“So either you lower your weapon, or I’ll kill the woman you love.”
Sam parked in front of the nose, not giving the plane any space to manoeuvre. Nhiari couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the engine as she leapt out of the car with Sherlock.
Nhiari focused on Lucas lying on the ground in front of her, one hand on his knee, his gun raised. Shit. Before she could raise her gun, Sherlock shot twice, and Lucas lay dead on the ground.
Where was Lee?
She looked up into the plane cockpit and saw a female pilot behind the controls. In the glow of lights, she spotted a man standing behind her.
Lee.
Why was Lee in the plane when Lucas was on the ground? Hadn’t his goal been to stop Lucas?
Or was this all a lie?
The door to the plane was still open and Sherlock strode around Lucas’s car, checking to make sure it was clear.
A quick glance showed a bag of treasure on the ground.
Where was the rest?
As she stepped out from behind the car, there was an explosion of glass and she stumbled as something slammed into her side. She gasped for breath, hand going to the hot bullet in her vest.
She looked up, saw Lee with his gun raised pointed at her.
He’d shot her.
Disbelief filled her as Sam swept around the front of the car, grabbed her arm and dragged her under the cover of the plane.
“Lee…and pilot…inside.” She tried to take deep breaths, but the impact and shock of everything made it difficult to inhale.Leehad shot her.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Hit the vest.” She’d have the mother of all bruises tomorrow, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.
Sherlock joined them. “They won’t be going anywhere with a hole in the windscreen,” he yelled.
They. Lee and the female pilot. Her uncertainty vanished. The heartbreak threatened to steal her remaining breath.
“Nhiari.” Sam shook her, and she blinked. “You all right?”
She pushed the pain away. She had a job to do. “Yeah,” she yelled back.
They moved down the back of the plane so they could hear a little easier and put their heads together.
“Who shot you?” Sherlock asked.
“Lee.”
Both men’s eyes widened and Sam felt her vest. “He could have aimed for your head.”
Meaning what—he hadn’t wanted to hurt her? Which meant he was still playing the game. Or she was grasping at straws.
“Two potential exits,” Sherlock called. “Windscreen and door.”
Of course. “Two vehicles,” she added, not allowing herself to hope.
Sam shot out two tyres of Lucas’s car. “One.” He slipped a fresh magazine into his gun. “Anyone else in the plane?”
