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

has been nothing but a debacle from the beginning. It’s a wonder you were able to hit Thompson the way you did.”

The reference to Brett’s murder made Duncan’s blood run cold. He peered around the edge of the oil drum just far enough to see four men standing there. He easily recognized three of them from the photos—Anthony Nettles, Wesley Strand and Travis Wolfe. The fourth man was standing apart from the other three, keeping his head down and shoulders slouched as if he were the low man on the totem pole in the group.

The guy with his head down turned so that Duncan could see his profile. Wait a minute. Duncan narrowed his gaze, wishing he had a pair of binoculars. The longer he looked, the more convinced he became that the fourth guy was the same one who’d attacked him on the side of the mountain. At least he was fairly certain. Even from a distance he could see the fresh wound along his temple. The spot where Chelsey had hit him with the log during their struggle with the knife.

He eased back behind the drum and glanced at Colt. “They’re in it together,” he said in a whisper. “The guy with the whiney voice and head down is the same one who attacked me on the mountain.”

Colt nodded to indicate he understood.

“A hunting rifle doesn’t raise suspicion. Every man in Wyoming has one,” the whiney voice said. “But anyone catching a glimpse of a fancy AK47 would blab to the entire town.”

“I told you to shut up!” Wolfe sounded as if he had reached his limit.

“Okay, Travis, you have a right to be upset. But the woman is dead and we’ll get the property, which is what you wanted, right?”

“Right.” Wolfe’s tone had lost some of its edge. “I’m getting out of here until things cool off. The rest of you better keep your heads down and eyes open. Those guys who were helping the woman are law enforcement of some kind and might stick around to find out what happened to her.”

“Not to worry, we have inside help, remember?” The nasal voice must belong to Nettles, it was the first thing the guy had said since they’d arrived.

“Yes, inside help that I’m paying for,” Wolfe responded harshly. “I’m funding all of this, so you guys better hold up your end of the deal.”

Duncan realized this was exactly what they needed to nail these guys once and for all. Easing his phone out of his pocket, he held it along the edge of the oil drum, much the way Brett must have done a few weeks ago, and took pictures of the four men standing outside the hangar.

The only downside he could see was that he and Colt might be trespassing, although he felt certain the hangar itself might belong to the airport. Still, it was something that could get their testimony tossed out of a courtroom by a smart lawyer, one he assumed Wolfe had on speed dial.

He thought about the boxes inside the hangar and wondered what Coyote Creek Construction was shipping in or out of the state of Wyoming.

They needed something, anything to use as probable cause to search the place.

But what?

“What did you do with the hunting rifle, Stewart?” the calm voice asked.

“I—uh, still have it,” whiney voice replied. “But I can get rid of it if you’d like.”

“Why would you keep it?” Wolfe’s tone was incredulous. “How incompetent are you?”

The sound of a fist striking skin followed by a muffled thud reached his ears. Duncan risked another glance around the drum to see someone lying on the concrete. Stewart, aka whiney voice.

One of the three men in charge had hit the underling hard enough to knock him unconscious.

And if he and Colt didn’t do something, then there was nothing to stop them from killing him.

“Get rid of him,” Wolfe said tersely. “I’m done here. Call me when you manage to get everything under control.”

Duncan tensed. Wolfe was going to get on his personal plane and get out of Wyoming unless they found a way to keep him there.

But how?

There was a scuffle as Stewart was picked up off the ground and tossed in the back of the limo. Duncan risked another glance around the oil drum and couldn’t see Travis Wolfe anywhere. He must have gone deeper into the hangar.

The other two men slid into the back of the limo as ordered. He eased back and glanced at Colt. “You take the limo, I’ll try to delay the plane.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Duncan shook his head because he didn’t have an answer. All he knew was that if Wolfe took off, then their chances of getting him in custody dropped significantly.

Duncan took a deep breath and lunged from behind the oil drums. Without hesitation, he darted inside the hangar as the plane began to roll past.

Without thinking, he grabbed onto one of the wings, as if his weight would be enough to stop it.

But of course, it wasn’t.

Someone from the limo must have noticed him dangling from the wing of the plane like a broken hood ornament because he heard someone yell out, “Hey! That’s the guy who’s been protecting the woman!”

He couldn’t hear anything beyond the roar of the airplane engines as the plane gained speed. He mentally braced himself, expecting at any moment to feel the searing pain from a bullet.

Chelsey watched the drama unfold with disbelief. What was Duncan doing hanging from the plane?

In some part of her mind she heard Slade calling the police even though they had no idea who within the department they could trust. She jumped down from the back of the cargo plane, the jarring movement causing her head and ribs to protest with pain.

It wasn’t easy to catch her breath, but she didn’t care. She sprinted out of the hangar toward the limo that had come to an abrupt stop.

“What in the—she’s alive?” someone shouted incredulously.

She’d blown her cover of