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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 pretending to be dead, but it didn’t matter.

Not if Duncan died for real.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, he abruptly let go of the plane, falling and landing in a heap on the tarmac. Something whizzed past her head and after a few seconds it registered in a corner of her brain that one of the men from the limo was shooting at her.

Again.

“Get down,” Slade roared, grabbing her from behind.

She fell forward onto her hands and knees as Slade placed himself in front of her. Slade fired at the limo, shattering one of the windows. From where she was, she could see several things happening at once.

Colt stood and took aim, firing at the plane. Smoke billowed out from behind the aircraft, and it lurched to one side. She watched in horror as the plane crookedly descended back down to the runway.

Duncan ran toward the limo with his gun in his hand. “Police! Drop your weapons, now!”

Slade leveled his weapon. “US Marshals Service! Toss your guns down or we will shoot.”

When Colt turned, the men in the limo realized they were outnumbered. Even if they got a couple of shots off, one or more of them would die.

“Okay, okay!” Nettles caved first, tossing his gun down to the ground.

“Kick it away,” Duncan demanded.

Nettles did as he was told. Wesley Strand followed suit, tossing his weapon down and kicking it aside as well.

“Slade, take over for me. I’m going after Wolfe.” Duncan turned and headed back toward the plane that was now lopsided on the ground, like a wounded bird.

“Duncan, no! Come back!” She shouted as loud as possible, but he never hesitated, sprinting toward the plane.

“Where’s the other guy?” Slade asked, ignoring her plea. “The one Wolfe hit in the head.”

“Back there.” Nettles jerked his thumb toward the inside of the limo.

“Cover them, Colt,” Slade said. “I need to see if he’s alive.”

Chelsey pushed herself upright, her gaze following Duncan’s form as he closed the distance to the plane. After seeing how callously Wolfe had struck one of the men, sending him crashing to the ground, she knew the millionaire wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to Duncan.

Or worse.

Duncan held his gun in a two-handed grip as he approached the plane. No surprise that the bird sat there, without anyone coming out from the aircraft.

“Wolfe, I know you’re in there,” Duncan called, pressing his back against the plane. “We’ve got your cohorts in custody, so you may as well give yourself up.”

No response from the plane occupants. Duncan knew this wouldn’t be easy. The rich guy inside was accustomed to getting his way.

“Wolfe, the feds are putting you under arrest for assault and battery,” Duncan continued. “Come out with your hands up where I can see them.”

Still nothing. He wished he could hear what the conversation was inside the plane. Was Travis Wolfe trying to find a way to get out of here? There was plenty of wide-open space on the runway, but nothing could be done to fix the damaged plane.

Or did the millionaire know that Duncan didn’t have jurisdiction here in Jackson, Wyoming? He wished he’d thought of asking the US Marshals to deputize him.

The door cracked open. “Don’t shoot—I’m coming out.” Wolfe’s voice didn’t sound as curt as it had before, but Duncan didn’t think the guy was going to give up so easily.

One long leg came out, then the other. The guy jumped to the ground, then spun toward Duncan. In a nanosecond, Duncan saw the gun in his hand and pulled the trigger of his weapon.

The one that had once belonged to the guy Wolfe had struck to the ground.

Duncan ducked but there was no need as the bullet from Wolfe’s gun went wide. Then a shout of rage erupted from Wolfe.

“You shot me!” Wolfe looked shocked that anyone had dared to do such a thing. But the gun he held in his right arm was pointing to the ground now as blood dripped from a wound in his upper right arm.

The arm holding the weapon.

“Put the gun down!” Duncan repeated. “Or I’ll shoot again.”

Wolfe dropped the weapon and then reached up to cover his wound. “I’ll have your badge for this. You shot an innocent man!”

Duncan edged closer until he was able to put his foot on the gun and sweep it beneath the plane. Then he came closer still, looking Wolfe right in the eye.

“The feds are right here, and you’re under arrest for assault and conspiracy to commit murder,” Duncan said. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” He was about to continue the Miranda warning when he caught movement from the corner of his eye from inside the plane.

Glancing over, he saw the pilot was holding a gun, the muzzle pointed directly at him. Duncan froze.

“Shoot him!” Wolfe screamed. “What are you waiting for? Shoot him!”

The pilot stared at him, and Duncan refused to look away. If the guy was going to shoot, he wanted to see it in his eyes.

But the pilot looked uncertain. Duncan suspected the guy had never shot at anyone before—and hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t do so now.

Stalemate.

Long seconds ticked by, and he believed the pilot couldn’t do it. Dragging his gaze back to Wolfe, Duncan shugged. “Guess that’s not part of the plan, Wolfe.”

“I pay you to do as I say!” Wolfe hissed at the pilot.

In response, the pilot dropped the gun and placed his hands in the air. “I’m not a part of this.”

“Seems killing a man crosses the line.” Duncan gestured at Wolfe with the gun. “Turn around and put your hands up against the plane.”

“Duncan!” Chelsey’s

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