“Oh, good,” Lea said, “they’re already here.”

Good? Kalani felt the molten lava of fear collecting and burning at the pit of her stomach. They’d been walking toward Hangar 10A, and with each step, Kalani was more inclined to do something drastic and stupid. Reach for the gun that Lea had tucked into her jeans, maybe point it at her, maybe just run away with it. Run back to the car, back to Ethan.

She should have taken that gun a long time ago, certainly before walking onto the tarmac. Certainly before walking so close to the hangar where Lea’s “contact” was waiting.

“I don’t think we’ll be too long,” Lea said. “They’ll want to come back with us and see Ethan.”

“It’s been too long already.”

“I guess it sort of feels that way,” Lea said with a laugh, “when you’ve got a guy like Ethan tied up in a straitjacket in the back seat, coming off a pretty wicked dose of fentanyl.”

“I thought they wanted him on the plane,” Kalani said.

“They do,” Lea said. “We’re just waiting for them to open the gate.”

More lava at Kalani’s stomach. An overflow, reflux up her throat. She almost stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the open hangar door, the small prop plane waiting inside. A man in a suit and tie walking slowly down the stairs from the cockpit.

“Well, there he is,” Lea said, her tone wistful. “The man himself. Mr. Dunhill.”

“Is that your contact?” Kalani had never seen him before.

“That’s the boss of my boss,” Lea said.

“The boss of the captain?” Kalani had met the captain. She wished she hadn’t. She wished that Lea hadn’t, either, but nothing in her world had ever been perfect.

“Think he’ll be mad?” Kalani said. “About Ethan?”

“No, he’s a bonus.”

Now Kalani really wanted to take Lea’s gun. Take the gun and maybe punch her in the face.

Patience . . . See it through . . .

“He won’t be hurt or anything, right?”

“They’ll just want to ask about Jackson. They want Jackson, not Ethan. They don’t even want Tucker. He’s just bait.”

“Bait for Jackson?”

“Who do you think?”

“And Tucker’s partner? The CIA agent from Africa?”

“Lani, stop.”

She couldn’t help asking the barrage of questions. The closer she got to the hangar, the fewer answers she’d ever get.

She could back out. She could just turn around and run back to the car . . .

“We’ll be out of here fast,” Lea said. “What they won’t like is Ethan just sitting in the car . . .”

They walked inside the hangar. Mr. Dunhill’s smile looked horrific under the old and discolored fluorescent lighting. No amount of nice clothing and close grooming could take away the motley effect of the random gaps in his smile. Missing teeth. The ones he did have were yellow, with or without the yellow lighting above.

“So glad you could make it,” he said. “And with company, too.”

“Yeah,” Lea said. “This is Kalani. Kalani, meet Mr.—”

“No, I mean in the car,” he said, his smile suddenly fading. “I’ve been told you have some extra cargo. Another one of Archer’s lackeys?”

Grab the gun, point it at his horrific smile and—

“We’ll get to that in a minute,” Lea said. “First, let’s go over the deal with Kalani here. She’s more important than any lackey.”

“I suppose.”

“How did you know about the lackey?” Kalani said, staring into Dunhill’s eyes. She refused to look away, despite his smiling leer.

“Pardon me?”

“How did you know about Ethan?” Then Kalani looked at her sister. How was it possible? She hadn’t seen Lea make any phone calls . . .

“I’ve got eyes,” Dunhill said, “everywhere.”

His voice sent shivers down Kalani’s spine. Mr. Dunhill was in charge of one of the country’s largest—and now most criminal—private security companies. Their sheer size made DARC Ops look like an after-school club. But it also made Kalani feel incredibly stupid for going along with her sister to the hangar. The air there had a still quiet about it, like in a slaughterhouse at shift change.

“Is he in there?” Lea said in almost a whisper. “Tucker?”

Kalani jolted. She’d known all along. When would that stop surprising her? She pictured him hog-tied. She could almost feel the ropes around her body.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dunhill said with a smile.

“So, what’s this deal you were talking about?” Kalani said. She had to figure out how best to play the game. Right that second.

“You’re in quite the hurry.”

“Well,” she said, trying desperately to feign a state of calm. “We’ve got someone sleeping in our car right now. I think it would be best to figure this out as fast as possible.”

“What do you think of the plane?” Dunhill said.

