Liz Shoaf - Holiday Mountain Conspiracy

He was onto her game. To fly, a person had to present identification. He grinned back and whipped out an encrypted satellite phone. He tapped in a number and held the phone close to his ear. There were two clicks, and he knew his contact was listening. “I need the private plane in Jackson Hole, pronto, headed to—” He looked at Mary Grace and almost laughed out loud at the stunned expression on her face.

“Waycross, Georgia,” she answered through gritted teeth.

“Waycross,” he repeated into the phone. “We’ll be at the airport in thirty minutes. No paperwork.”

He put his phone away and turned left out of his sister’s driveway.

Mary Grace settled into her seat and kissed her dog on top of the head. He felt a mood shift in the car. It was almost as if he could sense her switching gears in that agile brain of hers. He liked the challenge of matching wits with her. He’d always appreciated beautiful women, but it was the smart ones who held his attention, and Mary Grace had proven to be very intelligent.

“Why Georgia?”

“That’s where we grew up for the most part, at my grandmother’s house.” She turned toward him, as much as her seat belt would allow. “Unlike you, I have nothing to hide. Bobby and I were both born and raised in Georgia. My father passed away when I was twelve. My mom remarried quickly—way too soon for decency—and Bobby became my little brother. I was a little over thirteen and he was eight years old at the time. I helped take care of him.”

She twisted back around and became interested in the passing scenery as she continued, “Bobby and I spent most of our youth at Gram Ramsey’s house. We had what everyone now refers to as a dysfunctional family. Our parents were, and still are, pretty much gambling addicts. They traveled a lot and we stayed at my grandmother’s house.”

This time the chatter was laced with an undertone of hurt and regret and it made Ned even more curious about Mary Grace. But he clamped down on the sudden protective instinct that rose to the surface as she matter-of-factly discussed a childhood that had to have been fraught with heartache.

He empathized with her pain more than he wanted to and it was time to get the conversation back on track. He had to find Bobby.

“Why would Bobby go to Georgia? If his family lives there, that’s the first place anyone would look for him.”

Relief hit him full force when he glanced at her. The right side of her mouth kicked up and the challenge was back in her eyes.

“You ever been to a swamp, Mountain Man?”

He had fought the enemy plenty of times in a swamp, but decided to let her win this round. For some foolish reason—a reason he didn’t examine too closely—he wanted to see the now-familiar smirk back on her face.

His hands relaxed on the steering wheel as he turned onto the road leading to the airport. “There’s a first time for everything.”

After waving his hand at the guy at the gate, he pulled onto the tarmac right up next to the plane.

Mary Grace gave him an incredulous look. “You can’t just drive onto the tarmac without permission, and don’t we need to go inside and see about the car return and go through security?”

He grabbed her hand, stopping her. “The car will be taken care of and we don’t need to go through security. Stay close to me until we’re on the plane.”

She stared at him for a full minute, then pulled her hand away, her eyes narrowing. “Is this legal? Am I going to end up in jail?”

He couldn’t help it, he grinned through his beard. “Everything is legal, and no, you won’t end up in jail.”

She stared at him a moment longer. “Who are you?” she asked, then grumbled, “Never mind. I’m sure it’s classified.”

She didn’t sound as if she believed him, but after he called Krieger, she and TB did follow him onto the tarmac toward the plane. He stopped halfway there when the fine hair on his nape rose. Mary Grace ran into his back and he pulled her under his arm. Smart woman that she was, she didn’t fight the maneuver.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice muffled under his heavy fleece jacket.

“Stay close to me and run when I say go.”

The instinctual warning system that had saved his life on more than one occasion was screaming a red-hot alert. He took two more steps, moving them closer to the plane before he gave a quiet command. “Go. Now.”

Mary Grace shot out from under his arm, clamored up the steps and barely got through the door before Ned heard a ping on the steps leading into the plane. He took a giant leap forward and slipped into the plane before the sniper could take another shot. Unfortunately, he still didn’t know whom they were shooting at—him or Mary Grace. The bullet could have been meant for either one of them. But the one thing he was sure of was that they needed to get out of there before the sniper found a way to ground them...and finish the job.

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