She nodded, obviously trying to hide the tension in her shoulders. “When do we leave here?”
“Within the hour,” Noah said. “Sit tight until then. The second its wheels are down, get on board and don’t look back.”
“Copy that,” Jackson said.
Jackson tapped the phone again. “Noah, one more thing. Avery’s going to need clothes. We had to toss hers after the tracker scare.”
“I’ll handle it,” Noah said. “You’ll have what you need when you get here.”
The line went dead.
Jackson set the phone down and blew out a slow breath. He hoped like hell this wasn’t a mistake. The idea of putting Avery on a helicopter, even one guarded by Crossfire Ops, twisted at his gut.
He crossed to the garage, grabbed their gear from the SUV, and brought it inside. He handed Avery a fresh vest from his duffel. “Put this on,” he said. “It’s not custom-fitted, but it’ll stop a round.”
“Thanks,” she said quietly, slipping it over her shirt.
They’d barely finished getting ready when dispatch patched through another call. The voice on the other end was shaking.
“Jackson, it’s Warren.”
Jackson felt his pulse pick up. “What’s going on?”
“I’m on my way to the sheriff’s office,” Warren said. “But I think someone’s going to try to execute me before I get there.”
Jackson frowned, weighing the tone of panic in the man’s voice. “Ask Sheriff Chase for police protection. Have her send units to escort you in.”
“I will,” Warren said quickly, then his voice cracked. “But you’ve got to believe me, I’m innocent. The Brotherhood’s setting me up.”
Jackson didn’t answer right away.
Warren kept going, the fear spilling out in a rush. “If Avery hadn’t done that podcast on Melissa, none of this would’ve happened. The Brotherhood might’ve never found her.”
Jackson’s jaw tightened. “You don’t get to blame her for this, Warren. You made your own choices.”
“She brought the attention,” Warren said, voice rising. “You think they’d be after me if she’d just left it alone?”
Jackson’s tone dropped, cold and steady. “Watch yourself. Sheriff Chase will handle your safety, but if I find out you’re lying to me, you’ll regret it.”
The line went quiet for a beat, then disconnected.
Jackson stared at the phone for a long second, jaw still clenched.
He didn’t know if Warren was panicking, lying, or finally telling the truth.
But one thing was clear. The Brotherhood was tightening the noose.
The minutes dragged as they waited. Avery paced the length of the room, her nerves showing in every restless turn. Jackson stayed near the window, scanning the stretch of road that led toward the creek.
Then, in the distance, came the low thump of rotor blades. The sound built fast, echoing off the trees. Jackson stepped outside as the helicopter appeared over the rise, kicking up a spray of rain and leaves as it came in low.
It was a Crossfire Ops bird, matte black with the company insignia on the tail. The pilot handled it like he’d been born in the air, settling the chopper onto the road in front of the cabin with barely a shudder.
Jackson shielded his face from the rotor wash as he motioned for Avery to follow. They ran toward it, ducking instinctively as the blades beat the air.
The side door slid open, and a familiar grin greeted them. Beck Culver, former combat medic and one of Crossfire Ops’ best pilots, leaned out with a headset around his neck.
“About time you two got the VIP treatment,” Beck called over the noise. His grin faded when his eyes landed on Avery. “Hell, Avery Hastings. Been a long time.”