Crap. Not going to work. He hammered the brakes. Kirstie's screams bounced through the craft, echoed in his ears.
Denial roared through his veins. But he wouldn't allow emotions to assume control, especially not with Paige's and Kirstie's lives at stake. Training-honed instincts overrode all else, especially too-distracting memories of the shoot down in Rubistan.
Snap. Jolt. The front gear popped off.
Protect Paige and Kirstie. The mantra pulsed through him in time with the teeth-jarring thud of the Cessna against the barrier. The nose slammed over and into the dirt. The seat belt cut into him as his weight pressed forward. The plane shuddered to a halt.
Dust cleared to expose three figures looming beside a large vehicle with headlights streaking ahead. The moon eased from behind a cloud with enough illumination to reveal...
A Suburban. Anderson's. The man stood still and tall, flanked by two men. None of them moving to help or giving any signs of distress over the emergency. Moonbeams glinted off three weapons pointed directly at the plane.
Damn. They'd been lured here. That dead horse on the runway was no accident, although it would surely appear accidental to investigators later, since animals wandered into the road frequently in this area.
He only had a minute at most to speak to Paige and Kirstie away from the others. He needed to make the most of every second and bring Paige up to speed since she was still focused on Kirstie, both pale but seemingly unharmed.
"Paige, you need to look outside. Now."
Her gasp swelled through the Cessna. "Ohmigod."
"Wait and let them come to us." Which would buy him time to think and strategize. "Is everyone okay? Paige? Kirstie?"
He couldn't afford to take his eyes off the men outside again. He reached by touch to snag his cell phone out of his duffel bag full of flight gear, the stench of the smoking engine an acrid reminder they could well be screwed inside the plane, as well.
"I'm fine," Paige answered, her voice shaky but strong considering the hellish situation.
Thank God.
"Me, too," Kirstie whispered. "What's going on? I'm scared."
He allowed himself a quick heartbeat of relief, holding the cell low and out of sight while he thumbed 911. "Paige, no matter what, keep Kirstie close to you."
Kirstie leaned. "Who are you c—"
The side door jerked open. Crap. He inched the cell phone under his seat and prayed someone was on the other end of the line listening. Tough to count on reliable cell tower coverage out-here, but he would relay as much as possible on the off chance the cops could hear. "Anderson, put down the gun. We don't want anyone to get hurt, Chuck."
There. He'd gotten both the man's first and last name out in a normal sounding way. He forced himself to think, stay cool. He wouldn't let this be a repeat of his capture in Rubistan where people were hurt because of his recklessness.
"We'll talk outside the plane." The twin beams of the Suburban headlights backlit the beefy farmer, casting his face in shadows. "Now put your hands where I can see them."
Bo leaned to climb out ahead of the others, keeping them inside the safety of the plane as long as possible.
Anderson shook his head. "Nu-uh, Rokowsky. Kirstie comes out first."
Eyes adjusting to the dark while Anderson lifted out the child, Bo studied the other two men—one of Anderson's stable hands in a repairman's uniform shirt holding a Glock.
Damned if he didn't look like the fast glimpse of the air show "Eddie" who'd spoken to Kirstie.
Bo checked the third and final gun-toting goon. The crummy substitute pilot? Rusty something-or-another, and he obviously had a connection to Anderson. Rusty wasn't messing around here either, not with an AR-15 held hip level. That assault rifle carried too much firepower for his peace of mind.
The odds were crap, three men with guns. There wasn't a chance in hell they would let them walk out of this alive, now that they'd been identified. Hopefully, the 911 call would net results. Fast. He'd left the phone on for the dispatcher to listen while he stalled and prayed.
If help didn't arrive in time out here in the middle of nowhere? He would have to take them all out. He'd kicked ass against larger groups than this growing up, and over things not nearly as important. In fact, there was nothing more important in his world than the woman and child with him.
Bo vaulted to the ground and reached back to grasp Paige's waist, lifting her out of the plane. Their eyes met and held in dim starlight. The gentle give of her warmth under his hands fired more resolve through him. He gave her waist a light squeeze and hoped it said enough. How he loved her, admired her. How he wouldn't let her or her child down.
Kirstie sniffled louder, hiccups turning into tears. She cried, extending her arms, damn near cutting Bo's heart out. "I want my mama! Eddie, tell these guys to stop."
"Make the brat shut up." Anderson shoved Kirstie toward her mother, all but dumping her at Paige's feet even while keeping his weapon level and steady. "We need her calm enough to talk."