Terra blew out a breath. “So, it stands to reason that Carter came here tonight to look for the package so he can deliver it and get paid. Or deliver and not die like Jim and Neva.”

“You could be right.” Jack held her gaze. “What’s happening now? Still talking?”

“A waitress delivered beers. Maybe they haven’t gotten down to business yet.”

Terra looked into Jack’s eyes and saw the questions swirling. They had more questions than answers.

A ruckus at the back drew her attention. Adrenaline shoved through her veins, and she palmed her weapon in her shoulder holster. “Carter stood up. He’s reaching across the table now. He’s grabbing Leif by the collar like he’s threatening him.”

“Another change of plans.” Jack stood. “We need to leave now.”

“What? Why?”

“You don’t want to be sitting there when Leif walks out.”

FIFTY

Chance had taken more risks than usual tonight. Anger boiled through him, and he sucked down another cold beer before he trusted his legs not to follow that murderer through the door. If he hadn’t known to watch his back before, he knew to watch it now.

He thought back to the moment he’d watched the man enter the bar, nod and wink at the waitress, take in everyone in the room without being obvious, and stroll to the back. Recognition slammed into Chance, and he almost choked on the microbrew he’d been trying thanks to the waitress’s recommendation and some extra cash, compliments of Blevins.

He’d gotten control over his emotions. Regained his composure mere moments before the guy slid into the booth across from him.

Then the guy had the nerve to smirk. “So, you survived.”

Chance gained control over his anger, but he still ground out the words. “You. You were responsible for the crash. You sabotaged my plane.”

Chance had seen him back at the hangar right before he’d left for Montana. After Chance had finished his preflight check, he made sure his tanks were full of fuel and then he ran quickly to use the facilities. This guy had been talking to another pilot across the hangar.

The guy lifted his hands. “Nothing personal.”

“Just business?” Chance gripped his beer mug much too tightly. That was to keep from slamming it into this guy’s head. He didn’t need to draw attention to himself, especially since he’d spotted a plainclothes cop enter the bar.

“Yes. My business. I had planned to meet someone else here tonight. But it looks like you’ve taken his place.”

Blevins. “I’m here to deal in his place.” And get my hands around your throat if given the opportunity. “What’s your name?”

“No names.”