Chris and little Sarah. He could help save hundreds of people’s lives.
Her breath trembled out. It was what Bran Garrett did. He protected people, as he had protected her. He risked his life for those less able. He was good at it. Better than good. One of the best in the world.
And she loved him for it. She loved him, and even as she stared at the possibility of his death inside the terminal, she knew that being with him was worth the risk. As her mother had accepted her father’s role as a soldier and loved him every day they shared together, Jessie was prepared to love Brandon every day of their lives.
Taking a deep breath, she steadied her grip on the wheel. Just like Bran, she had work to do. Turning the car around, she headed back the way they had come, careful to keep out of sight until she reached a spot a safe distance away.
There she would wait. Until this was over, she would be there for Bran, the way he was always there for her.
* * *
With sirens howling, evacuation orders blaring, and people trying to get out of the airport, most of those on the lower floor had already fled. Just a few stragglers, shoving through the glass doors, running in the opposite direction, away from the danger.
The lower level entrances were used to bring in supplies and equipment. Bran figured that was likely the way the terrorists had accessed the concourse, as employees who worked in terminal support. Vetting people who worked at the big international airports was a nightmare.
After a check of the area, he returned to the door leading to the lower level. No one remained on the other side of the glass as he approached and shoved the door open. He figured the missing three terrorists were somewhere down here, patrolling the lower level corridors in case of an assault.
He picked a spot out of sight, stripped off his down jacket, leaving him in a dark blue Henley, jeans, and low-topped leather boots. Unzipping his gear bag, he took out his Colt AR-15 full-auto assault rifle, illegal as hell, and set it to bursts of three. He’d never fired it in the States, hoped he’d never have to. The suppressor would cut the sound, but not completely.
Lots of goodies in the bag—spare ammo, flash grenades, tactical vest, his Ka-Bar knife—if he could get back to where he left them. He stuffed a spare .380 mag in the inside pocket of the jacket and zipped it as much as he could, draped the jacket over the rifle, stashed the bag out of sight, and went hunting.
* * *
Fighting hard not to show her fear, Hallie sat on the floor, her legs curled beneath her, one of the kids on each side, tucked under her arms. Chris’s face was pale, his child-size folding wheelchair abandoned a few feet away. Sarah’s blue eyes were huge and glassy with tears.
“Everything’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” Hallie said, giving them both a hug. “Your daddy’s here. He won’t let anyone hurt you.” She had always loved kids. She had fallen madly in love with Ty’s.
Sarah looked up at her, her bottom lip trembling. “Those men look really mean.”
“We just need to do what they say and we’ll be okay.”
“Dad was a ranger,” Chris said. “He can protect us.”
Ty leaned over and spoke to him softly. “I’m going to need your help with that, son. All right?”
Chris nodded solemnly.
“They’re the bad guys. We don’t tell them I’m a ranger. We don’t tell them anything.”
“Okay.”
Both kids had long ago accepted Ty as their father. It was easy to see how much he loved them. He would die for his family, Hallie knew, which now included her. Her throat tightened. Please, God, keep all of us safe.
The kids lapsed into silence. One of the terrorists, the man she had dubbed Snake because he slipped silently around watching everyone, walked toward them. He was tall and thin, with high cheekbones and slashing black eyebrows. He was young and handsome and wearing a long white robe. Unlike the other two that she had seen up close, he was clean-shaven, while they had short-cropped beards and wore black slacks and white shirts.
Ty eased the phone beneath his thigh as the man approached, a long-fingered hand on the assault rifle across his chest. Long-lashed black eyes surveyed the people huddled on the floor. The absolute power he was feeling registered in every