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“My sniper’s just waiting for your finger to move a hair and it’s all over for you. You really wanna wager on his aim?” I say, glancing at the four dead men lying on the ground.
“I didn’t get no message,” he says.
“I believe you. Drop the gun and walk away. I’m done talking,” I say, losing my fucking patience with this shit.
“Fuck!” he yells, dropping his gun to the ground. I might have told him that I would let him walk away, but Matt turns and sends his elbow into the asshole’s face, and his steel-toed boot into his balls. The fucker drops to the ground gasping, and my men go and grab Matt, walk him to the limo, and place him into the back seat.
Thank fuck! We’ve got him. I send a message to Brian, who has already boarded the Gulfstream that is on the way to LA.
Hold the plane when you get there. We have Matt. ETA 10 mins.
I take a good look at Matt, and my blood simmers. The fuckers that did this to him are lucky they’re dead. It’s clear that Bernatelli didn’t call off the hit, but instead informed his team to move Matt.
We’ll deal with that later. I’m just glad that we’ve gotten both him and Sasha out alive, but Matt’s breathing isn’t fucking right. I send a message to our doc. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going with us to LA. We just got word that the Chicago Mafia is heading toward Brian’s place in LA and Jenny is in trouble.
My team messages me letting me know that Bernatelli’s crew is after us. So much for his goddam word. He thinks he’s going to take our crew out at the airport, but I’ve already alerted the authorities through Cassie. She’s done an excellent job alerting paparazzi, and as a result, Bernatelli’s crew will think we’re on the Boeing 757 parked on the tarmac. In addition, the inner-city SWAT team has been called in thinking they’re after terrorists instead of the mafia they’ll find instead.
We’ll be on the Gulfstream, and as soon as our entire crew makes it through the doors, we’ll lift off.
Everything happens in fast motion. The limo pulls up as close to the Gulf as the driver can, and Nick and I jump out at the same time, marching Matt up the ramp. Fuck, he’s having a hard time even moving one foot in front of the other, but Nick and I get him up the ramp and into the plane.
Brian Carrington, richest bastard in almost the entire world, greets us and points the way toward his bedroom where we take Matt. My jealous heart hates the fact that he’s the one Sasha really wants, but I need to suck up my pride. I’ve come to know he’s a great guy and we owe him a debt of gratitude for getting Matt and Sasha out of this alive, but that doesn’t help my jealousy one fucking bit.
Brian’s anxious to be up in the air, and I understand his anxiety because if Sasha were in the heat that Jenny is in right now, I would lose my shit. In fact, retaliation against her is precisely what I’m afraid of and why my men are with her and will do what it takes to keep her safe until I return.
Brian offers to keep Matt comfortable so I can take care of what I need to do. The team on the ground calls to give me an update. I listen as we discuss the plan and how it’s about to unfold. “You’ll hear gunshots in about five minutes, as soon as you do, veer sharp left through the gates and get him and those men onto this Gulfstream. The SWAT team should take care of the rest; they’ve been alerted and think they’re after terrorists on the Boeing.” I say.
Matt’s safe, and while he’s fucked up, the doc’s on the way and he’ll live. I wait for his arrival and am in constant contact with the crew on the ground taking care of Jenny Torzial. Shit’s not looking good in that respect, but I can’t bring myself to tell Brian what’s happening until I know without a doubt that Jenny will get through it alive. She’s at his LA home, and my men have taken her to the safe room, but fuck. Scottie, Brian’s ex-security head, the one that went rogue, is still in the picture, and if that’s any indication, then we need to navigate things a hell of a lot differently because this fucker created the goddamn safe room that we just sent Jenny into.
I send message after message to my teams while the doc boards and we take off. I’ve just finished calling backup to Carrington’s place to take Scottie out when I receive a message from intel. I read it over and over. Scottie’s working with Interpol. Well fuck me, and after reading the report he sent over an email on my phone, I’m sure it’s true. I alert my men not to take him out, but to observe him.
The doc arrives, and Brian’s telling him that he’ll be taking care of Matt in the air, and I know his patience is growing thin. The man is a real hothead when it comes to Jenny Torzial, and after all these years I finally understand how that feels. Fuck, and now, I need to have a sit-down discussion with this guy in the confined space of his Gulfstream and tell him that all hell’s going to be breaking loose at his estate at about the same time we touch down in LA and that the Chicago Mafia is trying to silence the woman he loves.
He fucking knows something’s up. His eyes are narrowed, and his breathing is heavy as he watches me. When I take a seat next to him and my men, he only has one word for us. “Spill,” he says as the Gulfstream lifts off into the night.
I’m not going to sugarcoat this situation. That’s not what Chase or Brian pay me to do, but I feel good that I can assure Brian that every precaution necessary is being taken and back-up plans are in place just in case shit goes south. I give him the news straight, and then we give him some space to process. I have good men on the ground, and they are providing me with play-by-play updates, and I trust them, but it’s going to be a long fucking plane ride if the anxiety on Brian’s face is any indication.
He finally settles in and starts working on something that holds his attention, and I go in and check on Matt and the doc. The doc gave him something for the pain, and he’s out cold. His face looks like someone used it as a punching bag, but he’ll be as good as new in a few weeks.
I click on the app that allows me to check on Sasha through the webcam I’ve had the team place in my room. She’s still sleeping, her long blonde hair cascading around her shoulders, and she looks just like an angel.
We’re about twenty minutes from landing when all hell breaks loose. I am in constant connection with my team, and I’m pretty sure any minute Brian is going to lose his shit. All the money in the fucking world and we can’t make this goddamn Gulfstream move any quicker. I’ve already instructed the pilot to get us there as fast as he can, fuck fuel conservation, and I know he’s doing his best. I’ve even told him to change course and drop us at the private strip that will put us five minutes away from Carrington’s Bel Air estate.
The men keep me apprised as things heat up. The mafia soldiers sent to hurt Jenny clearly haven’t gotten the message that she’s been removed from the list, and that pisses me off. Bernatelli and I will be having a conversation, but I’ll wait and send the message with dead bodies if he doesn’t call this shit off. The security team on the ground and their execution of the detailed plans we laid out is perfect.
* * *
As soon aswe land and I know Jenny is safely with Brian and Matt is being taken care of, I give the order to have that fucking plane refueled and flight plans approved to take me back to Chicago. I watch Sasha sleeping from the screen of my phone as the pilot takes off, and I can only hope that she doesn’t wake up before I arrive.
10
SASHA
I playthe conversation over in my mind, and it just keeps repeating. “You make sure Sasha wipes me from her record, from her cell phone, and from her life.” Over and over again my father’s words repeat in my head. Why doesn’t anyone love me? Is he trying to kill me? His own daughter? I don’t know how to answer the questions rattling around in my mind, and I can’t seem to get past the pain of it all, even with Jay holding me close. I feel a slight prick, but he caresses my nape until suddenly all the noise in my head finally quiets, allowing me to drift into a deep state of relaxation and sleep.
I am dreaming, deep in slumber, the white puffy clouds against the blue sky engulfing me, embracing me, keeping me protected until I am awakened by the sharp sound of shots that ring out around me. They fall short, missing their target time and time again, until they don’t. The cloud encompassing me is finally hit, and the air slowly starts to dissipate, and it’s at that exact time all hope that I can keep rising above the challenges life keeps putting in my way is completely shattered, and I begin free falling towards the ground.
The steady rush of air as I descend through the sky takes my breath away, but the constant push against my shoulder and movement of my body finally pull me from a drug-induced sleep. I open my eyes, settling on the deep hazel eyes that are watching me intently. “Wake up, Angel,” Jay says, caressing my cheek.
