Two seconds later, Mack’s phone rang. He was surprised to see the call coming in from Tank and tapped the screen. “Tank?”
“Hostage situation at the airport. I think it’s the flight Bex and Christa were on,” he stated without hesitation.
“Fuck. Didn’t realize there were hostages. How the fuck did you find out?” His heart rate picked up as he pulled up to the Open Skies terminal.
“Got an alert from a buddy at DPD. You’re already at the airport aren’t you?”
“Just pulled up. Gonna ditch the car and get inside.”
“And then what?” Tank asked.
“Guess I’ll buy a ticket and make my way to the gate. Hatch is on his way here.”
“I’ll pick up Sweets and be there as fast as we can.” The call ended. It wasn’t as though Kraft expected anything less. Nor would he bother to argue with Tank. All four of them were trained special forces. They were used to hostage situations. And none of them would leave a man out of a situation like this. Now Mack had to pray that Christa and Bex weren’t involved. What bothered him most was that she wasn’t returning his texts. Maybe her phone was off or dead or she dropped it.
He pulled right up to the departing flights section of the airport, jumped out of the car, left it running, and spotted a young cop. As he ran toward the building and tossed the officer his keys without slowing down. With all the authority he’d used in many previous situations, he shouted. “Helping with the hostage situation.”
The office caught the keys midair and nodded, pointing toward the entrance as if that would help Mack get into the building.
Mack wasn’t dressed in anything special. Jeans. Army green shirt. Boots. But he knew he looked formidable in almost any situation. He also looked like he was military. His hair was cut short and his tattoos weren’t completely concealed.
Obviously, no one from the military would be sent to the airport at five in the morning to help with a hostage situation, but that young officer didn’t think it through, and now Mack was inside. It helped that the cop was aware of the situation. Hell, it helped a lot that Tank had provided that detail, too.
Mack slowed down to a brisk walk when he got inside. He stopped to scan the departing flights chart, quickly spotting several that were due to leave in the next hour. After another glance at arrivals to check which gate was Christa’s, he made his way to the counter, beyond relieved to find no one waiting in line. With all the calm he could muster, he purchased a ticket to Chicago and then hurried over to the security checkpoint.
Mack forced himself to appear outwardly calm while he waited impatiently. He somehow managed to remove his boots, empty his pockets into a bin, and get through the X-ray machine without anyone becoming suspicious.
Granted, he hadn’t done anything illegal. Yet.
As soon as his boots were back on, he took off at a jog again. That part wouldn’t make him stand out. People jogged through airports all the time. He didn’t allow himself to think until he reached the gate and saw the number of people on the ground out the window.
Every available emergency vehicle surrounded the plane. Fire trucks. Police. Ambulance. Airport security. Men and women in uniform were all over the ground, some huddled in strategy sessions, others with guns drawn.
People were also running into the terminal from the jetway. The plane was deboarding. That was a good sign. Many of the people exiting were visibly shaken up. Crying. Eyes wide. Clutching each other.
The staff working this gate were all looking out the window. Mack realized they were making his life easy, and he slipped into the jetway going against the crowd.
He stayed to one side, dodging scared travelers as he worked his way toward the plane like a fish swimming against the rest of the pod.
His forward movement was slow, and he realized as he got closer that this was to his advantage because the farther he got through the crowd, the more people he encountered from the rear of the plane.
They were talking.
He was listening.
“What do you think he did?”
“I don’t know, but did you see those young girls? Maybe he’s wanted for kidnapping or abuse.”
“I can’t believe he managed to take the gun from the air marshal. What good is an air marshal if he can so easily be overtaken?”
That comment startled Mack. He wondered the same thing. A chill ran up his spine at the thought of the trafficker having a firearm.
Mack didn’t see a single flight attendant in the crowd, but that didn’t surprise him. They wouldn’t get off until every passenger exited.
