Page 58 of Mile High Heist

“No. They’re dying because the Vipers are fucking sadistic pricks. They kill for fun. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

I nodded, my eyes downcast. As much as I wanted to turn off that little voice in my head, I couldn’t. There was a reason the Vipers wanted me.

“Olivia…” Ryle’s voice had a strange note in it. I looked up at him.

His face had turned to stone.

“What’s wrong?” I asked him, looking at the handcuffs. Were they too tight?

“Big guy. By the doorway.”

Slowly, I turned and faced the cabin doorway.

Big guy didn’t cut it. The man was a literal giant. Tall, broad-shouldered, even bigger than the air marshal. He was wearing a crimson suit, perfectly tailored to his enormous frame. My eyes drilled immediately on the mean scar that slashed over his right eye and down his cheek.

At my attention, the man moved purposefully into the cabin, making a beeline for us.

“Shit,” I said, panicking.

Ryle tugged on his handcuffs. “Shit,” he echoed.

Fear clogged up my windpipe. I looked around helplessly. The commotion at the bar had drawn a curious crowd, meaning first class was practically empty. One woman was sleeping, headphones in and eye mask in place. An unbothered queen.

Ryle thrashed against his restraints.

The large man stopped, leaving just a few feet between us. “Come with me,” he said, his accent thick. “Or he dies.”

Ryle bared his teeth. “Try it, fucker.”

I looked at Ryle, then back at the man. I had no idea how they were killing people, but it had to be discreet. Something quick and unseen.

“Olivia,” Ryle said, nearly ripping his arm out of his socket. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

I couldn’t let him kill Ryle.

I didn’t want anyone else to die for me.

“Okay,” I said, my shoulders dipping in defeat. “I’ll go with you.”

The man smiled. It was not a nice smile.

Ryle was roaring, but I barely heard it over the rush of panic in my head. The man stepped toward me and offered his hand like a gentleman. Sucking in a deep breath, I reached out to take it.

In the same motion, I drove the taser into his chest with my other hand.

I had no idea if Ryle left the safety on. I prayed and prayed as I jammed the button. There was a sharp crack, and then the man collapsed, his legs spasming. His face turned a deep, violent purple.

Ryle whooped. “Fuck yeah! You fucker! You underestimated the pretty girl—oh shit.”

The man was already sitting up like some resurrected Frankenstein monster. Clearly, he was no stranger to pain. The look on his face was familiar. It was the same one Peter Vincilli had right when he’d decided to kill me.

I’d poked the bear.

He rose to his feet in one fluid motion and stalked toward me. I held out the taser like a gun, but I was shaking too hard. My fingers were slippery and unreliable.

The man stopped two feet away. He considered me for a moment, then smiled coldly. “I will give you three seconds,” he said. “Then I will kill him.”

Tears burned my eyes. A taser wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to stop him.