Page 150 of Pink

TWENTY-NINE

HAVING FRIENDS in high places paid off sometimes. Lev was never more grateful for the reach of his boss than when they had a location for Gigi and Jensen, and all he had to do was make a call to Andino. In a day, the man had a team ready to provide whatever his man and the two assassins needed. A chopper. Even a fucking boat once they had satellite pictures showing the Mexican estate was situated deep within a bay surrounded by rocky cliffs.

But still accessible.

In three ways.

One, the water.

Two, the sky.

Three, a road. The road, however, was the last resort that hadn’t even been on the table when Corrado, Alessio, and Lev made their plan. It was the most obvious route to get into the estate, and undoubtedly armed to the fucking teeth.

“Ten seconds to landing,” a voice chirped in his ear.

The chopper pilot.

Next to him, leaning out of the open door of the chopper to peer at the roof of the mansion below where they would soon land, Alessio hissed air through his teeth in disapproval. “Fuck, knew this was gonna be bad. Counted ten guards already that I can see, man. Should have got a bigger team for this.”

“Not optional,” Lev muttered.

“Right,” the guy replied, stepping back away from the door as the chopper made a quick descent. “Because Andino’s trying to keep this all under control. Fucking Marcellos.”

That had Lev shooting the man a heated glance. “One of those fucking Marcellos is the only reason I might get Gigi out of here alive. So how about you deal with your feelings another time, huh?”

If she even still was alive …

God.

The agony ripped through his chest without mercy, and Lev was the bitch’s willing victim. He felt it was an appropriate punishment for his thoughts that felt like a betrayal to the hope he had refused to let go of over the past days.

Lev didn’t really have time to consider his pity party because in the next second, the chopper hit the roof in a rough landing that sent both men in the rear stumbling with the guns in their hands. Not for long, though, because they didn’t have the time to fuck up, either.

They weren’t even out of the chopper before shots fired. Bullets peppered the side of the helicopter, making the pilot cuss loudly in the comms, nearly blocking out the sound of Corrado in the background telling them, “In the bay, boys.”

Alessio was out of the chopper first; Lev followed right behind. Coming around the back as the machine started to lift into the air again—the pilot was unwilling to stay on the roof longer than it took to get the men out of the back—both men had their semi-auto rifles high and aimed in the direction of the spray of bullets.

If Lev was a hell of a shot, Alessio Sorrento was a fucking king. Alessio came around the rear of the rising chopper, eye to the sights of his gun, and he didn’t even hesitate before his finger pulled back the trigger in quick succession.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

Each bullet hit its intended target—the three men coming up onto the roof of the estate where it looked like a mix between a garden and sitting area. The wind from the chopper’s blades had cut down vines and a bush, and sent a wicker table set spinning across the roof. The pilot would continue to circle the estate and bay, only coming back once Lev and Alessio were on the roof.

Or if he saw smoke.

Whichever came first.

Lev might have his feelings about Alessio, sure. There was tension between the man and his lover regarding Lev’s boss, but his pride wasn’t that big of a thing that he couldn’t admit certain things. Like this wouldn’t have been possible without them.

At all.

Maybe after this—if everything went well—then they might finally be able to bury the hatchet between the four of them. But who the hell knew?

And now wasn’t the time.