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We land, buffeting the uniforms of the two men who’ve come to meet us. I don’t know if they’re here to escort us to Charlie or if they’re going to pick us off one by one as we get out of the helicopter.
“This is bullet-proof, Boss,” Caruso says as we all take off our headphones. “We can sit here a minute and think.”
“No.” I say instantly. I don’t need to fucking think. I already know what to do. “Anyone in this fucking place is complicit in the abduction of my wife. No one,” I say savagely, meeting the gaze of every man in this helicopter, one after the other, “will be left alive.”
“There may be an easier way than just blasting our way in and hoping we don’t get our heads blown off in the process,” Caruso says. He gestures at the two guards waiting. “Those men are locals Charlie’s hired. They’re not loyal to him. They’re loyal to the almighty dollar. Pay them off and they’ll get us in. And if they say no, well…” He shrugs. “Then we kill them.”
“It’s a good idea,” Enzo says.
“You shut the fuck up,” I tell him, my head feeling like it’s gonna burst. “If you hadn’t shit the bed back at the hotel this wouldn’t have happened. I’m still not even convinced you’re going to be alive at the end of the day.”
Enzo lapses into silence. Curse and Robbie are both too fucking smart, I guess, to offer any more helpful suggestions right now.
But maybe Caruso and Enzo are right. Having two men who know the lay of the land lead us right to their boss, right to Deirdre, will be more efficient than just trying to shoot our way inside. And I can’t sacrifice time for violence if I can avoid it. My number one priority is getting to her, not taking out my rage on the people in between.
“This thing got a speaker system?” I grunt at Caruso. He nods, grabbing a walkie-talkie-looking thing and handing it to me before flipping a couple of switches. When I speak, it echoes outside the helicopter and the guards straighten up.
“There are five of us in here and we’re well-armed,” I say, watching the guards through the window as I address them. “You might get in a shot or two, but you’re outgunned and you’re both about to die.”
The two guards look at each other uneasily.
“But I need access to the building and I am willing to pay. Whatever your annual fee is, triple it. Get us in there with no funny shit, and not only will I let you live but I’ll make sure you’re fucking paid. Show me you understand and that you agree by laying your weapons on the ground.”
The guards are tense and uncertain. They speak quietly to each other, but I can tell that Caruso’s right. These guys want to go home to their kids tonight. They’re not here to get blown up protecting their foreign boss.
Slowly, they both lay their guns on the ground and straighten up with their hands in the air.
“Time to go,” I snap.
We pour out of the helicopter. Caruso is still light-footed as fuck. Even though he’s the oldest among us by at least fifteen years, he’s fucking flying across the tarmac. He picks up one of the discarded guns and Curse is right behind him to grab the other.
“Anything else on you?” Enzo asks, immediately beginning to pat down one guard, then the other.
“No, Sir,” says the guard on the left. The other one nods in agreement.
“Good. We’re keeping these,” I tell them, hooking my thumb towards the weapons we’ve confiscated. I can tell that they don’t really like that, but I don’t give a shit. They’ll get paid if they do what I need them to. I don’t need them able to shoot me in the back when I’m not paying attention.
“Your boss took something of mine,” I say to them. “And I need to get her back.”
“The redhead?” says the one on the left. “Saw her coming in off a boat earlier…”
“Not just some redhead,” I seethe, ready to punch this guy’s nose into the back of his skull. “My fucking wife.”
The guards share an oh, shit kind of look. They must not know who I am. Because if they did they’d be shitting their fucking pants by now, too.
“How many more armed guards are here?” Curse asks.
“The boss has two personal bodyguards. They’re the ones who brought the… your wife. Other than that, there are four more armed men patrolling right now.”
I rub my forehead viciously. Those aren’t bad odds, all things considered.
“Who else is on the property? Any guests with guns?” I ask.
“Not right now. There are a few cooks and maids on site. Otherwise it’s just the boss, his partner Mr. O’Malley, and Miss Bridget. Plus your wife,” the guard adds hastily.
Fucking O’Malley. What does he fucking think he’s trying to pull, stealing Deirdre back from me after I already paid for her? After I fucking married her?
I should have shot him when I saw him run across the moonlit snow that night. I should have fucking buried him when he abandoned her.
