The Ultimate Betrayal

by Kat Martin

  Bran returned to the plane, and it took two trips to get their bags out of the cargo hold, including the medical kit, survival gear, and his weapons bag, and carry it all back to where Jessie sat on the dry grass.

  He took a few precious minutes to put a butterfly bandage over the wound on her head, then they layered up and Jessie helped him condense their stuff down to the basics: laptops, his cell phone, weapons and ammo, the emergency kit, and survival equipment. The stuff went into in his black canvas duffel, clothes in a single carry-on.

  Bran clipped his Glock to his belt. “You ready for this?”

  She nodded. “At the moment, walking beats the heck of flying.”

  He chuckled. He couldn’t resist cupping her cheek, bending his head to press a soft kiss on her lips. They started walking, heading for the highway in search of a ride, hoping the men who brought down the plane weren’t out there somewhere waiting.

  Knowing there was a damn good chance they would be.

  TWENTY-SIX

  As anxious as he was to get away from the downed aircraft, Bran kept his pace slow, not wanting to press Jessie too hard. The uneven ground was rough and taxing, the temperature dropping by the minute.

  They were both cold, tired, and hungry, their bodies battered and bruised by the brutally hard landing. No choice but to keep going. There was nothing behind them but trouble.

  Relief trickled through him when he spotted the highway up ahead, only to discover it was nothing but a two-lane road with almost no traffic.

  It was nearly dark, just a thin line of purple on the horizon, and ball-freezing cold as they stood bundled up at the edge of the pavement waiting for a ride. Bran hated the thought of Jessie having to spend the night out in the elements, especially with a concussion, but it was looking more and more likely.

  He’d already spotted a place to make camp, off to the west at the base of a granite outcropping. He’d have to check for snakes denned up out of the cold, but at least the rocks would provide a decent windbreak. He’d give it another fifteen minutes before heading over. Then he’d dig out the survival gear he’d taken from the plane.

  Resigned to the cold night ahead, he glanced down the road, his adrenaline spiking when he spotted two distant headlights bumping over the uneven asphalt. As the lights grew near, he stepped into the lane and started waving his arms, but the vehicle wasn’t slowing. Then Jessie stepped out and started waving.

  The ancient Chevy pickup slowed to a rolling stop and pulled over to the side of the road a little ways in front of them.

  “Nice work,” Bran said, smiling.

  Jessie smiled back as she hurried along beside him. “There are definitely some advantages to being female.”

  He nodded. “A universal truth.”

  As they approached the pickup, a white-haired, white-bearded Hispanic man leaned his head out the window, his face as wrinkled as the truck was battered. “Where are you going?” There were three other men inside, crammed tightly together.

  Bran eyed the bed of the truck—it was better than a night in the cold. “We rolled our car. My wife and I are going to the first town where we can get a room.”

  The old man’s eyes took in the bloodstained bandage on the side of Jessie’s head and the cuts on Bran’s face. “Sí, senor. I will take you. Get in the back.”

  Bran loaded the duffel and carry-on into the truck bed, which was stacked with old furniture and several crates of chickens. He pushed one of the crates aside enough to make room for them, ignored the smell, and helped Jessie climb in. He settled an old wooden dresser in front of them to help block the icy wind and sat down as the pickup rolled off down the highway.

  “I apologize for the accommodations,” he said with a smile, squeezing in beside her. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a Four Seasons in the next town we come to.”

  Jessie rolled her eyes. There wasn’t a town of any size for miles in any direction. “At this point, a Motel 6 would be a luxury.”

  “You got that right.” He settled her more snugly against him, his arms around Jessie, her head on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  She sighed. “I’ve been better, but I’m okay.”

  “How’s your head?”

  “Still hurts, but my feet hurt worse. New boots, remember?”

  “Yeah, they never feel good the first day. We’ll work them over when we get into the room.” Assuming they could find one.

  The truck rattled and bumped along the road, the chickens occasionally flapping their wings and squawking. Jessie dozed for a while and he let her, waking her occasionally to make sure she was okay.

