Counting on Harding to keep things under control, Edge continued his hunt for the soldier who had managed to slip away. Spotting a hint of movement ahead of him in the darkness, he circled around, crept up on the rock, and pointed his rifle down at the top of the man’s head.

“One move and you’re a dead man.” The soldier froze. “Step out in the open, and toss your weapon. Do it nice and slow.”

The man eased up from his crouched position. He tossed his pistol into the air, and it disappeared into the darkness.

“Turn around and put your hands behind your back.” Edge caught a glimpse of his face as he complied. The guy was young, no more than mid-twenties, tall and well-built. Sad way to end up at such a young age. Edge moved up behind him, pulled a zip tie out of his pocket and tightened the cuff around the kid’s wrists.

“Time to join the others. Head on down the hill.” The soldier started walking, his boots thudding on the trail as he marched along. The noise muffled the sound of the man coming up fast behind him.

“Edge!” Skye stepped out of the shadows between him and another army soldier. She fired as the man brought up his pistol. The soldier squeezed off a round as he hit the dirt, the bullet missing Skye’s head by inches, pinging against the rock next to where Edge was standing.

He looked at Skye, her legs braced apart, the rifle steady in her hands.

“You okay?” she asked, swinging the rifle toward the soldier Edge had captured.

He managed to nod. “Thanks to you.” He had never seen anything so magnificent as this woman he loved. He would be dead if it hadn’t been for her. “You kill him?”

He caught Skye’s glance in the faint light from the sliver of moon. “He’s hit pretty bad. Looks like he’s still alive.”

“If you’d hesitated, I’d be dead.”

Their eyes met and held an instant before Skye turned back to the man on the ground. Edge thought of how close she had come to dying, and his mouth dried up.

They got the wounded man on his feet and marched both of them back to the circle of light. Edge spotted Markham’s lieutenant, the muscular man with the reddish-brown hair who’d been carrying the laptop case, presumably to make the funds transfer.

But where the hell was Markham? The last Edge had seen, his driver had made a run for the car and sped back down the dirt road, leaving his boss to fend for himself. Harding had Markham’s lieutenant in custody, but the major was nowhere in sight.

Then he spotted the major’s familiar figure propped against the busted-up chopper, blood trickling down the side of his head—a victim of the crash. Definitely poetic justice.