“It’s a nice plane.”

“It’s our escape,” he said.

Kalani thought about radar and air traffic networks. How did he plan to escape anything up in the air? But she didn’t ask that. Instead, she pressed on about the deal. What the hell was this deal?

“I already told her about DARC Ops,” Lea said. “And what they’re planning to do.”

“DARC Ops is not your friend,” Dunhill said to Kalani. “But the more of their fish we can scoop up into our net, the more they’ll have to start working with us.”

Kalani looked at her sister, trying to read from her expression just how wide the net had become. And just how much of a role Lea had played in helping people like Tucker and Ethan into that net.

Was Kalani in it, too?

“The more the merrier,” he said.

“So you do have Tucker,” Kalani said.

“I meant figuratively speaking,” he said. “I meant convincing them that they should mind their business elsewhere.”

“Like where? Like what?”

“Like blackmail,” Dunhill said. “Let’s just say that I’ve gotten pretty good at finding blackmail material on almost any kind of person.” There was that grin again. She shivered. “It doesn’t matter how outwardly righteous they are. In fact, the more righteous, the better.”

“I’m not righteous,” Kalani said. “And still you’re—”

“People like Macy. Have you met her? She’s another one of the DARC Ops lackies. Or should I say, floozies.”

Macy’s name struck Kalani quiet. Was she safe? Surely Jackson would have told her if . . .

No. He wouldn’t have told her a damn thing.

“Don’t be a floozy,” Dunhill said.

“Or what?” she said. “You’ll blackmail or kidnap me?”

He shrugged and said, “You’ve got choices.”

Her mouth fell open at the casual sentence. She looked at Lea and said, “So that’s what this is? This is what you’ve led me into?”

“You brought yourself here,” Dunhill said, “by getting involved. We never force any of our targets to get involved, but they do, and they find out what happens to targets.”

She was still staring at Lea. “So I’m a target?”

Lea didn’t say anything.

“You could be a friend,” Dunhill said. “We could all be good friends.”

“What’s in the plane?” Kalani said. She started walking toward the little set of stairs that led into the side of the plane.

“Just some passengers.”

“Who?

Dunhill started moving, too, positioning himself between her and the plane. “No one you need to concern—hey!”

Kalani bolted for the stairs, slipping past Dunhill’s grasp. Lea hadn’t moved an inch. Neither did she speak when Kalani climbed the steps two at a time, her face hot and flushed with adrenaline, her feet scrambling to the top, where she turned the corner quickly into someone’s wide chest and pair of hands. A tall man pushed her back without a word. An older man, wrinkled and gray. Crew cut. Where had she seen him before?

“Where you goin’, Missy?” he was pushing her back with a strong smell of alcohol, and then with his hands, Kalani’s feet tripping over themselves on her way back to the door, the stairs. She panicked at the thought of him pushing her down the stairs. She collected enough power and will to give him a solid push back, the plane filling with the satisfying thud of her hands slamming into him.

He smiled.

Over his shoulder, Kalani saw it, a man lying on the floor, bound with rope. A big black bag over his head. He was motionless.

She’d seen those boots before.

She knew them.

She knew him.

Tucker . . .

The sturdy frame of the man in between filled up her line of sight, and Tucker disappeared again. He disappeared like he had before, without a word. But now she knew who was responsible. She’d be next if she didn’t find a way out of that hangar.

Any hope of that fled when she saw Mr. Dunhill standing at the bottom of the stairs. A length of rope lay in his hand.

Kalani barely had time to notice that Lea had almost backed up into the wall of the hangar, near the entrance, backing away from the scene as much as possible. She didn’t seem to be helping either one of them.

The image of Lea like that burned into her mind.

And then Dunhill’s hand gripping the rope.

“Chill out,” he said. “Just chill out. No one has to get hurt.”

She wanted him hurt.

She wanted to grab the rope and strangle him with it.

Behind her, Kalani heard footsteps coming out of the plane. She moved forward, taking two steps down, closer to Dunhill and his rope. He moved up a step closer before Kalani put her foot up onto the railing, lifting her weight up with it, then pivoting around and jumping off the side to the mad, cursing sounds of Dunhill.

She landed hard, but on two feet. Steady.

She bolted toward the open side of the hangar, curving her route toward Lea to grab her by the elbow and yank her out of the fucked-up situation. Take her out of the Blackwoods situation permanently.