  They’d been on the road for an hour when the pickup made a turn onto a smaller paved road, and he spotted a sign that read Walsenburg. He knew where it was on the map, knew it wasn’t far off I-25, which he would have preferred, but at least they would be out of the cold.

  When the pickup pulled into the parking lot of the Sands Motel, he breathed a sigh of relief. He tossed out their gear, helped Jessie out of the truck, and spoke to the old man through the window.

  “Gracias, senor. We really appreciate the ride.” He’d been deployed to South America, spoke fluent Spanish, but sometimes it was better not to show all your cards.

  “Sí, senor, no problem. Buena suerte, amigos.”

  Bran waved goodbye, didn’t offer to pay for the ride though he would have liked to. Letting strangers know you were carrying cash was never a good idea.

  “I’ll go get us a room,” Jessie offered, spotting the Sands’s front office.

  He glanced around. “Hold on a minute.” There were three motel signs he could see along the road. He hated asking Jessie to go any farther, but his survival instincts were something he never ignored.

  He handed her his encrypted cell phone. “Call the Mountain Pines. See if they’ve got a room. I’d feel better if no one knows where we are, including our new friends.”

  She nodded and made the call, spoke to the desk clerk, then handed back his cell. “I told them we’d be there in five minutes. That way we can pay cash when we arrive.”

  “Good idea.” From here on out, he wasn’t using his credit cards. He had no idea what capabilities these people had. Considering they had just crashed his plane, he wasn’t taking any chances.

  The motel was a single-story concrete-block building, all the rooms opening onto the parking lot. As soon as they were settled in room number 8, he phoned Chase.

  “Hey, big brother.”

  “Bran. About time you checked in.”

  “First chance I’ve had to call.”

  “I’m damn glad to hear from you. Reese has been bugging me to find out what’s going on. You called off his lawyer so I assume you’re out of jail. Both of us have been worried sick.”

  “I’m afraid we got a problem.” Bran ran a hand over the roughness along his jaw. “They crashed your plane, bro. Tampered with the fuel. Nothing I could do.”

  A long pause. “You okay? You and Jessie are safe?”

  “Made an emergency landing in a field south of Colorado Springs. Plane’s a mess but it didn’t explode. You’ll have to send a truck to haul it in for repairs.”

  “I don’t give a damn about the frigging plane. It’s you two I’m worried about. What the hell happened?”

  He was surprised at the comfort that came with his brother’s concern. “Piece of the prop came through the Plexiglas when the nose went into the ground. I’m bruised and a little banged up, but I’m okay. I’m monitoring Jessie for a concussion. She definitely got the worst of it.”

  “Jesus, Bran.”

  “We’re in a little town off the highway.” He purposely didn’t say the name. He trusted the encryption only so far. “They’ll be looking for us. I didn’t file a flight plan or send a Mayday so we won’t be that easy to find.”

  “Christ.”


  “I know. But we’re making progress. If we weren’t, they wouldn’t be coming on so strong. We’re heading for California tomorrow. There’s a woman named Mara Ramos. She’s ass-deep in this thing. Or at least that’s the way it looks.”

  “You put Tabby on her?”

  “Tabby found her after she disappeared. Now that our other lead has stalled, I’ll get back with Tab, see if she can go deeper.”

  “You guys need to get out of there. I’m calling Reese. He’ll send the jet. I need your location. I’ll call you back as soon as we figure the closest airstrip that’ll work.”

  Hoping the phone wasn’t being monitored, Bran gave him the name of the town and ended the call. It was worth the risk to bring in the jet. They really needed to get out of Colorado and get to California. They had to make this end. At the moment, Mara Ramos was their best chance of that happening.

  He glanced over at Jessie, who was sitting on the bed, shoulders slumped, looking tired and pale and worried. “What did Chase say?”

  “He’s worried about us. He’s sending the jet to pick us up, take us to California.”

  Her eyes widened. “You have a jet?”

