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“Wakey-wakey, sunshine!” The voice was close to Kenna’s ear, but sounded like shouting. Someone squeezed her knee.
Kenna blinked. The noise from the plane rumbled through her head, which she lifted off Jax’s shoulder. He still had his hand on her knee, so she wound her arm through his and held on to his forearm to give her an anchor point.
He pulled his hand back to his own lap, her arm still wound in his.
Kenna sat up, trying to work out the kinks, but they were squashed in the back of the plane. Never mind the weight limit, they’d just packed in like sardines in a can, and Reuben had taken off in the dark. The plane racing toward the strip of light on the horizon.
Now it was full daylight, and he’d touched down on a runway that bumped with every foot the tires rolled over toward a farmer in a coat and hat, waving them over.
Jax glanced at her. “Okay?”
Kenna nodded.Ouch.“My head hurts.”
“We’ll get you something.”
She wasn’t the only person in pain in the small airplane. Kenna wasn’t even injured. Jim had been shot, but so far refused treatment. Pilsborough had woken up but stayed on the dining table until it was time to go. Then he’d had Jax walk him to the plane.
The marshal looked a little sick. Pale. Alice had given him a pill, and some tea. Evidently, he was going to push through until he couldn’t. Which was exactly what Kenna would’ve done, so she couldn’t really fault him. He had to ensure his man got to Chicago. When he was under federal protection, and maybe even not until after Jim had made his statement, Pilsborough would head to a hospital and get a professional to look at his wound.
The plane came to a stop, and Reuben cut the engine. Destain got out first, shifting the seat in front of them so they could climb out. Jax held her elbows while she found her feet. Kenna gave him a squeeze, then stepped away, scanning the terrain for gunmen.
She didn’t believe the danger was over.
But it may not come this time like before. Car chases, gunmen, snipers, roadblocks. This was another farm like the one the Merrington’s lived on. The man who’d waved them in had wandered off, and came back now driving a red pickup.
He pulled up close to the plane and climbed out. His features and coloring matched the Merringtons, and he stuck his hand out to Reuben. They shook vigorously but said nothing. He nodded to Kenna, then told Reuben, “Keys are in the ignition,” and wandered away.
Strategically staying out of whatever was going on. Ignoring the wounded, letting them use his vehicle and giving himself the standing to say he knew nothing about who was here. Maybe even that he never saw anything, or that his truck was stolen early this morning.
Kenna said, “I’ll drive.”
Jax chuckled. “Good one. But I’m driving. Reuben, you’re in the back with Destain.” He pulled out his phone.
The kid strode to the back and flipped the tailgate down, the hinges creaking as he lowered it. Then he clambered into the truck bed.
Destain shot Jax a look.
Kenna got in the back with Jim, Pilsborough in the front passenger seat. Did Jax arrange it that way so she’d be able to talk to Jim with only trusted people within earshot? She slid over, and Jim buckled up. The GPS gave Jax the first direction.
As soon as Jax had pulled onto the salted blacktop, the tension in her head eased. She watched the snowy scenery go by, trying to figure out how many days it had been since she had stepped inside her RV. Or felt like she hadn’t been hit by a truck.
Now all this?
She angled her knees to point at Jax in the driver’s seat.
Jim looked haggard. His skin pale. Dark circles under his eyes. “It can’t be a coincidence that you’re testifying against…who you’re testifying against.”
She glanced through the back window, but it didn’t seem like the two people hunkering down out of the winter wind could hear them. “Cecelia Warren was my roommate at Quantico,” she whispered. “I have a vested interest in what happens to her, but not because I want to help her skate out from under justice.”
“She’s the one who framed me for murder.”
“You’re not the only one whose life she destroyed.” Kenna leaned closer. “But this needs to be done right.”
“You wanna take over this mission?” Pilsborough spokewithout turning around, which he probably couldn’t do with that wound in his side.
“Usually, I’d do exactly that,” she said. “Take the whole case on myself, and see it through.”
But something in her was missing—the drive to jump in with both feet. Because there was so much to take care of here? She didn’t want to abandon Forrest and head to Chicago, take the next case before this one was even finished.