But Lea turned away, flinching back.

Kalani had a new image etched into her mind.

She held the image in her mind as she ran out of the hangar and through the gate toward the parking lot. She hated the image. An image that needed replaced by something different. Something good.

Where was Ethan?

She was in a full sprint back to the car, running faster down their lane in the parking lot. It was that time in the night, late night or early morning, when at just any minute Kalani would be able to see the bluing of the horizon and know how close the next day really was. She was happy to have survived so long, if she could be honest with herself. There would still be some work to do, the heaviest lifting yet, but they were close. She could feel it.

She thought of Ethan again. He’d been on her mind almost constantly, more so as she was returning to the car as a failure. A failed mission, so far . . . until she could grab the radio and call DARC Ops into action. Call for backup. Describe the plane. List the plane ID numbers from memory.

She might not have stopped them. But Jackson and his men surely would. She was as sure about that as she was about the plane’s need to refuel at some point.

She was hoping Ethan would at least be awake.

She was really hoping not even to see him in the car at all, but instead the strewn, empty straitjacket lying on the seat. Maybe he’d have the radio himself, already calling in for help.

She was hoping for just one thing to finally go right.

Either way, she had to start making her move. No more passenger on the Lea Blackwoods crazy train.

How could Lea have stayed there? Why hadn’t she helped?

Stop thinking about Lea.

A moment later, Kalani stood frozen at the rear car door, jaw open. Mouth breathing. Hard breathing, her shoulders moving up and down with it, her heart beating to full capacity.

She stared into an empty back seat. Empty save for a straitjacket strewn to the side.

She turned, frantically scanning the area for him, when a black car pulled into the parking space across the lane from her car. A middle-aged man stepped out. He was thin, but well defined for his age, and dressed in olive drab—an old army uniform. Army boots. Something about those boots made Kalani wonder about clay prints back at the safe house.

He was smiling at her.

Why was he smiling at her?

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, walking over casually. “I was following behind, but then you guys pulled some moves and you lost me.”

In the brief silence, Kalani knew exactly who the man was. Her elusive tail, finally showing himself.

A touch of menace in the tail’s eyes.

Kalani had her hand in her pocket, fingers wrapped around car keys. “Who are you?”

“I’m with Jackson,” he said.

“Who are you?

He stopped a few feet away. She was glad he did. “DARC Ops personnel. You know how it is. I don’t have a name.”

Jackson knew every one of his crew by name. Including her. They were a family.

“You’re not with DARC.”

“Fine,” he said. He huffed out a breath, rolling his eyes. “You’re too smart for me. Good. I’m with Lea.”

That made more sense to Kalani. Horrible sense.

“And here to help you, either way.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“You’ll need it,” he said. “You’ll need help any way you can get it.”

“No.”

“Lea already made the right choice,” he said. “What are you going to do?”

“Have you been following us the whole time? Stalking us at the house? Intruding?”

“No,” he said with a smile. “I was invited.”

Kalani wondered how fast she could open the car, slip in, and lock the doors. And then start the engine. And drive over him.

“I left something in the trunk,” he said. “You might want to be careful.”

“What do you mean?” The image of a wad of C4 explosives jumped to her mind. “What is it?”

“Open it up and I’ll show you.”

And then the image of an empty trunk. And her pushed inside screaming.

“Open it,” he said.

“No.” She walked backward, away from him.

He drew a small handgun from his pocket. “Let’s go,” he said. “Give me the keys”

There was a flash of movement behind him.

He spoke again. “Give me the keys or—” the last sound opening up to a big blast of air like the wind had been knocked out of him as the top half of his body lurched forward, and over, with Ethan behind it.

Ethan tackled the man to the ground, wrestling him immediately for the gun. It bounced loose and slid a few feet out of their grasp, and the fight was for who could grab it first, Ethan holding him down by his throat with one hand while the other inched up the pavement. No words. Not even any more vocalized hints of struggle. Just the sound of clothing and bodies writhing against the ground. The metal sound of the gun against the pavement.

Could she slide between them? Stay out of the way and pick it up?

Then Kalani felt another hard object. Another piece of cool metal, this one stuck into the small of her back. She smelled alcohol. And then a man’s voice, telling her to hold very, very still.