Page 48 of Fearless Encounter

Five minutes felt like an eternity. Gabriel forced himself to take a breath. They were close. They had a chance.

Abe’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. “Backup is en route,” he said. “But they’re at least ten minutes behind us.”

“We can’t wait for them.”

Abe took the exit for the airport, the car screeching around the turn. He shut off the siren. “We don’t want to alert airport security. That will only make things more complicated.”

In the distance, Gabriel could see the small airfield with private jets and helicopters. Then Abe brought the car to a halt, the brakes squealing. They leapt out.

Gabriel scanned the tarmac, then he saw it and pointed. A sleek black jet on the far runway, its door open—and there, on the steps, Brooke and Meg.

Abe ran beside him to the plane, intent on delaying takeoff. Gabriel swore he wouldn’t let Petrov escape with his captives—if he had to tear the wheels off the damn plane to stop it.

As they got closer, Gabriel saw Daniel Fontenot standing by the stairs. He looked over as they approached, unable to hide his surprise.

Then the Russian guard turned and leveled his gun at Abe’s chest. Gabriel reacted without thinking. He lunged sideways, tackled Abe to the ground, and hit the tarmac hard, the breath rushing from his lungs.

With a surge of adrenaline, Gabriel immediately leapt to his feet. He closed the gap on Daniel, who didn’t have time to react before he was tackled to the ground.

They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs. Gabriel’s weight pushed the air from Daniel’s lungs. He pinned the man to the ground, his hands around Daniel’s wrists.

When Gabriel looked up, he saw Abe standing behind the Russian guard, pointing his gun at his head.

“Drop your gun!” he said, his voice ringing with authority.

The Russian hesitated, glancing at the plane. For a moment, Gabriel feared he might try something desperate. But then, miraculously, the man’s fingers loosened. His gun clattered to the tarmac.

Gabriel turned to Meg and Brooke, who were at the top of the stairs. He shouted, “Run to the car!”

Brooke’s gaze locked with his, and a thousand emotions passed between them in that instant—relief, gratitude, love. Then she moved, grabbing Meg’s hand and racing down the stairs.

Gabriel watched them go, then turned his attention back to Daniel, still pinned beneath him. With a grunt, Gabriel hauled the other man to his knees, twisting his arms behind his back.

“You’re starting to realize your rightful place,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Daniel stared at Gabriel, hatred in his expression. “Let me go,” he said. “You can’t win this. There are plenty more Russians on that plane with Petrov.”

To Gabriel’s surprise, the Russian guard spoke up. “You can have him,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless.

Daniel’s head snapped around, his eyes wide with shock. “You idiot!” he spat. “Tell Petrov to get more guards down here!”

The Russian pressed his finger to his earpiece, as if straining to hear his instructions. For a moment, he was silent. Then a slow smile spread across his face.

“Petrov says you’ve made a mess of this,” he said. “He wants nothing more to do with you.”

Without another word, the Russian turned and started up the stairs to the plane. Abe lowered his gun and made no move to stop him.

Gabriel hauled Daniel to his feet. “You can kiss all that money goodbye.”

Abe stepped forward, his gun at the ready. “Daniel Fontenot,” he said, his voice ringing with authority, “you’reunder arrest for kidnapping, assault, and a whole host of other charges.”

Daniel said nothing, but Gabriel could see defeat in his eyes, the realization that his grand plans had turned to dust.

As Abe began to read Daniel his rights, Gabriel looked over to where Brooke and Meg were waiting by the car. The sound of sirens signaled that backup had arrived, just as the plane carrying Petrov and his men taxied down the short runway and lifted into the air. That was of no concern to Gabriel. Daniel Fontenot would answer for his crimes, and the FBI would deal with the Russians, whose escape was only a temporary reprieve.

As Gabriel approached the car, Brooke leapt into his open arms.

He caught her, holding her tight against his chest. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her. In that moment, nothing else mattered—not Daniel, not Petrov, not the chaos that had brought them to this point. All that mattered was Brooke, safe in his arms.