Author's Note: So, Shadows-of-Realm called me on the phone on a plane bit of yesterday's chapter. I freely admit that I have flown once in my adult life, and it was a short hop rather than a cross-country flight. And, on that flight, I recall someone using a cell phone. So I apologize for that bit but hope you can suspend belief for just a little while. :) Enjoy today's chapter, and there's only one more after this! ~lg

~oOo~

The hour-long layover in Chicago worried Erin. The pilot had announced it thirty minutes ago, and she hadn't thought much about it until Nathan called. Quite frankly, she'd intended to stay on the plane, in a controlled environment. But, now, with someone possibly after them. . . . Did she stay on the plane? Or did she and Janice go get some food and hopefully draw out whatever assassin had been sent their way?

Another thought occurred to her, and she froze as she buckled her seat belt. What if they got to Elizabeth? Manchester hadn't just been trafficking drugs or laundering money, as severe as those crimes were. He'd been funding international terrorism, providing them with weapons, supplies, and cash to keep their operations running. Men had killed for far less.

By the time the plane had touched down, she had a tension headache, and her back hurt again. She wished for a hot shower to soothe it but knew she'd have to wait a few more hours. Just a little while longer, and she could become an official US Marshal again.

But did she want that? Her personal questions invaded her mind yet again, and she pushed them away. She couldn't afford to be distracted like this, not with everything on the line. And that's what it was. Without Nathan, she probably wouldn't be the same woman. She'd bury herself so far into her work that it would take a stroke from stress or a bad guy's bullet to get her out. And then where would she be?

That particular little truth scared her. She pushed it away and closed her eyes as the flight attendant announced they could exit the plane. Getting distracted now would mean getting killed if this guy had followed them. And, as a trained law enforcement officer, she assumed he had followed her.

"Hey, you okay?" Janice had finally picked up on her tension.

"No." Erin pushed to her feet and led the other woman off the plane. What were they to do? They couldn't just remain where they were, not with their stomachs growling. Breakfast had been a long time ago, and Erin felt rumpled in spite of the nice, new jeans, tank top, and black jacket she wore. She'd had to show her badge and get official permission to bring her firearm, but that hadn't taken very long. Not by way of comparison.

"What is it?" Janice hissed at her as they left the terminal.

Erin shook her head, indicating that they weren't going to talk there. "Just stay close." She headed straight for the nearest bathroom. Once inside, she checked all the stalls and saw that they were empty. "Okay, here's the deal. That was Nathan that called."

"I kinda figured that."

Erin rolled her eyes at Janice's sarcasm. "He thinks we were followed. He doesn't know, yet, how the safe house was compromised, and neither do I. But the safest course of action is to assume that we've been followed."

"Onto the plane?" Janice's voice rose an octave. "But, I thought. . . ."

"So did I." Erin glanced up when another woman came into the bathroom. Lowering her voice, she whispered, "They must have put some kind of GPS we couldn't detect onto the SUV. That's the only way. Then it was just a matter of following us through the terminal."

"But getting on the plane?"

Erin shrugged and showed the edge of her badge. "Air marshal. They do it all the time."

Janice's eyes widened at that. She tried to recover for the other woman but didn't quite succeed. Their unwanted listener left the bathroom, glancing at them with very concerned eyes.

Erin grabbed Janice's shoulders. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna leave this bathroom, act like nothing is wrong, and get something to eat."

"What do you mean act like nothing's wrong?" Janice's voice still hadn't lowered in pitch. "Everything's wrong. Someone out there—someone we don't know—could be trying to kill us."

"Yes, and the best way to draw attention to ourselves is to act like we're scared." Erin gave her a gentle shake. "You can do this!"

"No, I can't!"

"Yes. You. Can." Erin waited, knowing that Janice's survival instinct would kick in sooner or later.

She watched it happen. Janice drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, repeated the process, and nodded. "Let's do this."

"Good." Erin headed for the door and walked out. The tile next to her head splintered.

~oOo~

The warehouse complex where Tate had holed up seemed way too large for the three operatives and two techs in the van. Nathan eyed Chance, knowing that he didn't have a choice, and not liking it. They had planned a surgical strike as a way to get in, get Tate, and get out. Of course, that assumed they didn't get killed.

How was Erin doing? Nathan wasn't normally so distracted on a mission, but this one had higher stakes than anything he'd ever done. After all, he loved Erin. If he lost her, he might as well return to England to stand trial and suffer whatever punishment they gave him.

Pulling his mind away from her violet eyes and blond hair, Nathan finished tightening the Kevlar vest around his waist and double-checked his sidearm. He had plenty of ammunition, a nice benefit of having Guerrero working with him this time. On the trip from New Mexico back to Dallas, Guerrero had traced Manchester's movements and money. Erin and Janice had proof of the funds he'd sent overseas. Guerrero had proof of his payments to Tate's mercenary company. And that proof led to a very interesting list of staff working for Tate.

