“Raider likes to keep me under wraps, for obvious reasons. I think once he got to know me and found out about my father, his idea for a new venture with you took place.” She tried to simper but had to sniff instead. “You’re welcome.” If she moved to the left, she could punch his wrist, and he’d drop the gun. But could she grab it before he could? And if so, did she have time to shoot him before Josh did anything? He probably had a gun up there.

Jonny’s gaze narrowed. “Do you know where the journal is?”

She blinked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s in the journal?”

Jonny pursed his lips. “If you’re lying to me, you’re going to bleed. However, if you’re telling the truth, you might be of more use than I originally thought.”

She rolled her eyes. “Raider won’t negotiate for me. He’ll come in with knives flying and just cut out your throat. You have to know that from checking him out.” Just how good were the Coonan hackers? Raider’s cover was solid, but no fake ID would hold up forever.

They drove for about an hour toward the mountains, finally reaching a small dirt runway used for crop dusters. Rain sluiced over a small private jet at the end. She shook her head. “That’s crazy. There’s not enough runway.”

Josh chortled from the front seat. “You should’ve seen us land. Nearly hit that mountain.”

She eyed the gun pointed at her. Should she make a run for it?

* * *

Raider kicked his slashed tire, frustration roaring through him so quickly he swayed. Turning, he leaped over the creek and ran for the house while the fire crackled wildly behind him. Where the hell was Sean? Old-fashioned storm cellar doors were wide open on the side of the house, and he ran to them, jogging down crumbling stairs where blood drops and rain mingled.

He paused at the dank bottom. A bulb hung suspended from the ceiling, swinging and revealing rickety shelves holding cracked and discarded canning jars. He ran past them and turned left, into another room with a heavy metal door.

“Holy crap,” Raider muttered at seeing Sean in the middle of a weapons room. Handguns, automatic shotguns, even some grenades in the corner. And dynamite. A bloody bandana was wrapped around Sean’s upper arm as he shoved guns and knives in his waistband. “What the hell?”

Sean looked over his shoulder, his serious eyes the same shade as Brigid’s. “Can you shoot?”

“Yes.” Raider’s nostrils flared.

Sean tossed him a SIG Sauer and a shotgun, which Raider easily caught. He shoved the SIG in his waistband. “Where would they take her?” Raider asked.