Bridger’s eyes narrowed. “You gotta be shitting me.”
Laughlin shook his head. “Hell no. I know that you blame me for Mario’s death.” He scanned the group then settled on Bridger again. “All of you do.”
Lisa nodded. “Hang the blame where it belongs.”
Laughlin shook his head. “You rogue types don’t understand the chain of command. I had people that I answered to. I damn near lost my job because of your antics after you left.” He stepped closer to Bridger and shook a finger in his face. “Agents under my command stealing munitions and going on the attack against whoever they thought should catch Uncle Sam’s brunt next? Yeah, that went over like a fart in church.”
“We did what nobody else had the balls to do.”
“And it’s precisely because I fought tooth and nail for ALL of you that none of you spent the rest of your lives behind bars!” Laughlin spat again, staining the earth red. “Blame me all you want, but if I’d had any inkling that Gomez was in trouble, you can bet your sweet ass that I would have moved heaven and hell to pull him first.”
Gregg chuckled. “He thinks you have a sweet ass.”
Bridger ignored him as he closed the distance. He towered over Laughlin who refused to bow down. “So what are you saying? You want to make amends?”
Laughlin shook his head. “I want the bastards who killed Mario just as much as you do. He was my operative a long time before you ever came into the picture.” He turned and pointed at Lisa. “I don’t know the exact nature of your relationship to him, but I looked the other way for far too long.”
Lisa snorted a laugh and flipped him the bird. “We weren’t lovers you asshole.”
“Whatever you were, you got too close to another operator.” Laughlin shook his head. “Then you blamed me when shit went sideways.” He shrugged. “Fine. Blame me. I don’t give a flying fuck anymore.” He spun back to Bridger. “But I want whoever is behind this.”
Bridger stared down at the smaller man. “We won’t be playing by the books.”
Laughlin nodded. “And I’m not here in an official capacity.” He smiled. “I’m on leave.”
Bridger looked the smaller man up then down. He turned to his team and raised a brow. “What say you?”
Lisa shrugged. “Up to you, boss. I still don’t like him.”
Mauk threw his hands into the air. “He can be a bullet sponge for me I guess.”
DJ shook his head and tossed the last box into the back of his truck. “What the hell ever.”
Bridger finally turned to Gregg who stared back stoically. “What say you, Slippy?”
Gregg sighed and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I ain’t babysitting him.”
Bridger turned back to Laughlin and gave him a stern stare. “Where’s this plane of yours?”
14
Southeastern Oklahoma
“Jeezus.” Laughlin stepped away from the rental Jeep, his mouth hanging open. “That’s a Gulf 500. I’m not even sure they’ve been FAA approved yet.”
Bridger gave him a confused look. “What are you yapping about.”
Laughlin pointed to the sleek private jet parked near the single hangar at the airport. “That. That’s money there, fellas.”
“Just looks like a plane to me,” DJ muttered as he hefted the bags from the back of his truck.
“No.” Laughlin reached for his sidearm. “We’re in Bumfuck, Oklahoma at an airport that sees maybe three prop jobs a week and two jets land here in the same day? One of them is that?”
Bridger snapped his fingers and his group was armed and making their approach. Using hand signals he split the team and approached from the front and the port side. “Check it.”
Laughlin grasped the handle and opened the door, pulling the hydraulic assisted access open just behind the cabin. Mauk and DJ covered the cockpit from outside while the rest entered the craft.
Lisa was up the steps in a flash, her pistol swinging left then right as she cleared the forward area. Bridger covered her six while Laughlin stacked at the entrance, scanning the airfield.
“Clear!” she announced as she turned and headed back through the fuselage. Bridger holstered his weapon then began rifling through the few loose items in the passenger compartment.
“Contact!” Laughlin yelled and Bridger peered through a side window. He maneuvered past the luxurious leather chairs and appeared at the hatch just as Laughlin stepped down and held his hand up, stopping a man in overalls.
“That ain’t your plane.” The man spit something dark to the ground then shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Whose plane is it?” Laughlin asked, his weapon still at the ready.
“Who are you people?” The man glared at them through narrow eyes, showing little concern that an armed group of people had just broken into the plane.
“We’re with the government.” Laughlin fished out his ID and flashed it. “Who owns this plane?”
The man leaned forward and studied his credentials for a moment then spat on the ground again. “Nice group a Mexican businessmen.”
Laughlin gave him a knowing look. “By chance do you have their flight plan?”
The man nodded. “Sure do.” He waved to them over his shoulder. “In my office.”
Bridger pulled Laughlin closer. “I’m sure it’s phony, but check it out anyway. We’re gonna poke through the cabin.”
Laughlin fell into step behind the man and Gregg followed. If the flight plan happened to match the phone records then they’d know for sure they were headed in the right direction.
“You fellas came in that other plane, yeah?” the man asked as he held the door open. “I had to special order that jet fuel for ya.”
“Speaking of…” Laughlin glanced across the tarmac. “Is my pilot here yet?”
“Not so far as I know.” The man pulled a clipboard from the wall and handed it to him. “ Looks like they flew in from Guadalajara. Made a stop in Houston before coming up here.”
Laughlin looked to Gregg who gave a slight shrug. “That’s
