Wyoming Mountain Escape by Laura Scott (types of ebook readers .TXT) 📗

to lightly stroke her hair in a way that brought tears to her eyes, before pushing his door open. She swiped at her face and reminded herself to stay strong.

Duncan deserved to return to his family.

Once again, she made herself limp, not daring to breathe as she was removed from the SUV. Even when there was a slight bump against the back of her already sore head, she didn’t react.

She was carried inside the hangar and placed in the back of a small cargo type of plane. There, she sat up and looked around. This was the first time she’d been in a small plane, and in a private hangar. The interior of the building was rather plain, but also vaguely familiar.

Maybe from something she’d seen on television?

The pilot came over to greet Slade. “I’m Jenkins, your pilot. I need to finish my preflight checklist and we’ll be ready to go.”

“Thanks. I’m Slade Brooks, and this is Chelsey. We appreciate you changing the plane at the last minute.”

Jenkins shrugged. “It’s no problem.”

“Hey, isn’t that building over there the hangar for Travis Wolfe?” Duncan asked.

She craned her neck to see what he meant. The building was larger than the one they were currently in, but the outside was labeled with a large sign that read Wolfe Industries.

Edging out of the back of the plane, she saw the three men staring in surprise. “We should have realized there would be a private hangar for Travis Wolfe,” Duncan said in disgust. “What rich guy doesn’t own his own plane?”

“Hey, it’s a world outside my experience,” Slade commented dryly.

“I need to take a look inside the place,” Duncan said. “Could be something there to give us a clue if Travis Wolfe and his head of security, Wesley Strand, are working on the wrong side of the law with Nettles.”

Her stomach clenched with worry. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. What if you get caught?”

“I just need a minute to check the place out.” Duncan glanced at Slade. “Don’t take off with Chelsey until I’m back, okay?”

It occurred to her that they could leave while Duncan was off peeking inside the Wolfe Industries hangar. It was the best way to ensure that he didn’t try to relocate with her. But Chelsey couldn’t do it. She wanted to hug Duncan one last time. She wanted to look into his deep brown eyes and tell him how much these past few days had meant to her.

She wanted to let him know how much she loved him. And would never forget him.

“Duncan, wait,” Slade protested, but it was too late. Duncan had already edged out of the hangar, rounded the SUV and was walking purposefully toward the Wolfe Industries building.

“I’ll go with him,” Colt said. “Stay with Chelsey.”

Slade sighed heavily and she knew he was annoyed with Duncan’s determination to glimpse inside the building.

From her position in the back of the plane, she watched as Colt and Duncan made their way across the wide-open space that separated the two hangars.

The guys had just reached the edge of the building when a limo rolled into view. She hadn’t seen any limos in Jackson and knew the passenger could only be the owner himself. “Slade? What if Travis Wolfe finds them snooping around?”

Slade’s expression was grim as he picked up his phone. “Colt? You’ve got a limo driving up to the hangar.”

She couldn’t hear Colt’s reply, but could only watch in horror as Duncan and Colt dropped down behind a couple of oil drums located right outside the hangar mere seconds before the limo rolled to a stop.

What was Duncan thinking? What if he and Colt were found? It was possible that Travis Wolfe wasn’t involved in any criminal activity and would be upset only about the men snooping near his hangar, but she didn’t really believe it.

Please, Lord, keep Duncan and Colt safe in Your care!

SIXTEEN

Duncan made himself as small as possible behind the two oil drums located outside the Wolfe Industries hangar. Colt had unexpectedly joined him, and he was glad to have backup. Before taking cover, he’d gotten a glimpse of the interior of the hangar. The space was large, occupied by a plane, but there had also been a slew of boxes along one side of the building, several labeled with the Coyote Creek Construction logo.

As he hovered there behind the oil drum, Duncan slowly realized this was the same place he’d seen in Brett’s two photographs of Nettles holding a gun—one photo the gun was pointed at Perry, the other with the undercover cop lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

The shooting of Roland Perry hadn’t taken place in a company warehouse, as he’d originally assumed. It had happened right here in the Wolfe Industries airport hangar.

If only there was a way to prove it. The boxes alone wouldn’t be enough. But maybe if luminol was used on the interior of the building, they’d find Roland Perry’s blood had seeped into the concrete floor. Of course, they needed a warrant and probable cause to get that.

Was the photograph of Nettles and the dead cop standing near Coyote Creek Construction boxes enough? Probably not.

Male voices drifted toward them, and he strained to listen.

“You better hope she’s dead,” a deep, curt voice said. “I’m tired of paying for incompetence.”

She who? Chelsey? Duncan risked a glance at Colt who was listening just as intently.

“Hey, it’s not our fault she managed to get help,” a higher whiney voice complained. “We’ve lost two of our own men in this.”

“Shut up!” The deep voice struck with the force of whiplash. “Those men were stupid enough to get caught, so it’s only right that they should suffer an accident while in jail.”

Accident? Duncan’s gut clenched. Like being silenced, permanently?

“Easy, Travis...” A third calm voice seemed to be taking the role of peacekeeper.

“No, I won’t take it easy,” the deep voice snapped. “Why would you guys use hunting rifles anyway? Why not high powered AK47s with silencers attached? This