Joint Forces (Wingmen Warriors 7)

The dark eyes blinked from inside the mask. "Well, hello, Sergeant. I was hoping to finish up here before you came in, hut now we're out of luck."

Options raced through his head. If he called a warning, Rena would come downstairs. As much as he hated having made her cry, at least it might keep her safely upstairs.

One-on-one odds he could handle. Hell, right now he welcomed the chance to fight back, better than being stuck in a cell with his hands tied behind his back.

The man's attention shifted. J.T.'s muscles bunched for action.

The gun twitched. "Well, hello there, ma'am."

Ma'am? Rena? Adrenaline turned to icy heat. A trick? Maybe, but with that gun possibly pointed at Rena, J.T. couldn't afford to act until … he … looked…

At his wife standing red-eyed and horrified in the doorway.

Oh God, babe, I'm sorry.

Pain exploded in his head. J.T. managed a half turn toward his attacker before…

Everything went dark.

Chapter 15

Rena screamed. Ran forward. Tried to catch J.T. as he fell toward the ground. God, he was heavy. She crumpled to the floor with him, hard, but at least she'd kept him from cracking his head on the desk on the way down.

As if he hadn't already taken a hard enough hit to the skull when the guy looming in dark clothes and a ski mask had knocked J.T. out with the butt of his gun. Bile bubbled up, scalding her throat.

She cradled her husband's head in her lap, fear snaking through her, gripping, like poison ivy to fertile ground. "Take whatever you want. I'll tell you where everything is in the house, the keys to the car. Just take it all and go, but please don't hurt us."

Don't hurt J.T. again.

Gun level, the lean man skirted around the corner of the desk. "I need your husband's flight schedule, ma'am, for tonight and tomorrow, and then I'm out of here. Out of your hair. It's really simple, actually. I have everything under control."

What the hell did this guy want with a flight schedule? His flat accent gave her no hints of his background other than that he sounded educated, not some street thug in search of a quick pawn. Something niggled at her about his voice, but she couldn't place him as anyone she knew well.

Rena studied his clothes for clues, black pleated pants and T-shirt, nice cut and make on a tall, fit frame. Not someone she had any real hope of taking out.

Her world had gone crazy in a couple of weeks.

She didn't know why this man had a gun pointed at her, but she knew enough to realize this was bad. Really bad. "And if I find whatever schedule it is you're looking for, you'll let us live?"

"You don't have a choice but to believe me. Of course, I could start by killing your husband, and then wait for your son to come home. What do you think?"

She thought all the options sucked. Him knowing she had a son scared her even more. Was he someone they knew? Maybe his voice sounded familiar, after all, or maybe her frightened-as-hell mind was playing tricks on her.

That she didn't have any idea where J.T. might have a flight schedule made things worse. She feared he didn't have one at all, because hadn't he talked about taking leave? That his schedule was clear now?

What did this guy need a flight schedule for, anyway? If she was sure she would live, she could give it to him and then let the base know it was gone.

But if she gave it to him and then he killed them… She would have put crew members' lives at risk. Furthermore, giving it to him would constitute treason. A line neither she nor her husband could cross.

Think time. Start with the truth, about her only option since what more could she do? Bash him over the head with her begonias? "We don't have it. J.T. is starting leave now. There's nothing in this house for you."

"Like I believe that. Try again, ma'am."

Apparently this overpolite scum didn't recognize truth. She burned to take this guy on with a lamp or ashtray upside the head for a chance to protect J.T. and Chris. Too bad she hadn't pocketed the crystal dish she'd longed to lob at J.T.

Except she also had to protect the baby she was carrying. She needed to buy time for J.T. to regain consciousness.

If he regained consciousness.