  He grinned. “Company jet. Cessna Citation CJ4. Comes in handy sometimes.”

  “Now that I think about it, Chase mentioned it that day in your office.” She cocked an eyebrow. “So I guess he wasn’t mad about the plane.”

  “Like I said, he was worried. Of the three of us, Chase is by far the better pilot. I always paid attention when we flew together.” He smiled. “I mentally channeled him when I made the landing.”

  “I think you’re a pretty damn good pilot yourself.”

  He sat down on the bed beside her, took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips. “You were great today. No one I would rather have crash-landed with.” He leaned over and softly kissed her.

  Jessie kissed him back. “Me, either.”

  Bran urged her to lie back on the bed and rest, then used his phone to find a pizza place that delivered. But Jessie was too tired to eat. He was sure her head was still pounding like a hammer inside her skull.

  “Get some sleep, baby.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I’ll wake you every once in a while so we know you’re okay.”

  “What about you? You were up all night last night. Today has been exhausting. You need sleep as much as I do.”

  “I’ll sleep once we’re safe.” Which they wouldn’t be until they were long gone from the Mountain Pines Motel.

  * * *

  Jessie stirred as Bran gently shook her awake for the second time that night. “I’m okay,” she said groggily, then yawned, curled up, and closed her eyes. Her head still throbbed, but she was so exhausted she was able to ignore the pain and go back to sleep.

  At dawn Bran nudged her awake again. It was barely light outside. “You have to get dressed. We’ve got a ride coming to take us to the jet. It’ll be landing at the Cuchara Valley Airport in half an hour. That’s about a twenty-minute drive from here.”

  She tossed off the covers, swayed a little as she rose to her feet.

  Bran caught her waist to steady her. “Easy. You don’t have to rush. The jet won’t leave if we’re a few minutes late.”

  She took a deep breath and the dizziness receded. “I’m all right.” Making her way into the tiny bathroom, she hurried through her morning routine, then dressed in a clean sweater instead of the bloodstained one she’d worn on the plane, with the same jeans and boots. She noticed the boots felt a little better.

  “I took a hammer to them,” Bran said. “Old army trick. Usually helps.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.” She drank a cup of hot water instead of the coffee he’d made in the small pot on the dresser. No caffeine, he’d said, until her head felt better.

  She was definitely not looking forward to another plane ride, but a run-in with the men who were trying to kill them would be far worse.

  Ten minutes later, dressed and ready, she jumped at a knock at the door. Bran drew his weapon, checked the peephole, and pulled it open.

  “I’m Alejandro Nunez,” the man on the front step said. “Your brother Reese asked me to pick you up.” He looked like a local, midfifties, fine threads of gray in his thick black hair, a sun-browned, weathered complexion.

  Bran holstered his weapon. “I talked to him. He said he was sending someone. How do you know my brother?”

  “I own the Double Eagle Ranch. A couple of years ago, Reese came to the ranch to go fishing with my son, Luis.”

  Bran tipped his head in her direction. “This is Jessie Kegan. We appreciate your help.”

  Nunez smiled, digging lines into his sun-darkened forehead. “Your brother gave Luis a job when he first got out of college. He is a friend.” Nunez reached down and grabbed the carry-on sitting just inside the door, while Bran picked up his duffel and slung the strap over his shoulder.

  Since the room had been paid in advance, they crossed the parking lot to a newer model, extended cab Dodge Ram pickup with mud on the tires. Bran helped Jessie into the front passenger seat and climbed into the backseat behind her.

  The radio played country music as the pickup rolled along the road to the rural airport, apparently the closest around with a runway long enough for the jet to land.

  The plane was waiting when the pickup drove onto the airstrip, a sleek white jet with a red stripe down the side. Its powerful engines were running, the steps down, waiting for its passengers to arrive.

  Nunez extended a weathered hand to Bran and then to Jessie. “Perhaps you will come back sometime and go fishing. It is beautiful up here in the spring.”

