FIFTY
Chance had taken more risks than usual tonight. Anger boiled through him, and he sucked down another cold beer before he trusted his legs not to follow that murderer through the door. If he hadn’t known to watch his back before, he knew to watch it now.
He thought back to the moment he’d watched the man enter the bar, nod and wink at the waitress, take in everyone in the room without being obvious, and stroll to the back. Recognition slammed into Chance, and he almost choked on the microbrew he’d been trying thanks to the waitress’s recommendation and some extra cash, compliments of Blevins.
He’d gotten control over his emotions. Regained his composure mere moments before the guy slid into the booth across from him.
Then the guy had the nerve to smirk. “So, you survived.”
Chance gained control over his anger, but he still ground out the words. “You. Youwere responsible for the crash. You sabotaged my plane.”
Chance had seen him back at the hangar right before he’d left for Montana. After Chance had finished his preflight check, he made sure his tanks were full of fuel and then he ran quickly to use the facilities. This guy had been talking to another pilot across the hangar.
The guy lifted his hands. “Nothing personal.”
“Just business?” Chance gripped his beer mug much too tightly. That was to keep from slamming it into this guy’s head. He didn’t need to draw attention to himself, especially since he’d spotted a plainclothes cop enter the bar.
“Yes. My business. I had planned to meet someone else here tonight. But it looks like you’ve taken his place.”
Blevins. “I’m here to deal in his place.” And get my hands around your throat if given the opportunity. “What’s your name?”
“No names.”
“You already know mine. Since you’re uncooperative, I’ll call you Darth Maul, in keeping with our Bar Wars meeting and the mask above your head. So, Darth Maul, where’s the package you were supposed to bring tonight? Did you sabotage my plane just so you could get your hands on it to make the delivery, and that somehow got messed up? Do you realize you could have destroyed the package completely? You killed Ole Blue.”
“I don’t care about the condition of the package. I only care about who wants it and where to find them.”
Darth Maul only knew that Chance was delivering a high-priced item, but he didn’t know to whom. “That isn’t how it works. You said no names, remember. Besides, I courier packages and drop them off where I’m told. I don’t know the what or the who.”
“Then why are you here?”
“The same as you, I suppose. I had hoped to get the package and finish my delivery so that I would know who’s behind it.”
“And no one has contacted you to make new arrangements?” Darth Maul’s eyes were sinister. Chance could imagine his face painted with red and black like the character.
With the murders, Blevins was scared and only too happy to let Chance take his place while he disappeared until it was safe to return. Chance hoped to meet the murderer, the person who had intercepted the package and taken it from Jim. This guy had sabotaged Chance’s plane—why? So he could pick up the pieces? What was left of the artifact? Destroy the delivery? Chance believed he had to have murdered Jim. But they were at a standoff if Darth Maul was also asking who was behind trafficking this item. Chance was after the same information. He wanted to know the man behind the blackmail, and then he would personally deliver the artifact to make sure that he was free forever. Except he didn’t have it.
However, if he got his hands on the item in question, then he should turn it over to the police and connect the dots for them. But if he did that, he had no doubt he would be the next murder victim. Other lives were at risk too.
Without the name behind the blackmail and this delivery, he couldn’t face off and end this once and for all. In the meantime, Darth Maul needed to be locked up for his crimes. In addition to Jim and Neva, this man had killed Ole Blue.
Chance was no murderer, and he didn’t like that he had any part in this. He wouldn’t be working with this guy. Instead, they were competitors.
Darth Maul narrowed his eyes. “I know who you are.”
Chance’s pulse spiked. “I thought we had already established that.”
“No. Your real name and identity before. Chief Warrant Officer...” He trailed off. True to his words. No names.
Chance couldn’t believe it.
“I know how you’re connected now, and thanks to you, I also know who’s behind it. Thanks for the intel.”
“What intel? I haven’t told you anything. What are you talking about?”
Darth Maul pulled a photograph from his pocket and slid it forward to Chance. Chance reached across the booth and grabbed him by the collar. This guy knew more than he was sharing, and Chance wanted answers.
Darth Maul gave him a name. That information confused Chance, and he released the man, who slipped out of the booth and walked away.
Chance had watched the cops head out the front door ahead of Darth Maul. Myriad emotions had spiked through his head. This had gone on too long and too far.
Chance could probably expect to greet a few cops himself on the way out the front door. Maybe even the back. He didn’t have time for the cops. He had to end this before it was too late and someone else ended up dead. Chance had seen it in the man’s eyes—he was a killer. Darth Maul didn’t care about the package. He only cared about who was behind the deliveries. Just like Chance. And Darth Maul had figured it all out by simply sitting here looking at Chance.
He stared down at what Darth Maul had left behind. How had the man gotten his hands on this picture? Chance and his crew—maintenance guys and his copilot/gunner—in front of an Apache helicopter.