by S Williams
“Did you tell security to go home? The guards?” I ask.
“Yes. Paid them off so they wouldn’t ask any questions or report to Big Jack. No one’s watching.”
I hustle beside him, trying to keep up my pace while also keeping an eye on Travis, who is on the other side of Clark. We finally reach the jet, and Clark grabs a handle, drawing down the stairs that lead up to it.
He heads up the stairs, turning on several lights, and then popping his head back out, gesturing with two fingers for us to come inside.
“You, to the cockpit,” he says, pointing at Travis. “How long to get this thing warmed up and ready to fly?”
“Um, give or take, twenty to thirty minutes,” he answers.
“What?” I drop my bag on the seat. “We can’t wait that long. We need to go now. Anyone could come out here!” I throw my hands in my hair, pushing it all behind me.
“Just chill, Gia. No one is around. Trust me.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” I grumble, snatching up my bag and slouching in one of the chairs. Travis enters the pit, and Clark sighs, following behind him, watching his every move.
The smell of leather and spice surrounds me, my leg bouncing as I hear Travis complaining about something and then pulling a few knobs and twisting some levers.
Twenty minutes pass, and the engine starts, but they’re still up there, trying to figure something out.
I pick up my gun and look out of the window, my heart catching speed again. The strip is empty. Vacant. We’re the only ones here. I have to keep that in mind.
With a deep breath, I stand, going for the mini-fridge bolted to the wall. I take out a water bottle and crack it open, guzzling most of it down.
I sit back in my seat when their voices become calmer. My pulse settles, and I loosen my finger from the trigger.
Just as I start to relax, headlights flash on my face through the plane window, and a black truck with flashing blue and white lights appears, parking a short distance away from the plane.
I know that SUV.
I saw it earlier.
My heart drops at the mere presence of it.
A man in a black suit steps out, his hair parted just at the temple, gelled and combed in style. He adjusts the collar of his jacket, but I hop out of my chair, clutching the gun.
“Clark—who the fuck is that?” I hiss, shoulders hiking up, tense now. Every muscle in my body grows tight, my breaths thicker, becoming harder to pass through.
Clark spins around with his eyebrows drawn together, drawing the cover of one of the windows up and peering out. “Shit.”
“I thought no one knew we were here! Is that a cop?”
I look back out the window, and the cop digs into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a gold badge and holding it in the air.
“DEA! I need everyone on the jet to step off right now!” he commands.
My pulse becomes sluggish. I can hear it whooshing in my ears. My finger tightens around the trigger, eyes as wide as saucers.
“Gia, be calm,” Clark murmurs. “We don’t have any drugs. Just guns. And I have permits for mine. We can easily hide yours.”
I don’t speak.
I can’t.
All words are lodged in my throat.
A fucking DEA agent is standing outside the jet. He could arrest us all and throw us in jail for the hell of it.
“I’m not here about the drugs, or the money, or any of that shit you try to do under the radar!” he yells, taking a small a step forward. “I’m here for Gianna Nicotera.”
When he says my name, my sluggishly beating heart slithers to the pit of my stomach.
Clark looks over at me with a slight grimace. “How the fuck does he know you’re here?”
I pull my lips in, taking a step to the side. I don’t know. I have no clue how he knows. He shouldn’t know…Draco was smart. He did it quietly. There’s no way in hell…
“How long until we can take off, Travis?” Clark demands.
“Almost ready. Just—just two more minutes at least. Everyone has to buckle in.”
I ignore them, staring harder out the window.
“She knows where you are, Gianna,” the agent yells, pacing in front of the jet. “You can’t run. She’ll find you, wherever you go. Just turn yourself in and end this. Give her what she wants.”
My heartbeat is all I can hear now.
A slow, deliberate thump.
Thu-thunk.
Thu-thunk.
Thu-thunk.
I can’t breathe…
I can’t…I can’t talk. One moment I’m gasping for breath, listening to Clark shout my name, and the next, I’m seeing red. So much fucking red. I feel my teeth smash together, my gun tighter in hand.
