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I’m unbuckling before the plane comes to a stop. And a wicked grin pulls across my lips when I see I got it perfect, parked right in front of Mikhail’s driveway.
“Want me to get it turned around?” Rocco asks.
The stretch of road ahead of us curves, there’s no way I can take back off aiming this way.
I shake my head. “We’ll leave it. A little gift for Tye to deal with.”
Striding to the exit, we’re both ready.
During the flight, we geared up. Bulletproof vests, mine over my usual all-black with my suit jacket discarded along the way, one Glock on my left hip, one in my hand, and extra magazines in every pocket.
Rocco pulls the lever to lower the steps from the side of the plane, facing away from the target.
And as I climb down, movement blurs the tree line ahead of me, as dozens and dozens of men––dressed head to toe in black, armed to the fucking teeth––walk through the yards, toward me.
This. This is my element.
I wait in the center of the street while my men fill in around me.
“No one touches her.” I project my voice, reaching everyone’s ears. “Everyone else dies.”
All heads nod.
Then another form, a man a little taller than the rest, strolls down the street toward us.
Sixty automatic weapons turn to aim at him.
King ignores the guns pointed at his chest, lifting his chin in my direction.
My men, glance at me, some with brows raised, obviously wondering what the fuck this Wall Street douchebag is doing here.
My nerves settle a little more. “Didn’t expect a personal visit on this one.”
King grins. “Wouldn’t miss it.” Then he hoists a heavy metal tube onto his shoulder. “And you forgot your key.”
Without missing a beat, he turns, aims the surface-to-air launcher at the reinforced gate blocking Mikhail’s driveway, and sets the missile free.
CHAPTER80
Payton
“Uh… Boss!”An alarmed voice catches Mikhail’s attention.
Using all my strength, I push up to a sitting position, just in time to see a pale-faced man run through the open doorway.
“Is he here?” Mikhail asks in an excited voice.
An explosion answers his question.
CHAPTER81
Nero
My men pourthrough the smoke. Filing through the open gate and fanning out to the sides.
I signal to my three best shooters. “Up.”
They nod and rush around the plane, climbing up the stairs, and onto the wing, before laying themselves out on top of the fuselage.
