Julian stepped in front of Eve, shielding her with his body. "What are you doing here, Father? Don't you have more important things to do—like hiding from Interpol and the FBI?"

"Always quick with a witty retort, aren't you, Julian?" Alistair tapped his cigar onto the tray next to him. "It's too bad for your precious Dr. Russell that you're way more talk than action."

"Don't speak to him like that, Alistair," Eve cried. "Doesn't it mean anything to you that he's your son?"

Alistair chuckled and snuffed out his cigar. "Aah . . . jumping to Julian's defense, just like the good old days, Eve?"

"Shut up, Alistair!" Eve stepped out from behind Julian. "Why can't you just leave us alone—especially your son and daughter?"

"Yeah, Alistair," Martin growled. "I can't believe you even have the nerve to show your face here. You know the cops are after you."

"The local flatfoots aren't going to arrest me, Martin. You know that as well as I do." Alistair smirked at Luis. "Hell, for all of your son's bluster and bravado, even he knows he can't cuff me right now."

"That's because I'm out of my jurisdiction, Crane." Luis started toward Alistair. "But it sure as hell doesn't mean I can't beat you into submission and take you down to the station."

"I'm warning you, Officer. Don't take another step toward me, or you'll be sorry." Alistair whipped out a gun and pointed it at Luis. "If your father will just come with me, I'll let you all be."

Luis stepped back, his fingers curling. "Over my dead body, Crane."

"That can be arranged," Alistair taunted him, turning his gun on Sheridan. "But tell me, who do you want me to kill first: your wife or your unborn child?" Alistair grabbed Sheridan's wrist and yanked her against him. "It would be unnecessarily cruel to make her mourn the child before she dies herself—don't you think, Luis?"

Alistair lowered his gun from Sheridan's head to her stomach.

Luis's heart stopped. "You touch one hair on her head, Alistair, and I swear I'll kill you."

The color drained from Sheridan's face. "Please, Father, just stop this," she pleaded, trembling against him. "Luis will let you go."

Alistair yanked Sheridan in closer and narrowed his eyes on Luis. "What was that threat you were spouting off, Officer? I don't think you're in much of a bargaining position now, are you?"

"How can you do this to your own daughter, Alistair?" Martin asked, his voice filling with fury. "It's me you want. Let her go, and I'll come with you instead."

"Finally seeing reason, are you, Martin?" Alistair raised one brow. "I knew grabbing your son's wife would somehow get your attention. I have to say, though—I don't know that saving her is worth your own life. All of her constant blubbering about wanting to be loved . . . she's more trouble than she's worth most days."

Sheridan's face fell; she choked back a sob.

Luis leapt forward; Martin and Hank grabbed him and held him back. "What is the matter with you, Crane?" Martin demanded. "She's your daughter for God's sake!"

"Don't listen to him, Sher," Luis breathed, his eyes locking on hers. "You're worth everything."

Martin tightened his grip on Luis's arms and fixed his eyes on Alistair. "I don't know why I'm surprised at how cruel you are to your own daughter considering what you did to her mother."

"You leave my whore of a wife out of this!" Alistair jammed the tip of his gun against Sheridan's chest. "I was going to torture Luis a little while longer, but maybe it will be more fun to play with you instead." Alistair narrowed his eyes on Martin. "Watch me, Fitzgerald. Watch me kill your son's wife—take everything away from him. By the time I'm through with Luis and Sheridan, you'll wish you were dead instead."

"No! Luis has lost enough!" Martin's eyes flew to his son's face, his eyes filling with tears. "Don't take his wife from him."

Luis's entire body trembled; his eyes remained fixed on Sheridan's.

"That's it, Alistair. I surrender!" Martin threw his hands up into the air. "Lower the gun and let her go. I promise—I'll go with you."

"Get your son and his band of would-be saviors to back off, and we'll talk." Alistair nodded at Luis, Hank, and Gwen. "My pathetic excuse for a son and Dr. Russell, too."

Martin glanced back at everyone behind him. "Please, do as he says." Martin's eyes locked on Luis's. "I promise—I won't let you lose her, son."

Luis's face paled.

"Come on, buddy. Just back up." Hank gently led him away. "It won't help anything to piss off old man Alistair any more than we already have."

Sheridan's entire body began to shake as Martin stepped closer to them.

"Slowly . . . slowly . . ." Alistair lowered his gun. "Keep your hands where I can see them."

Martin bowed his head and inched closer, raising his hands above his shoulders.

"Let her go, Alistair," Martin growled. "Let her go, and I'll come peacefully."

"Give me your hand, Martin." Alistair dropped his grip on Sheridan and grabbed Martin's wrist, twisting his arm up behind his back.

Sheridan cried out and flew into Luis's arms.

Luis squeezed her against him and gripped the back of her head. "I love you. I love you. I love you," he whispered, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Come on. Let's go, Martin." Alistair slowly backed them toward the door.

"Not on your life." Martin elbowed Alistair in the ribs and ripped his wrist from Alistair's grip. Whirling around, Martin brought his elbow down on Alistair's shoulder and shoved him toward the floor.

A shot rang out.

Martin fell.

Alistair grabbed hold of the door handle, sprang to his feet, and raced out of the plane.

Luis, Sheridan, and Eve rushed forward and fell to their knees.

"Oh my God, Luis!" Sheridan gasped. "Oh my God . . . your father!"