I don’t give much thought to what I do next.
My feet move faster than my brain can function.
Even though I hear Clark shouting at me, probably telling me not to go out, I don’t listen.
Before I know it, I’m standing in the cold, hustling halfway down the staircase with my pistol aimed high and a bullet flying directly at the agent.
23
GIANNA
He hits the ground with a loud groan, and I rush for him.
Another agent hops out the car and I shoot him too, before he can draw his gun on me.
When I meet up to the first agent, who I shot in the arm, I pounce on top of him, gripping his throat. “Why are you here?” I shout.
“You know why I’m here,” he says with a small laugh.
I press the barrel of my gun to his forehead, teeth bared. “I swear to God, I will kill you right now. Who sent you?” I ask the question, but I already know who. I know exactly who sent him.
He continues his stupid, devious smile. “She was right. You are fierce. Shooting a DEA agent. That’s life right there, slut.”
“Why are you working for her? What the fuck does she want!” I press harder, gripping his throat tighter. He struggles with his words now, trying hard to squeeze them out behind my hand.
“She…wants…you…found…” He runs his tongue over his lips as footsteps pound into the asphalt behind me, and the engine of the jet grows louder. “And dead.”
My vicious scowl fades, my features collapsing. I stare into his eyes, and just as he starts up a crackly chuckle, as if he’s gotten under my skin, my gun goes off, and his blood is leaking from his skull and onto the ground.
“Fuck, Gia!” Clark grabs my arm, yanking me off of the agent. “Your fucking DNA is going to be all over him!”
I glare up at him. “I don’t give a shit! He worked for her! He was on her fucking payroll! If I hadn’t killed him, he would have killed me!”
“Shit. Well, we can’t just leave those bodies out here.”
“I know we can’t, that’s why they’re coming on the jet with us.”
Clark’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Their blood is going to be all over my dad’s jet—on the private air strip only he and a few other businessmen use. They’ll come for him eventually, when they see these agents missing.”
“Send someone to ditch the car, Clark. We’ll take the bodies over the border and ditch them, too. We’ll burn the jet. He can always get a new one. My dad always told me material things are easily replaceable.” I turn around and grab the agent’s wrists. “Help me carry him.”
Clark stares down at me in utter disbelief, but he doesn’t speak on it anymore. Instead he bends down, grabbing the agent’s ankles and walking backwards with his body.
We bring it onto the jet, dropping it into one of the empty seats. We do the same with the other agent, who is a little heavier, but we make do, strapping their bodies into the seats.
The second agent’s breath snags.
“This one is still alive,” I murmur.
Clark dashes off the plane and hops into the SUV. He drives toward a tree a few yards away and parks. He returns with a burner phone and sends someone a text, and then he looks up at me. �
�Someone will come for the truck.”
I nod, sitting on the opposite side of the breathing agent.
“Are we ready to take off, Travis?” I call.
“Yes. All clear.”
Good.
Clark straps in, and I do the same, but I don’t take my eyes off those guards, especially the dead one. His blood still leaks, dripping onto his jacket and the leather seat.
I finally pull my eyes away when the wheels of the jet leave the runway and we ascend, the turbulence rocking me about.
My finger doesn’t let up around my trigger. My heart is still banging like a drum. I don’t know what the hell I’ve just done, but if anyone important finds out, I’m sure I will become a wanted woman after this.
“People will investigate,” Clark warns.
“Then let them investigate. If your people are good, they shouldn’t find a trace of that truck.” I look at the one who’s unconscious. “They’re dirty agents, Clark. You really think they filled people in on their whereabouts?”
Clark runs a rough hand over his face. “Big Jack loves this fucking jet, Gia. I hope your master Jefe makes it right by buying him a new one.”
I roll my eyes, looking out of the window, where the mountaintops and clouds are not too far below. “He will. We just have to get to him first.”
24
GIANNA
Travis informed us that it would be a six-hour flight.
After making a subtle pit stop on a private strip on land owned by a man Big Jack pays off, we are on our way to Mexico City.
