Chapter 255
“Look out!” Kegan screamed from the lead bike.
Ashley wrenched the handlebars left. The bike skidded violently, sparks screeching from the footpeg as it raked the asphalt. The truck’s bumper missed their rear tire by inches.
“Who is that?” Cailin yelled. “Hilliard wouldn’t do this!”
“It’s not Hilliard!” Kegan shouted back. “It’s a mercenary! English money!”
Charla. Even in defeat, she had paid for one last strike.
The truck corrected and came at them again.
Kegan twisted the throttle and pulled his bike alongside Ashley’s, putting himself between them and the truck. He reached into his jacket and drew a Glock.
“Hold steady!” he yelled over the engine’s roar.
He aimed with one hand, his body a wall between the threat and Cailin.
Bang. Bang.
The muzzle flashes split the dark.
The truck’s front tire exploded. The massive vehicle lurched hard to the right, crashed through the guardrail, and plowed into the ditch beside the road.
Ashley fought to keep her bike upright, every muscle straining. She brought it back under control — but the violent swerve sent a bolt of white-hot pain tearing through Cailin’s injured shoulder.
“We’re here!” Kegan called, pointing ahead.
The gates of Teterboro Airport appeared through the dark. Kegan hit them at speed, the chain link snapping. Ashley followed him through.
They raced onto the tarmac.
The Gulfstream was there — engines whining, stairs down, waiting.
They skidded to a stop at the base of the steps.
“Go, go, go!” Kegan shouted, lifting the boys off his bike and propelling them toward the plane.
Cailin unstrapped Elia. “Run to the plane, baby! Run!”
Elia scrambled up the stairs.
Cailin dismounted. Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else.
A roar from above.
A black helicopter descended rapidly and touched down on a designated helipad fifty yards away. The rotors were still spinning when the door slid open and Hilliard jumped out. He sprinted toward a line of black SUVs that screeched to a halt in a solid wall across the Gulfstream’s path. Four armed guards flanked him.
“Stop the plane!” Hilliard commanded.
“No!” Cailin pulled the weapon Kegan had given her and leveled it at Hilliard.
He stopped. He looked at the gun. He looked at her face.
“You won’t shoot me, Cailin,” he said, and walked toward her. The wash from the jet engines tore at his clothes.
“Try me,” Cailin said. Her hand was trembling.
“Look at you,” Hilliard said, his voice raw. “You’re bleeding. You’re exhausted. Just stop. Please.”
“I’m leaving,” Cailin said, stepping backward toward the stairs.
“I can’t let you take them,” Hilliard said. “They’re my children too.”
While he spoke, two of his guards had quietly circled around the tail of the plane.
Cailin didn’t see them.
As she lifted her foot onto the first step, a hand closed around her ankle. She kicked out hard, but a second hand seized her arm and wrenched the gun away.
“No!”