Page 69 of Mile High Heist

There were only two ways this would end. Either they died, or we did. The way I was feeling, like every band of restraint had snapped inside me, I’d fight until my dying breath.

I was itching for it. Starving for it.

“I am done,” I said, my voice steady, unwavering. “No more games. No more threats. You wanted to see what would happen if you pushed me too far? I’ll show you.”

The leader considered me. Then, his intelligent eyes darted to Madoc, who usually held the monopoly on intimidation. But he only gave him a quick look before his eyes fixed on me.

“I see,” he said, still sounding too confident. “The thieves want to challenge the killers. I fear you are at a disadvantage.”

“I guess we’ll find out.” I flexed my hands again, a signal to Madoc that I was ready to blow. My eyes darted to Olivia, who had risen to her feet unsteadily. “Go,” I told her. “Find cover. Now.”

Thankfully, she knew better than to argue right now.

“So, how shall we play this, Jax?” The leader said, producing a gimlet knife from his sleeve. “Fists? Or weapons…”

Madoc and I exchanged a look. We had no weapons. His pen was still lodged in the carotid artery of a Viper in economy. He nodded.

“Fists.”

“Very well.” The knife disappeared back into his pocket.

It was two versus two. No more hiding. No more tricks.

Madoc was solid beside me, his fingers twitching restlessly against his leg. “I’ll take tiny,” he said, his eyes fixed on the large man who was anything but tiny.

That left the leader to me.

Good.

I had a score to settle. I’d been fantasizing about ripping his head off for the last six hours.

The plane gave a warning shudder, like a third-party observer. The large containers vibrated around us, all twelve tons of them. I just hoped the restraints held.

It wasn’t clear who struck first. I moved at the same time as Madoc. We collided with a violent clash of fists and anger.

It was brutal.

My Viper was a trained fighter—lethal. Despite my size advantage, he managed to get me on my back in seconds, his sharp fists pounding into the side of my face. I saw spots, then a blazing red.

He thought his precise style gave him an advantage. But nobody fought clean on the street. They definitely didn’t fight clean in prison. I didn’t care where I hit. I didn’t care what I broke. I felt a stinging satisfaction when I punched him square in the jaw, causing his head to whip back. Blood splattered from his mouth and a tooth went flying. Then I bucked him off like a bull and he went sprawling across the cargo hold. I regained my footing and shook out my arms. My blood sang.

The Viper rose up, wiping his hand over his mouth, a dangerous look in his eyes. I’d finally stirred the dirty killer beneath the mask.

“You’re too late, Jax,” he sneered, prowling around me. “The girl has been claimed. The moment she steps foot off this plane, it is over for her.”

My fists tightened. Behind him, there was a large thump like a body had collided with a container. Madoc was playing with his prey. The Viper looked over, and I took my shot.

He saw it coming. Of course he did.

Just as I fired another right jab to his face, he crouched and delivered a blow to my gut. I hit the wall with a hard ‘thud’. He moved on me eagerly, too eagerly. As soon as he crossed into my territory, I gripped his shirt and headbutted him in the nose. The cartilage cracked, blood spraying across my face.

My instincts overrode every part of me. Remove the plane, the assassins, and the impossible stakes, and I was in another bar fight, punching out some mouthy asshole. Pain was pain. Received and delivered. I just had to be the last man standing.

An elbow came swinging toward my face when, suddenly, we were airborne. For a second, I thought the whole world had tipped upside down. When we came crashing back down, it was like being thrown out of a moving car. I hit the deck and rolled all the way down the cargo hold, grappling at anything I could.

My head was roaring as I tried to make sense of it.

I looked up, dazed. Everything was sideways.