As he got closer to the entrance to the plane, a hysterical older woman was shaking as she shouted at her husband. “He took that stewardess! He’s crazy. What if he hurts her?”
Mack’s blood froze. Please God, don’t let it be Christa. He didn’t wish such a thing on anyone, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if anything happened to Christa after he wasted two weeks being too stubborn to confront her and beg her to forgive him for his stupidity.
He considered entering the plane and then decided that probably wasn’t his best option, especially since it would seem the situation had moved outside. He could see clearly now that he’d reached the windows at the end of the jetway. People were running all over the place. Whatever was the focal point, it was no longer inside the plane.
Two flight attendants Mack didn’t know were helping passengers safely deplane. No one was paying any attention to Mack. He glanced outside, waited for someone to step away from the stairs, and then pushed through the door and rushed down the stairs.
As soon as he hit the ground, he jogged toward a large group of bystanders. Many of them were ramp agents. They were dressed in all kinds of clothing. He glanced around and spotted an abandoned dolly that had been intended to collect the luggage. It was connected to a tug.
Bingo. The ground crew who left the dolly also left their ear protection. Mack grabbed it and put it on. He reached around between the seats and found a spare orange tool vest and eye protection next.
When he returned to blend in with the crowd, he looked like he belonged.
He wove through the people, aiming for the direction they focused their attention on. The moment he was finally able to get a clear view of the situation, he stopped breathing.
A set of open-air passenger boarding stairs was located about two yards from the rear door on the far side of the plane. Two people were at the top of the stairs. A man Mack had to assume was the trafficker, and Christa.
“Fuck,” Mack muttered as he inched closer, forcing himself to remain with the crowd for now. He needed to get a better look. The man had his arm around Christa’s neck and he was tall enough that she was forced to stand on her tiptoes to avoid being suffocated. She was gripping his forearm.
The man held a gun to her head.
Mack waited a beat to see if anyone around him would provide him with answers, but when no one did, he got bold. “How did he get the stairs detached from the plane?” he asked the ground crew employee next to him wearing a similar vest. The man had removed his headset, which was dangling from his hand, so Mack did the same thing.
The guy glanced at him only briefly. “Fucker managed to use the controls with his elbow.”
Mack nodded and then glanced around to assess the entire area. There were multiple airport officers, but none looked like they were prepared to handle a hostage situation.
Mack muscled his way closer to a group of officers. Their lieutenant was giving instructions. Horrible instructions that involved surrounding the stairs and closing in.
Mack couldn’t let that happen. He cleared his throat and took a huge risk just before the lieutenant in charge was about to give the go-ahead. “Don’t do it. It won’t work.”
The guy shot a glance toward Mack. “Who the fuck are you? Get out of here.”
Mack shook his head and stood at his full height, hands on his hips. “Trust me, I’ve worked more situations like thi
s than all of you combined. If you trap that asshole, he’s more likely to panic and kill the hostage.
One of the officers grabbed Mack’s sleeve and lifted it. “Jesus. What are you? Special forces?”
Mack glanced at the guy and said nothing.
“Fuck,” the lieutenant turned around, running a hand over his face.
He glanced at the stairs again.
Mack did his best to remain perfectly calm. It wouldn’t help any if they found out he knew the hostage. He took the opportunity to continue talking since it would seem he’d convinced the lieutenant to doubt himself. He didn’t want to be a dick, but he’d do anything to keep Christa alive. “Let me try to talk to him.”
The lieutenant shook his head. “Not a fucking chance in hell.”
“Look, I don’t mean to be condescending, but how many hostage-takers have you disarmed before?” He didn’t pause for an answer. “I’ve lost count. I can do this. I’ve even disarmed men who didn’t speak any language I know.”
The lieutenant stared at Mack, brow furrowed.
“He’s right.” The voice coming from behind Mack belonged to Hatch. Thank fuck. “Trust me. I’ve never seen Kraft lose a hostage.”