Including Satters. Nathan's eyes narrowed as he tasted his dislike of that woman. He'd known she was getting off too lightly when she was arrested for breaking and entering. Of course, she had only served two days of her time, but that didn't matter. She obviously found better employment than working at Rockwood.

Thinking of the engineering firm, Nathan shook his head. Of course, Rockwood would be dismantled. He'd be out of a job. If things went well, he may be out of a lot more than a job, but that didn't matter. Right now, surviving this and finding Erin mattered.

When they made it out of this, he was going to sit her down and make her listen while he poured out everything that he'd ever done. It was the only way he could think of to get through to her. He understood why she said everything she said. She was angry and hurt. He'd betrayed her from the moment they met. But he'd been honest. When they met, he'd had no intention of ever falling in love with her.

Chance's voice in his ear, telling him to move in, yanked his attention back to the present. Nathan moved forward and managed to slip into the complex through the barbed wire fence that had yet to be repaired. He shook his head. For a guy who did as high-risk stuff as Tate, he sure took his time on grounds maintenance.

Gunfire erupted from the other side of the complex, and Guerrero swore over their communication channel. Nathan froze and then grinned when Guerrero said, "Big mistake, dude."

More shots reached his ears, and he glanced around. The ground at his feet kicked up dust, and he ducked behind a couple of crates stacked against the wall. A quick glance told him where his attackers were, and he popped up long enough to put a bullet in each of their heads. As they fell, he ducked back down and mentally counted his bullets. He had plenty of clips on his belt, but he decided to make every bullet matter. If he didn't, someone could be left alive to come after him, Erin, Janice, or any of the others. He didn't doubt that Chance could cover his own tail, but he wanted to ensure that Janice and Erin were free from all of this when it ended.

Chance, who had worked his way over to him, rolled behind the crates. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Oh, you know. . . ." Nathan had listened to the other man's team long enough to pick up their light banter.

Chance nodded. "I understand." He picked off two of their guys. "Listen, I saw someone heading for cover in the main building."

"And. . .?" Nathan wondered what this was about.

"It's Manchester."

Nathan's head turned so fast his neck popped. "Manchester?"

"Yeah." Chance took out another attacker as if it was a normal activity.

"He's here?"

Chance nodded again, and Nathan grinned. This ends. Now.

~oOo~

Erin drew back as civilians screamed and scattered. The gunshot echoed, and she cursed the guy for making such a stupid mistake. As a US Marshal, she could—and would—open fire on him. As would airport security. The news would be down here within a few minutes, trying to get reporters and cameras in to cover the incident. And people would get killed. It was exactly the kind of high-profile attention Manchester and his people did not want.

She shoved Janice down and hustled her back into the bathroom. A few panicked women tried to dive behind her, and she allowed them. A little boy cried for his mother in the middle of the room, and Erin's eyes narrowed. There was no way on God's green earth that she was going to let him get killed because his mother panicked and forgot about him. That mother would likely feel horrible in the end and spend the rest of her life making up for it. But Erin determined that the boy would live to be spoiled.

First things first. She rushed Janice into the furthest stall, adding an extra layer of frightened women. "Stay there! Don't get out!" she told them.

Back at the door, she peeked out into the chaotic scene. Travellers still ran, the boy still screamed, and airport security rushed into the area. One of them caught sight of her and her sidearm and aimed. She snagged her badge from the back pocket of her jeans and held it up, satisfying the guy. Their attacker, somewhere to her left, decided that he wanted airport security out of his way. It gave Erin enough time to dive for the boy. The tile under her feet exploded with bullets, but she managed to cover the boy with her body before any real damage was done. He turned in her arms and nearly strangled her as she ran back to the bathroom. His screams downgraded to cries as he sensed he was safe.

In the back stall, Erin stared into the frightened eyes of one of the women. "Take him. I'm needed out there."

The boy didn't want to let go, but he soon latched on to his next protector. That woman stared. "You're bleeding."

Erin touched her face, where the bruises from her recent foot chase combined with cuts from the shattered glass last night and the chipped ceramic tile today. "I shoulda known." She left the women and headed back to the door.

There. The gunman's attempt to take out one of the airport security personnel gave up his position. He'd been tucked behind a wall about ten feet to the left and across the wide concourse from Erin's vantage point. She took aim and fired, satisfied when the wall beside him exploded.

He ran. Erin took off after him, dodging bullets as she did so. "Great, just what I need! Another foot chase!"

Trusting Janice to stay put, she slowed when she realized she'd lost the guy. A member of airport security, the guy who originally thought she was the shooter, tapped her shoulder. Erin nodded at him and pointed around the corner. He ducked around her and promptly took a bullet to the chest. Shouts of "Shots fired!" and "Man down!" echoed, but Erin tuned out every bit of it. She needed to focus, to take down this guy before he escaped. Rounding the corner, she saw him running down a service corridor behind the restaurant he'd chosen as his new hiding spot.

