Quinn paused at the base of the stairwell, his gaze darting back and forth from Kathleen to Tanner as if reassessing the situation. Unease prickled over Tanner. Aw, hell. It couldn't go bad now. He almost had Kathleen out of the plane.
Quinn threw back his shoulders, a cocky grin spreading across his face. "You know what, Bennett? This is your lucky day. I'm letting you both go, now that we're over the border."
It sounded too damned good to be true. "Why?"
"Call it residual sentimentality from my active duty days. Or call it common sense because you're both loose cannons who are just lovesick enough to throw yourselves in front of my gun one too many times and get somebody seriously hurt. Like maybe me. Regardless, it'll make for less baggage to deal with on the ground. And I don't really need you anymore."
Quinn's eyes glowed. "I've always wanted to fly one of these beauties, anyway. Low, past radar like the old days. I'll ditch the plane where the Air Force can retrieve it later. This is your chance, big guy. Parachute up and pile out."
Tanner searched for signs that Quinn might be feeding them a line in order to catch them off guard, shoot them and dump their bodies. He found nothing but impatience in Quinn's eyes.
The guy actually planned to let them both out. Tanner sucked in air like water. Kathleen would make it.
And Quinn really thought Tanner would willingly leave his plane while the guy got away clean.
Quinn deserved to pay for putting lives in danger. Only by the grace of God and a good set of flying hands had Crusty and his crew lived.
Who was he kidding? Tanner burned, to make Quinn pay for threatening Kathleen. Forget that he intended to let her go. The bastard who'd kidnapped his sister had let her go, but she'd died, anyway.
The bullet may not have hit Kathleen, but it could have, and Tanner intended to make sure Quinn didn't get away with it.
But he wouldn't let Quinn—or Kathleen—know that until she was safely out of the plane. The automatic tracker on her parachute would bring rescuers within a few hours. With her safely out, he could deal with Quinn.
Olive-green parachutes dangled from hooks. Tanner tossed one to Kathleen before selecting another for himself while Quinn stood guard to the side with his gun.
Tanner's own chute felt heavy in his hands. The scent of military-issue equipment wafted up, the familiar mix of must and hydraulic fluid bringing an odd comfort. He strapped into his parachute, knowing full well he wouldn't use it. Going through the motions kept Kathleen moving.
Her slender arms slid through the straps while wind howled through the open back. With brisk efficiency, she hooked the D-ring over her chest, cinched it tight, then repeated the procedure with the leg straps.
Precision. One-hundred-percent-perfectionist Kathleen.
Her methodical attention to detail gave him another dose of comfort as he readied to send her out of the plane. She might be risky, but in a make-sure-her-ass-was-covered kind of way. If they both got out of this alive, he could find a lifetime of comfort in that realization.
Kathleen stopped in front of Tanner, cupping his face in her palms. The hazy glow bathed her skin in a red that was as fiery as her wind-tossed hair, as his determination.
"Hey, hotshot?" Husky and low, her voice trembled with emotion, anger and something else he didn't recognize. "You can't control everything."
He hadn't fooled her for a minute. She knew him too well.
She pressed a fierce, hard kiss to his lips, then tore herself away. In perfect form, not that he expected otherwise, she leaped from the plane.
Quinn flicked his gun to the gaping opening at the end of the load ramp. "Okay, you next."
Tanner turned to Quinn, eyed his opponent, and calculated the odds of wrestling the gun from him now that Kathleen was gone.
Then it hit him. How ironic that by the end of this mission, she had being a team player down pat. He was the one screwing up. Not Kathleen.
He'd missed the big picture. The plane was being tracked. It was almost certain Quinn wouldn't get away. What did it matter if he was taken when he landed or in the air? Or who dispensed the justice?
If anything, Tanner needed to be on the ground with Kathleen. A real team player didn't leave his wingman.
And, damn it, she was even more than that to him. Kathleen was special. He'd known it when he first saw her twelve years ago. He knew it now as well.
Being with Kathleen was like swinging from a chandelier. Unpredictable. Exciting. Hell on his heart-rate.
But he loved her and wouldn't have her any other way.
Tanner stepped away from Quinn. "Go easy on the stick. Remember this baby's a newer model. It's a fly-by-wire, not like the C-130."