Chapter 18 #2
Unfortunately, the jet came to a standstill in exactly the wrong place, obscuring his view of Taylor.
Before the engines could fall silent, he crouched low and ran for the interior of the hangar, going from cover to cover until he reached a vantage point to the rear of the jet, where he could see but not be seen.
Livingston’s men had already secured the other hangars, set up tactical spotlights, and taken up positions where they had the best tactical advantage.
However, Taylor meant no more to them than any other member of the public, which was why Rhys’ focus would be solely on the woman who was his life.
From here, he had a better view. As per Livingston’s instructions, she’d parked the pickup with the rear to the building, ready to make a quick getaway.
From his current position, Rhys could get to the driver’s side two ways now—through that door, for a clandestine approach, or barrel straight ahead, all guns blazing.
The corner of his mouth lifted—concealed carry was one of the many things he’d come to like about the US in general and Texas in particular.
A sudden noise grabbed his attention. Just a few feet away from Taylor, the jet’s door cracked open and the steps began to lower.
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Eyes narrowed, senses on high alert, Rhys watched as Taylor’s father almost tumbled out of the jet.
The clumsiness of his descent wasn’t surprising, given his hands were tied behind his back.
The woman who followed him was younger, objectively attractive, and there was a time in Rhys’ past when she might have been his type—for an evening, at any rate.
She was restrained in a similar way, and would have fallen had one of the men standing by the plane’s staircase not made a grab for her arm to keep her upright.