Finally, the lieutenant waved the two of them closer. “You realize if you’re bullshitting me, that woman dies?”
Mack met the lieutenant’s gaze dead-on. If I fuck this up, the woman I love dies. To the lieutenant, he nodded.
“Jesus,” the lieutenant murmured. “You fucking Deltas have a death wish.”
Mack wasn’t sure how the man realized Mack and Hatch were Delta Forces, but it didn’t matter.
“Do we know the guy’s name?” Mack asked.
“Richard Stone. Fifty-eight. Boarded with four young girls he’d held for two days after promising them modeling jobs in Dallas.”
Mack seethed. He hated men like this more than anything. But he managed to control his anger.
“Are the girls safe?” Hatch asked.
The lieutenant nodded. “Yes. No one has been hurt yet.”
Mack would beg to differ. The emotional scars from a situation like this would linger, keeping Christa awake for a long time.
Suddenly, Stone started shouting. “Where’s my fucking vehicle? I don’t have all day.”
The lieutenant spoke to Mack. “He requested a car.”
Obviously.
“We told him we’re working on it.”
Mack nodded and made his way through the group without another word. He didn’t want to waste any more time chatting. Stone was getting restless. Mack’s window was closing.
Mack moved slowly closer until he stood several yards from the stairs. Christa hadn’t spotted him yet. Mack saw Hatch moving around to the back side out of his peripheral vision. He didn’t need to make a plan with Hatch. This was how they operated. Mack would distract Stone while Hatch rounded to his back.
For a moment, Mack cursed himself for not securing a weapon. He could have insisted on one from the lieutenant. Not that it mattered. He didn’t intend to shoot anyone.
“When’s the car going to be here?” Mack shouted over his shoulder for the benefit of creating rapport with Stone.
“Any minute,” the lieutenant shouted back.
“Good.” Mack turned back around and stepped closer.
Stone pressed the gun into Christa’s temple. “Stay right there, asshole. Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m the guy who’s going to get you what you want if you don’t fuck it up.” Mack remained casual and calm on the outside, watching Christa closely as she recognized his voice and jerked her gaze toward him.
Her eyes were huge but she didn’t give him away. Good girl.
“The only person fucking anything up is you right now, asshole. Where’s my damn car?”
“You heard the officer. It’s on its way. Why don’t you let the woman go? She has nothing to do with this. You don’t want to accidentally harm her.”
Stone cackled. “I don’t give a fuck about this bitch. It’s her fault I’m in this situation. Bitch couldn’t mind her own business.”
Fuck. Stone must have known she turned him in. “She was just doing her job, man.”
Stone yanked Christa closer, his forearm too tight against her neck. “Well, she was wrong. I wasn’t doing anything illegal. I was helping those girls get to a better life.”
Mack nodded. “I believe you, man. All we need to do is sit down and clear this all up.”
“Fuck you,” Stone shouted. “All I need is a damn car.”
There wasn’t a chance in hell Mack was going to let this asshole drive away with Christa in a car. He’d kill him with his bare hands first.
Stone glanced at the officers and then back. “Why’d they send you to talk to me, asshole?”
Mack shrugged. “I volunteered.”
“You think you’re GI Joe or something? What’d you do? Serve in the fucking Army and now you think you’re some big shot?”
“Something like that.”
“Or, maybe you just got yourself a couple of fucking tattoos and went all vigilante. Were you on the plane?”
Mack considered his answer. “Nah, man. I was just working the ground crew.” He pointed at his vest.
Stone laughed sardonically. “That’s rich. Some asshole flunky from the Army who works the ground crew at fucking DFW thinks he can talk me out of my motherfucking car.” He glanced around as if looking for the car.
A vehicle pulled up as if on cue, and frankly, Mack was grateful. He needed to get this guy down the damn stairs.
A guy jumped out of the car and jogged toward Mack to hand him the keys.