“Do you even know where to go to find him?” Clark asks, pacing back and forth now. He’s nervous. He’s been pacing ever since we were given the opportunity to walk.
“He has a home in Los Cabos,” I answer. “I was there for a few days. If we can get to Cabos, I’m hopeful he’ll have someone around, and we can get them to take us to him.”
He stops walking, looking me hard in the eyes. “They’re gonna shoot us on sight if they see us. You don’t just pull up to someone’s private home—a kingpin’s home at that—and expect to not get shot at.”
I sigh, looking at the barely breathing agent. His face is paler now, his hand pressing into the wound just below his chest. I push out of my seat, taking the one across from him and crossing my legs. His hooded eyes sluggishly drag up to meet mine.
I study him carefully; his breaths are heavy, labored. Sweat sprinkles his chalky white forehead and the side of his face. He’s literally fighting for his life right now, clinging to every breath.
“It’s better if you let go and let yourself die, rather than letting one of us take care of it.” I watch the crimson leak through his already bloodstained fingers. “That’s what will happen in the end, anyway. Either way, you’ll have to go.” I sit forward, and he flinches, nostrils flaring. I blink rapidly. “Are you afraid?” I ask.
“Are you taking me to The Jefe?” His voice is gruff and dry.
My head goes into a slight tilt. “Why would I do that?” He doesn’t answer me, turning his head to look out of the window, so I place my gun down on top of the dead guard’s lap beside me, looking him hard in the eyes. “I don’t need The Jefe to fight my battles. You two came for me, thinking I would just give in and go to her.” I cluck my tongue against my teeth. “You were wrong. If there’s one thing he taught me, it was to fight for myself. End all threats. I couldn’t let you stop me, and I damn sure wasn’t going to let Yessica prevent me from doing what I need to do.”
He breathes harder. “I have a family,” he grunts. “I—I was just doing this for the money. I want to get back to them. I—if you let me go, I will never come for you again. You will never see my face, and I’ll even say Matt, here, went off the grid and disappeared on me. I’ll be a ghost to you.”
My head lifts, air filling my lungs.
I look over my shoulder at Clark, who has his arms folded, his brows strewn together, and his lips pinched tight.
“Have you ever met Yessica?” I ask.
“Only once, and it was to give us our pay to find you.”
I huff a laugh. “Where did you meet her and when?”
“A motel close to the border,” he answers hurriedly, head bobbing. “I—it was called La Grandioso. About a week ago, she reached out to us—that’s it.”
Silence reigns, and I push out of my seat.
“Wait—please,” the agent begs, sitting forward and then moaning in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. “I swear, I was only doing this for my family. Please. You two are family. You can understand, right?”
Clark scoffs. “Desperate move, asshole.”
“If we keep him alive and hold him hostage, he might be able to get us to her,” I murmur. “She won’t question an agent on her payroll if he says he has a lead on me. We can use that against her.”
“What?” Clark’s frown deepens and he drops his arms. “Are you kidding? He’s just saying this shit to get out alive. He has to fucking die, Gianna. Look at him—you can’t trust a piece of shit like him. Like you said, he’s a dirty agent. He’ll say anything to get out clean.”
I glance over my shoulder at the agent, whose eyes are wet and desperate, and then I see something familiar—something that should have been a clear sign to me from the very beginning.
This has happened to me before.
This is exactly why I was sent away.
For being lenient. For trusting. For thinking there are actually selfless people in this world who want to do right.
Images of the bombs going off on Jefe’s cars and killing his men, the guns sparking, and the blood splattering on me, resurface.
Thiago, shot. Gone. Dead. Just like that. All because of a man like this…
A tunnel vision of what I thought was true and real hits me so hard my gut clenches, and my mouth fills with moisture.
I lift my gun, aiming it at his head. “Where’s your wallet?” I demand, and his eyes stretch wide, full of horror now.
“M-my back pocket,” he answers, voice panicked.
“Get up.” I grab his shirt, yanking him up, not giving a damn how much pain he’s in. Clark steps up to my side, assisting me. I dig into his back pocket, retrieving the hard, square wallet.
