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suggested.
    “Sure thing.”   Not a chance. What if this pilot called in the police? He might even think he was doing her a favor. She hadn’t seen any vehicles pulling into the airport as they taxied to the hangars, which might mean the men chasing her hadn’t gotten Zane’s flight plan.
    Settling back into the seat to convince him she was content to wait, she hoped he’d be gone long enough for her to disable or remove the armband. There had to be tools on board. Surely Mason’s men couldn’t track her this far away, but no point in taking that chance.
    Zane opened the cargo hatch and left the steps in place when he exited the airplane.
    Angel waited until he’d walked around to the opposite side and headed toward the terminal where soft lights glowed inside. She’d been eyeing a pair of yellow work gloves on the floor behind his seat and reached over to snag them. They swallowed her hands, but she could make them work. Unbuckling her harness, she hurried to the rear of the cargo hold to search through the darkness for a bag or storage bin. 
    She ran her hands across a rectangular box mounted against the wall. The latch popped open. With a shaft of ambient light drifting in from the open hatch, she could identify a screwdriver, pliers, and a file kind of thing, but smiled when her gloved fingers caught on two sharp points – tin snips.
    Maybe her luck hadn’t run out after all.
    She caught the sound of someone calling out a greeting and started forward in the cabin. Through the rain-streaked window next to the pilot’s seat, she spied Zane speaking with a man wearing khaki pants and a windbreaker. His client. That meant Zane would be back soon. She dropped down and quickly cut through the bracelet, then crimped the metal pieces several times, hoping to destroy the tracking components.
    Another peek outside the cockpit and her moment of relief came to a screeching halt.
    A black Land Rover bearing the signature gold triangle of Lorde Industries crept into the airport and parked next to the far hangar. Dread fingered across her skin. Mason’s men had tracked her after all, which meant they must have gotten access to Zane’s flight plan. She checked Zane to see if he’d noticed the Land Rover, but he stood talking with his back to the vehicle.
    Life never got any easier.
    Her pulse throbbed in her throat. If Mason’s men caught her with the coins she had no bargaining power and no way out of this mess. And Zane Black would be a mere inconvenience in their way.
    She searched through the bag he’d pulled the thermos from earlier. She’d never been one to pilfer through someone else’s personal belongings, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance. Her hand closed around a flashlight. Bingo.
    Most of the containers in the cargo hold were consigned to High Vision Laboratories. Shielding the light from the windows, she ran the beam close over the labels on miscellaneous packages and boxes in the rear.
    She had to find one not slated for Jacksonville.
    Giving up the coins could mean her death, but the last thing she wanted to do was get caught by Mason’s men with the coins on her. She’d have zero bargaining power.
    She’d hide them in a package in here, then once she had them back, she’d stick to her plan and find someone to corroborate her alibi for the day they were stolen.
    None of this would’ve happened if she hadn’t recognized a stolen painting hidden in Mason’s warehouse. The priceless work of art had been plastered all over the news for the better part a week. Shocked by the discovery, her first thought had been that she had a chance to prove she was an employee worthy of trust. She’d innocently brought the painting to the attention of her sainted employer and put her life in jeopardy.
    Now all she wanted from the FBI was freedom and a slot in the WITSEC program where Mason couldn’t get to her.
    Why not? She had no family and no life at this point.
    A soft package three-foot square, a foot