Page 60 of Lost Hope

Ronan tried to laugh, but it turned into a grunt of pain. His eyes found Maya, sitting quietly in one of the leather seats. She hadn’t said much since they’d made it to the plane, her face drawn and pale. It wasn’t like her—in the few days he’d known her, she’d been all sharp wit and sharper insights. Reminded him of her father, a little, though he’d never tell her that.

Griff set aside the kit and checked the dressing one last time. “You’ll live. Probably.”

“Your bedside manner hasn’t improved,” Ronan muttered, testing his range of motion.

“Neither has your ability to dodge bullets.” Griffin eyed Christian. “We need to move. Once our tail strikes out searching traffic cams, they’ll start checking airfields.”

“Copy that.” Christian nodded toward Maya. “You okay over there?”

She looked up, seemed to shake herself out of whatever thoughts had held her. “Just wondering how they knew where to find us.”

Ronan caught the way Griffin’s hands stilled for just a moment. There was more here—much more—than their friend had revealed.

“First,” Ronan said, pushing himself up with only a small wince, “we get airborne. Then you’re going to tell us exactly what kind of hornet’s nest we just kicked.”

The secure radio crackled as he headed into the cockpit, stopping him. “Knight One, this is Base. Sitrep.”

Christian moved to the comm panel in the passenger area. “Base, Knight One. Package retrieved. Minimal casualties.” He glanced at Ronan’s shoulder. “Couple of scratches. Nothing serious.”

“What about my plane?” Jack’s voice rose.

“All good, my man. Just shot up the ancillary equipment. Ronan took a round through the shoulder, but it’s all good.”

“Opposition?” Jack’s voice was tight.

“Heavy. Local law enforcement plus private contractors. Someone had advance intel on our location.” Christian paused. “High-level coordination. They knew exactly where to look.”

A long silence filled the channel. Then, “Get in the air as quick as you can. Both retrieval teams are airborne. Austin’s group and mine. Both packages secured.”

Something in Jack’s tone made Ronan look up from his pre-flight checks. There was more there—something unsaid.

“The packages?” Christian asked carefully.

“Let’s just say ... they’re not exactly what we expected. You’ll understand when you see them. Base out.”

Maya stirred from her seat. “I don’t know Jack very well, but cryptic is never good.”

“Neither is the FAA notification I’m seeing,” Christian said, checking his tablet. “They’re implementing special screening protocols at all airfields within three hundred miles.”

“Sounds like we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Griffin said, sliding into the co-pilot’s seat with the ease of someone who’d done it many times before. He started the second set of pre-flight checks without being asked. “Transponder off?”

“Roger that.” Ronan was just thinking the same thing. With the transponder off, they’d be invisible to flight tracking radar.

Ronan caught Maya and Christian exchanging looks as they moved toward the back lounge. The pain in his shoulder was becoming a dull throb, manageable now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

He pushed the throttles forward, feeling the familiar surge of the engines. Whatever they’d stumbled into, it was bigger than a simple extraction.

They maintained radio silence until reaching cruising altitude, the San Fernando Valley falling away beneath them. Ronan adjusted their heading, his jaw tight against the burning in his shoulder. The local anesthetic was already wearing thin, each small movement a reminder of torn muscle and tissue.

“So this is what a SEAL looks like when he’s pretending not to be in pain.” Maya’s voice came from just behind the cockpit door.

“I don’t pretend anything, Special Agent.” He kept his eyes forward, fighting a smile despite the throbbing in his arm.

“Right. And that wasn’t you telling Christian ‘it’s just a scratch’ while bleeding all over the tarmac?” She moved into his peripheral vision, holding out water and pills. “Take these.”

“Worried about me?”

“You mean am I concerned about the several million dollars’ worth of aircraft you’re currently piloting? Yes.” But her voice held something that belied the snark.

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