With my gun still pointed at him, I place the wallet on top of the seat in front of me and open it with my free hand. I sift through it, finding IDs, hotel key cards, and cash. I see everything that belongs in an official DEA agent’s wallet—all but one thing.
Family portraits.
Every family man has at least one picture in his wallet.
“If you love your family so much, why aren’t there any pictures of them in here?” I ask, frowning now.
“I—I have some! They’re in the truck—back in Colorado!”
“He’s lying,” Clark grumbles.
“Please—I’m not! I—I have family!”
My lips smash together. “I am so sick of men like you lying to me!” I grip the collar of his shirt, yanking him close, causing a hard, anguished cry to escape him. “Why shouldn’t I kill you?” I press the gun to his cheek.
“Because I can help you,” he says. “I can get Hernandez to you. I can help.”
I shove him away.
“She has many places that we meet—she’s waiting to hear back from us. I can set it all up—I can get her to you and end all of this and never look back. If you let me go, I will—” Before he can finish his sentence, Clark is stepping past me, bringing the butt of his gun down and slamming it across the agent’s head.
The agent passes out from the blow, and I whip my head up to stare at Clark, who grumbles “What? He was talking too fucking much, and I need to think.” Bringing a hand to his hip, he walks past me again, slouching down in an empty seat. “Well, now that we know he’s in deeper than he said, you may have been right about one thing. We can use him to lure her out when you’re ready. Get him to call and say he found you when we land.”
I pull my eyes from the agent. “So we have t
o keep him alive for now?”
“If he even makes it there alive.”
I sigh, taking the seat beside him.
“Bet you didn’t think shit would get this bad, huh?” he chuckles, leg bouncing. “Fuck, I need a smoke.”
“How much longer?” I ask.
“An hour, give or take.” I sigh, and Clark shifts in his seat, fingers tapping on the arm of his chair. “You know what your problem is?” he asks, giving me a hard, thorough sweep with his eyes. “Your problem is you trust too easily. You’re just like Jen. She believes anything she hears, which makes her vulnerable and weak at times. She’s too damn gullible. Now I get why he sent you back. You were a danger to his business. You can’t believe everything you hear, Gia. You can’t trust every man you meet, no matter how honest they seem. That motherfucker right there is a prime example of a wolf in sheep clothing.”
I meet his eyes briefly before dropping mine to my lap. “I don’t want to be a danger to him anymore. If I don’t prove my worth to him by taking Yessica down, he’ll never forgive me, and sending me away again would be the nicest thing he would do. That, or he’ll disappear and make sure I can never find him.”
He releases a hard breath through his nostrils. “I just don’t get it. Being with The Jefe comes with a heavy price. You’ll be risking your life, for the rest of your life. You’ll always be on the run. You’ll never be safe, and you’ll probably die before your fifties. Is that really how you want to live? What you want your future to be?”
I study his face, how serious he is. I never thought of it that way. I wanted to be with him so badly that I didn’t even think of the consequences. How can I raise a baby in that environment? How can I raise a child, knowing he or she will never have a stable and happy home? How can I raise a child with the most ruthless man I have ever known?
“Let me tell you something,” Clark goes on, voice low but firm, leaning over the armrest and toward me. “You really want to be a boss, show the world what you’re capable of, then show them what you really are. Show the world that Gianna Nicotera should never be fucked with, and when they all know it, own that shit and never lose sight of it. Having power and respect always comes with a price. There will always be someone around, wanting to take you down, wanting to be you, and you have to be ready to end them before they can even finish speaking your name. Stay on your toes, keep your eyes open, watch your fucking back, and stay loaded. Don’t trust this world. This world will fuck you over in a million ways with no apologies. Always be ready, Gia. Always make your statement. Never take shit from anyone. Instead, handle that shit and shut—it—the—fuck—down. Be the Patrona he needs you to be. The fearless woman your father always knew you would become. We both know that shit is in you. You just need to claim it.”
