“Definitely low and slow,” Hew’s hushed voice came to Britt through the darkness. “It’s a single engine, not a double. So we’re probably talking a Bell 407 or maybe a 412.”
“Load?” Britt asked.
Hew didn’t need him to elaborate. They’d worked together long enough in unfriendly environments to develop a shorthand. “I’d say anywhere between six and ten agents, plus the pilot and copilot.”
“Fuck.”
“Wh-what’s happening?” Sabrina's voice was high with alarm.
“A chopper is hunting us,” Hew answered. “Filled with FBI agents, no doubt.”
Britt’s eyes sightlessly darted back and forth as he calculated their odds and decided they were scantily low on options. Thankfully, being low on options wasn’t always a bad thing. Being low on options meant he didn’t have to waste time deciding what to do next.
Unhooking the carrying case on his belt, he told Hew, “Here. Take the encrypted phone. The GPS is programmed for Hunter’s cabin. You’ll be there in under an hour if you keep up the pace we had going.”
“Wait. What?” Knox demanded, and Britt heard thesnickhis brother’s helmet made when he slammed up his visor. “What’s happening?”
“I’m going to draw the feds away,” Britt explained, quickly slipping on his helmet and resecuring the chin strap. “Y’all are going to stay here until it’s safe to move, and then you’ll head on to the cabin. Hew? You got a flashlight on you?” He toed out his kickstand and hopped off Haint.
“Copy that,” Hew said, and Britt could hear his teammate climbing off his ride and unhooking the clasps on his tour pack. Ten seconds later, Hew shoved a heavy Maglite into his hand.
“Thanks,” Britt muttered as he quickly pulled his own flashlight out of his left saddlebag along with a roll of duct tape.
Men who relied on their gear to keep them alive knew nothing was better than good old duct tape for quick fixes.
He taped Hew’s Maglite to his rear fender with the bulb end facing the front of the bike. Then he secured his flashlight to his left wrist.
“How far back was that side road?” he asked Hew, his eyes adjusting to the darkness enough to show his companions as gray shadows moving against the black shadows of the forest.
“A mile?” Hew speculated. “Maybe a little more.”
“I’ll try to keep them occupied for as long as possible. When you think it’s safe to move, do it. And don’t look back.” He stared hard at Hew’s massive, gray hulk. “I’m depending on you, man.”
“Nowwho’s glad I came along, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Britt straddled Haint and maneuvered the bike until it was alongside the other two motorcycles, facing the direction from which they’d come. “I owe you one.”
“One?”
“Fine. Half a dozen.”
“That’s better.” Hew sounded pleased with the prospect.
“Okay.” Britt took one more deep breath. “Everyone has their marching orders. Let’s do this.”
He went to snap on Hew’s Maglite, but Knox stopped him with a hand on his arm. “This isn’t your fight, Britt.” Again with his given name. A lump formed in Britt’s throat. “Maybe we should just?—”
“If the feds catch you or Sabrina, there’s no guarantee you’ll survive the encounter,” Britt interrupted. “Me? I’ve got a better chance.”
“Because of the whole special operations soldier thing?”
“Something like that,” Britt admitted evasively, not mentioning that he had friends in high places if worse came to worst.
Madam President had made it clear she would disavow all knowledge of Black Knights Inc. if the truth about the group ever came to light. But that didn’t mean the leader of the free world wouldn’t step up to help the Knights through back channels and by using surrogate actors when they asked her to.
If Britt managed to get himself caught and held by the bureau, everyone back at Black Knights Inc. would make it their mission not to let the president rest until she found a way to set him free again.
“I fucking hate this,” Knox said.
