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Staff Sergeant Tara Gonzales came over to us and yelled over the roar of the engines that we were five minutes out.
I nodded and turned toward Adrien to double-check he was rigged right. I slid my fingers under each strap and flap. He followed every movement, jaw tense, gaze full of determination. He’d done this before, at least. Ahem. Some fifteen years ago. They’d sent a few agents to Air Assault school—which was great. Army’s finest. He technically had his jump wings, so that was something.
“Are you glad you let me tag along or what?” I had to yell over the roar too.
He smiled stiffly. “Let’s discuss this if we survive!”
Please. This was the easy part.
“You had to have been aware of the risks!” I retorted. A Hercules couldn’t touch down wherever.
“I did have an option before you blurted out that we’d jump!” He gave me a little glare at that.
Cool, cool. He had a point. We’d had the option of landing in Puerto Rico, and then we’d have a two-day delay. Thanks, but no. This was better. We’d arrive early, allowing us almost twenty-four hours to scout the area before we donned cartel-worthy personas and sat down with one of Luca Blanco’s sons.
The son in question, Marco Blanco, was, according to Adrien, an unpredictable motherfucker. He was the twin brother of Vincente’s old man, who Elliott had killed way back.
We weren’t gonna tell him about that bit.
Even at the top, the cartel life was dangerous. Four sons didn’t sound like that many when you knew Luca used to have six sons and two daughters.
Sergeant Gonzales signaled to me when it was time to stand up, and I nodded and signaled back. Then I stood up and hooked myself to the anchor line before I assisted Adrien in doing the same thing. We were jumping out of the side hatch, so there would be no fun dive for me this late night. I preferred jumping out the back.
“Remember!” I yelled. “Feet and knees together! Chin down, drop and roll upon impact! Feet and knees together!”
“I heard you the first time!”
“Feet and knees together!”
He gave me a look.
I smiled and smacked a kiss to his cheek, knocking our helmets together.
We were gonna make an excellent couple.
I took the lead and headed for the hatch, where Gonzales waited. Nerves knotted in my stomach, the awesome kind that made me feel more alive than ever. Parachute training had been the fucking best. Give me a sling load with plenty of gear too, and I was in heaven. Unfortunately, we wouldn’t get the last part. We only had our packs.
“Twelve hundred and fifty feet in thirty seconds!” Gonzales shouted. “Safe journey home!”
“Oorah!” We bumped fists, and I turned back to Adrien once more. “Eyes on my beacon, and feet and knees together! It’s extra important because you’re so old!”
He couldn’t help himself, ’cause I was too endearing. His eyes flashed with amusement.
I unhooked us from the anchor line.
See you on the ground, papi.
One hundred and fifty knots.
Right out into the thick clouds.
Suh-weet.
With a nod from Gonzales, I strode forward, no hesitation, and jumped out, the extreme force of the wind immediately catapulting me sideways. The ear-deafening rumble from the engines was suddenly gone. The parachute deployed successfully, my stomach flipped with a wicked somersault, and I grabbed on to my handles and caught a quick glimpse of Adrien through the apex vent in the canopy.
Deep breaths.
The peace of the drop that normally sank in at this stage evaded me when I had shit to do. I checked my instruments to make sure we stayed on course, ’cause our drop zone was an abandoned airfield surrounded by jungle, and I didnotwanna climb no trees at two in the morning with a big-ass chute and millions of straps and a hot-as-fuck FBI agent who hadn’t jumped since I’d been in high school.