Mack was glad. It would add a step, a reason to get closer to Stone.
A quick glance at Christa proved she was holding on. Literally and figuratively. She gripped Stone’s forearm hard enough that her knuckles were white. Mack could see her chest rising and falling. She was getting oxygen. Her feet were still shuffling around to gain purchase, too. That was a good sign.
Mack held up the keys. “I’m just going to pass these off to you. Come on down, and I’ll hand them to you.”
“Fuck you. Do I look like a sucker to you? Put the fucking keys on the ground and back off.”
Mack shook his head. “It’s a trade, man. You give up the woman; I give you the keys.”
“Not a chance. The bitch comes with me.”
“No trade; no car.” Mack tossed the keys in the air and caught them.
Stone twisted the gun against Christa’s head.
She whimpered loud enough for Mack to hear her. He wanted to kill this motherfucker. And he still might if he got a chance.
Mack started pacing, inching his way closer under the guise of going back and forth. He couldn’t see Hatch, but he knew by now his friend was somewhere behind Stone. Hatch might have been armed, but Mack also knew Hatch wouldn’t shoot if he could avoid it. Not in a crowd of civilians like this. Not with Christa’s life on the line.
“Look, asshole, either you set the keys down or I blow her brains out.” He jerked her body around like a rag doll.
Mack seethed but didn’t show it. “You shoot her, you’ll never get away, and you know it. The police will put ten bullets in your body before you can take your next breath. You need her alive.”
“Set the fucking keys down, asshole,” Stone shouted, louder this time.
Mack shook his head. “We trade or no deal.”
“You ain’t calling the shots here, fucker. I am. Drop the motherfucking keys and back the hell up or I’m going to shoot this bitch.” Stone surprised Mack when he lowered the gun to Christa’s stomach.
Smart move. Stone could shoot her in the belly and still take her with him. At least, that’s what he thought. It would be over Mack’s dead body, but it was still a wise move.
Christa was crying now. Her body was shaking. She was going into shock. Mack needed to act soon.
Mack knew what to do. He just prayed Hatch was in position to back
him up. He took several steps closer, lifted the keys in the air, and then tossed them toward Stone. “Catch.”
Stone was caught off-guard. He released Christa to swing his hand up in the air in an effort to snag the keys.
Luckily, Christa dropped to her hands and knees, either on purpose or because she couldn’t hold herself up any longer. Didn’t matter. That’s where Mack needed her.
The entire stairs jerked side to side.
Mack nearly fist-pumped the air. He’d been hoping Hatch was under the damn stairs.
Stone was caught off-balance, missed the keys, which went over his head, and grabbed onto the railing with both hands to keep from toppling over the side. He still held the gun, but he was at a serious disadvantage.
It gave Mack enough time to run up the stairs. He knew they would continue jerking, but he wasn’t the one taken unawares.
Stone tried to let go of the side with his gun hand, but he couldn’t steady himself. Before he could manage to aim, Mack was on him, throwing a punch that knocked him backward into the railing.
Mack half-hoped the fucker would go over the side and land on his head, sparing the world the cost of his trial, but that didn’t happen.
Stone was so stunned that Mack easily kicked the gun out of his hand next, and then stepped over Christa to grab his arms and yank them around to his back.
Stone fought hard, but he was no match for Mack’s strength.
Mack waited for Hatch to climb the stairs and then let him take over getting Stone off the platform. As soon as he was certain Hatch had control of Stone, Mack dropped to his knees and pulled Christa into his arms.
She was crying hard, too shocked to speak, but she leaned her head against Mack’s chest and heaved for oxygen between sobs. Her hands fisted his shirt. “You came.”
“Of course I came, baby.”
“You got my text.”
“Yes.” He stroked her back and smoothed her hair from her face. Most of it had come loose from the pristine bun she’d worn during the flight.
“I thought he was going to shoot me,” she choked out.
Mack held her closer. “I know, baby.”
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