soldiers and police officers rounding up team members, “I didn’t like how close it was to Eugene’s property. When I called Pine River Cottages, Eugene, and Isabel and didn’t get replies, I knew something bad was going down.”
“So you brought the military?”
“Hey, I have friends in high places.” Charlie shrugged. “Now let’s get you some medical attention.”
“No.” Jackson whipped around and searched the ground. Finding the keys, he grabbed them. “Eugene and Isabel need help first.” He hurried to the hatch and dropped to his knees, feeling a little dizzy when blood dripped from his shoulder and hand and hit the hatch door.
Grinding his teeth against the pain and nausea, Jackson used one hand to try a few keys until he found the one that fit. Charlie grabbed the ring on the door and pulled the hatch open.
“Isabel!” Jackson shouted into the darkness.
Light hit her face when Charlie shined her phone flashlight into the cell. “Jackson?”
“Hey, we need a hand over here!” Charlie yelled to a nearby soldier.