  Jessie glanced at Brandon. With luck, their investigation would be over long before spring. She would be safe back in Denver and Bran would be at work back in Dallas.

  His eyes found hers an instant before his attention returned to Nunez. “You never know,” he said. “Maybe we’ll do that.” But they both knew it wasn’t going to happen.

  “Thanks, Mr. Nunez, for everything,” Jessie said.

  “It’s Alejandro and both of you stay safe.”

  A young blond steward met them as they started across the tarmac. He took the carry-on and Bran’s duffel and fell in behind them. Jessie’s gaze went to the black-haired man who appeared at the top of the stairs, quickly descended, and enveloped Bran in a big bear hug.

  “Damned glad to see you, Bran.”

  “Reese! What the hell, bro? You didn’t have to come.”

  Tall, with a lean, solid build, eyes an even more intense shade of blue than Brandon’s, and the face of a fallen angel, Reese Garrett, CEO of Garrett Resources, exuded power and authority.

  “I’m glad to see you’re actually mobile,” Reese said, smiling. “The master of understatement I know you to be, I figured a little banged up could be anything from busted ribs to a broken neck.”

  A corner of Bran’s mouth edged up as he turned to introduce her. “Reese, this is Jessie Kegan. She actually got the worst of it. Pretty bad cut on the side of her head, and it looks like she’s got a concussion.”

  Reese nodded. “We’ll take care of it once we’re aboard.” He extended his hand to her. “I’m Reese. It’s nice to meet you, Jessie.”

  “You as well, Reese. I can’t thank you enough for coming to help.”

  He just shrugged. “The plane belongs to the family. Let’s get aboard and get the hell out of here before trouble finds us.”

  She nodded, turned, and climbed the stairs, liking the middle Garrett brother on first meeting. Bran got her settled in one of the honey-colored, butter-soft leather seats, then took the seat across the aisle.

  Configured the way it was, the cabin was roomy, with club seating for four and a sofa along one wall. Two pilots manned the cockpit.

  “Once we’re in the air,” Reese said, “Dr. Chandler wil
l take a look at both of you.” He sat down in a seat opposite Jessie, across the aisle from a distinguished-looking gentleman with thinning silver hair. Even before their seat belts were in place, the plane began taxiing down the runway.

  Bran looked out the window as the jet gathered speed, the landscape soon roaring past in a blur. “You sure this strip is long enough to get this little beauty in the air?”

  Reese grinned, and suddenly Jessie saw the resemblance between the two brothers.

  “That’s the nice thing about a Citation. Requires shorter runways, ranges over two thousand nautical miles, and cruises at five hundred miles an hour. Plus it’s more economical to run a light jet as opposed to a midsize, which we don’t really need.”

  Bran chuckled. “Count on you to think of saving money.”

  Reese smiled. “Goes with the job.” Silence fell as the jet engines roared and the plane tilted upward, pressing them back into their seats.

  For an instant, Jessie’s mind strayed to the moments yesterday before the plane hit the ground, and her heart started racing. Bran reached across the narrow aisle and his hand covered hers, lacing their fingers together. She released a slow breath. Bran was there. Everything would be okay.

  Twenty minutes into the flight, Dr. Charles Chandler had diagnosed her with a slight concussion and put three stitches in the side of her head. Bran carried miscellaneous cuts and bruises, but he was okay. Reese retrieved ham-and-egg croissants, fruit, and coffee from the refreshment center.

  Bran declined the coffee but quickly downed a couple of croissants. As soon as he’d finished, he headed for the sofa, feeling safe for the first time in days. In seconds, he was asleep.

  Jessie’s heart squeezed as she watched him, this man she had come to respect and care for, a man willing to protect her with his life.

  Feeling Reese’s eyes on her, she turned in his direction. “You’re worried about him,” he said.

  She felt a stinging behind her eyes, quickly blinked it away. “People have tried to kill him. He was thrown in jail. He survived a plane crash. He hasn’t slept in days. All because of me.”