He eased open the door, thanking God that it didn’t squeak.
Gripping his weapon, he led Tayla inside and shut the door. It was dark. Quiet. And eerie.
Their view of most of the hangar was blocked by the one engine plane closest to the side door.
He scanned the area around them for a place to hide Tayla. The hanger didn’t offer many options. A few feetaway was a four foot tall rolling cart of tools. And one folding chair. Not much, but it would have to do.
He motioned for Tayla to crouch behind the tool cart. She crept to the back of the cart and disappeared in its shadow.
Satisfied with Tayla’s position, he skirted the one engine plane and took in the rest of the hanger. High windows filtered in just enough moonlight to keep the expanse of the hanger from complete darkness.
He squinted in the dim light, replaying the gunshots they’d heard only seconds ago, over and over in his head. Two different weapons. He was sure of that.
He noted the outline of two more doors exiting the hangar. What if they—
“Noooo!” Tayla’s bloodcurdling scream lit his nerves on fire.
He raced to her voice, his heart threatening to kick a hole in his chest.
He found her bent over a prone, unmoving Leland. Thirteen’s body sprawled unnaturally on the floor a few feet away.
She looked up as he approached. “He’s breathing! He’s still breathing!”
He wanted to drop next to her and tend to Leland, but he needed to confirm Thirteen wasn’t a threat.
In the space of a second—as if the assassin had read his mind—Thirteen rolled to his side and pointed his gun straight at Tayla.
Jason’s world tilted.
He thrust himself between Thirteen and Tayla. And fired. A second later than Gus’s killer.
Which explained the explosion of pain in his arm.
Scanning the motionless assassin, he confirmed Thirteen was, without question, no longer a threat. He kicked the man’s gun away from his body—though entirely unnecessary.
“Jason!” The strain in Tayla’s voice pulled him to her side. He knelt beside her, his knees in Leland’s blood. His own blood running down his arm. She gaped at his wound. Color drained from her face. “You’ve been shot.”
“I’m okay. How’s Leland?”
Terror and tears welled in her eyes, but her determination rang loud and clear. “He’s going to make it. I slowed the bleeding.”
He noted her bloody hands keeping pressure on Leland’s wound. “Good work. I’m calling an ambulance. Keep pressure on it.”
“Your arm . . .” Her voice cracked.
He fumbled one-handed with his phone. Then motion to his left pulled his attention to the hanger door. Knox!
Thank you, God!
Knox took a double take at Thirteen.
“Not a threat,” Jason said.
“No kidding. How’s Leland?”
“I’m calling an ambulance. Help Tayla.”
Jason called for an ambulance, then checked Leland’s pulse. “I wish it was stronger, but it’s there. Ambulance should get here quick. We’re not far from the hospital.”