"US Marshal!" Her shout echoed, and she gave chase. Again. Erin barely kept up but saw the way he'd carefully dressed to blend into the crowd. But he'd somehow smuggled a weapon on board a plane. It was the only way he'd arrived in Chicago in time to catch them.

No matter what happened, this thing would end today.

~oOo~

"Look out!" Nathan dove for Chance as the crates they'd used as cover exploded.

"What was that?" Chance asked as Nathan's ears cleared.

"I don't know. It looked like. . . .a ray gun?" Winston's voice in their ear nearly brought a smile to his face. Shock and awe were wonderful things.

"It's the bloody PGV! She must have built a new one!"

"PG-what?" Winston asked.

"Plasma gun!" Another blast cut off the rest of Nathan's response. He glanced at Chance. "We can't stay here. She'll see us, and then we're really dead."

"Who will see us?"

"Satters."

"Who?"

"You don't want to know!"

Chance followed Nathan as he dodged around corners, most of the bad guys headed their way either dead or bleeding on the pavement. By rounding the other end of the warehouse, they should be able to get a bead on Satters's location. And maybe Manchester's. Nathan had known that the PGV-3 was Manchester's baby, but he hadn't thought the man would be stupid enough to build Version Four when Version Three ended so badly.

At the opposite end of the warehouse, Chance peeked around the corner. "I've got him."

"Who?"

"Manchester."

Nathan blinked. Manchester was wielding the PGV-4? He had finally decided to dirty his lily-white hands? "Have you got a line on him?"

"Yeah, and on the girl with him."

Nathan looked around the corner, seeing Satters in front of the main warehouse, standing somewhat behind Manchester and awkwardly holding a normal nine mil. His eyes narrowed. One bullet would be all it took.

"Don't." Chance's calm voice stopped Nathan in his tracks. He wasn't that man anymore, and he suddenly understood what Chance knew. Life was about choices, and the choice not to kill was a big one.

Instead of killing Manchester, he took aim and winged the guy. The PGV-4 went flying, but Satters dove to pick it up. As she did, a bullet from Guerrero ended her life.

Nathan swallowed the bitter taste of victory that welled in the back of his throat and rushed forward. Chance followed him. With Manchester down, they could finally get the answers they needed. Tate would be inside, and he'd likely be heavily guarded as a last ditch effort to defend himself. At the door of the main warehouse, Guerrero stood over Manchester, foot pressed into his injured shoulder. "I'd stay down if I were you, dude."

Nathan smirked and walked right past, enjoying the horrified expression on Manchester's face. The smirk faded at the firefight inside, but it wasn't as intense as he'd expected. Apparently Tate had either sent the bulk of his forces outside or to the safe house. Before too much longer, he stood weapon to weapon with Tate, eying the guy.

Guerrero walked into the room. "Manchester spilled everything, dude. You're done."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "What did Manchester spill?"

"The money, the research, the arms dealing. Y'know, pretty much all of it." Guerrero shrugged. "I had to apply a little force, but he'll live to stand trial."

Tate sneered. "He won't get that far. And your witness will never testify."

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Who said anything about a trial?"

Tate's sneer stayed in place. "You won't kill me. You've gone soft in your time in America, Mr. Nathan."

Guerrero, ignoring Chance's attempts to stop him, walked forward and disarmed Tate inside of two seconds. He restrained the guy so that they were nose-to-nose. "Let me tell you something, dude. That man hasn't gone soft. He's grown the thickest skin you can think of. Unlike you." He pulled out a thick cord and tied Tate securely to his desk. "Whaddya say, Chance? Do we blow this joint?"

"No. No. No," Winston said firmly in their headset. "We've got the evidence planted already, and we're NOT blowing up anything. Let the cops do their thing."

"He's right." Chance turned to Nathan.

"I agree." Nathan holstered his sidearm. With the weight of this confrontation lifted from his shoulders, his mind turned to other matters.

Erin. Where was she, and how had things turned out for her?

~oOo~

Erin stared at the body of their attacker, a man she still didn't know. He'd continued running down the corridor until he'd been boxed in by airport security. When he raised his weapon to fire on Erin, airport security took him down. While anticlimactic, Erin couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. It was over.

Janice. She headed back for the bathroom, starting to feel the cuts on her face now that adrenaline had faded. Nathan would give her what-for when she returned, but she didn't care. She simply wanted to deliver Janice to her soon-to-be step-mom and go find Nathan.

In the bathroom, the women still huddled in the back stall. The boy had stopped crying and now sucked his thumb while cuddling into the other woman's shoulder. Erin smiled and ruffled his hair as she looked for Janice. "It's over."

"You're sure?" Janice asked, her question echoed by several other women.

"I'm sure." She held out her hand. "Let's get you to New York."

~TBC