“Let me go, you son of a bitch!”
Another man entered, gun drawn, his beefy hand wrapped tightly around Tamara’s right arm as he dragged her into the hangar.
“Get your hands off of her!” Morgan stepped forward, gun pointed at the new arrival.
The man shrugged and raised his gun to point it directly at Tamara’s head.
“Ah, Dennis, what excellent timing,” Rogers said. “Gentlemen, your guns, please.”
Henry met Morgan’s gaze and read the truth in his eyes. Though both wanted to murder the man who’d dared put his hands on their woman, they really had no choice but to surrender their weapons.
“Damn it, Itty. I told you to stay put. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, the gorilla here has a grip just like a gorilla, but I’m ok.” Then she narrowed her gaze at Rogers. “Hey, asshole, get away from my Piper.”
“Your Piper?” He shook his head. “Actually, this plane last belonged to a man in my employ, a greedy little pilot by the name of Frank West.” He ran a hand through his hair. “This party’s getting way too crowded for my tastes. It’s time I just get what I came for and get the hell out of here.”
He turned and reached for the door to the plane.
“Looking for these, Rogers?”
Henry’s gaze shot to the left, toward a voice that had come from out of the shadows. A couple of footsteps preceded the appearance of Peter Alvarez, a gun held in his right hand, a cloth pouch dangling from his left.
“Who the hell are you?” Rogers demanded.
“It would seem I’m the cavalry.” He used his gun as a pointer. “You’ll want to tell your goon to take his hands off the lady. Otherwise, I do believe the Kendalls, here, will beat him to bloody death.”
Henry shifted just subtly, decreasing the distance slightly between himself and Jimmy, who’d moved so he could cover him and his brother at the same time.
“Or I could tell Dennis to just kill her,” Rogers said.
Peter nodded. “Yes, you could. But then, I’d have to kill Dennis, and while ol’ Jimmy, here, could maybe get one of the Kendalls, he wouldn’t be able to get both, so then he’d die, too. Of course by then I’d have also killed you. That’s a whole lot of unnecessary killing, don’t you think?”
Henry noticed Morgan shift just a little, too. Jimmy’s attention seemed to be going between Peter and his boss.
Just a few more inches, Henry knew, and they’d be able to move. Morgan could take Jimmy. Henry would launch himself toward their woman.
“You’re bluffing.” Rogers sounded convinced, but Henry noticed the slight doubt in his eyes.
“No, actually, I’m not. I’m offering a fair trade—these very valuable, uncut diamonds, which, by the way, I removed from behind the pilot’s seat in the Piper while it was still in John Smith’s barn, which also would have been the same time I put the GPS device in it so I could track it—for everyone walking away from here, safe and sound.”
Rogers narrowed his eyes. “Who the hell are you?”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t introduce myself, did I? What would my mother think of my bad manners? I’m Special Agent Peter Alvarez, Justice Department, Drug Enforcement Agency.”
“And you expect me to believe you’re just going to let me walk with a fistful of uncut diamonds? You, a fed? What will you tell your bosses?” Rogers scoffed.
Henry shifted. He hoped to hell Peter had a plan because he didn’t think Rogers was going to be reasonable. Then he noticed that Peter had edged his way closer to Tamara. Their woman, for her part, seemed to be standing unnaturally still and quiet.
“Shit happens,” Peter said.
Everything seemed to happen at once. Tamara raised her left hand and brought it back, hard and fast, ramming Dennis’ leg. The man screamed and dropped his gun.
Morgan moved toward Jimmy and Henry dove for Tamara. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to the floor, rolling to protect her.
Two gunshots rang out, and the door to the outside burst open. “Freeze! Hands where I can see them!”
Henry sighed as the voice of his brother, Adam, took command of the situation. The sound of several pairs of feet running inside the hangar let Henry know the real cavalry had arrived.
“You flyboys seem to enjoy tackling me,” Tamara grumbled from beneath him.
Henry smiled. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”
“Shit, you went and got your damn stupid ass shot when you promised you wouldn’t!”
The words galvanized Henry, and Tamara too, apparently, because she scrambled to her feet and turned with him to face the others.
Rogers was on the floor, with Adam kneeling on his back as he slapped handcuffs on him. Jimmy lay still, bleeding on the concrete, while Matthew Benedict stood in a two-handed police stance, his gun trained on Dennis, who held his leg and whimpered like a baby.
Henry’s gaze sought Morgan, and he sighed with relief when he saw him, whole and uninjured, heading toward their brother Jordan, currently producing a very creative string of cuss words.
Henry, with Tamara in tow, followed.
“Yeah, yeah,” Peter said. Sitting on the floor, his right hand clutched his left arm. From between his fingers, blood glistened. “A little dustup now and then goes with the territory. You better accept that right from the get-go. Now, do you want to quit your swearing and give me a hand, here?”
“Tell me, do your family parties always get this exciting?” Tamara asked no one in particular.
Henry laughed. “Only if we’re lucky.”
* * * *
They’d missed the traditional send-off of the newlyweds. Tamara thought, all things considered, that was probably just as well. It meant the newlyweds had also missed having the “dustup at the airfield,” as Peter had called it, infringe on their special day.
Jordan and Matthew had taken Peter to the clinic, where the doctor on duty had seen to his wound. Thankfully, the bullet just grazed him. Dr. James Jessop had disinfected and stitched and made Peter promise he’d keep the
