Page 189 of Hans


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“You sure this is a good idea?” Dom shouts over the wind.

I grin and repeat Nero’s response from a moment ago. “Pretty sure.”

Dom shakes his head, saying something aboutfucking assholesas he shakes out a fireproof blanket and tucks it between his seat and Nero’s, creating a flimsy excuse for a wall.

Hans already has his blanket pulled up over himself and Cassie, so there’s no more delaying.

I don’t have a blanket. But I don’t need one. Backblast isn’t a problem for the operator. And with both doors open, it shouldn’t be a problem at all. We’re just playing it safe.

Safe.

My laugh gets lost in the wind as I pick up the item that first caught my eye in the back of Cain’s van.

With a big stupid grin, I hoist the rocket launcher onto my shoulder.

“Fire in the hole!” I shout. Then I pull the trigger.

A burst of flames shoots out behind me, getting sucked out the open door before anything inside the cabin can catch fire.

In my periphery, I see Dom rip his blanket down so he can watch through the open door.

We’re moving. And I’m not exactly professionally trained to handle rocket launchers. But it’s a big fucking target.

And when it hits, it hits.

The first explosion is immediate. And then the entire structure vibrates as smaller explosions are ignited.

When the gas lines blow, they set off the pile of grenades that Hans left in the kitchen, and I have to close my eyes against the brightness.

But it doesn’t stop my smile.

CHAPTER125

Cassie

“Hans,”I sigh, but he just carries me into the airplane hangar, refusing to set me down.

We took the chopper to an empty patch of desert, where Nero landed it fairly well. Then we were met by some guy driving a catering van, which wasn’t actually a catering van.

Not much was said as we all lounged against the walls, sitting on the floor in the back of the van, but just now, when we got out, I noticed they left that big bag full of money behind.

“Baby, I’m okay.” I try to reason with Hans.

“You’re not okay,” he grits out next to my ear.

I made the mistake of gingerly touching my head a few minutes ago, causing Hans to ask what was wrong. So I told him about Dead Andre pulling me by my hair, and he said something along the lines ofI should’ve kept his hands for you. And Hans has been boiling with rage ever since.

So, while everyone else is working to ready the plane we’ll take back to Minnesota, I continue to cling to Hans like a koala.

I expect him to set me on one of the benches along the wall, but he veers off and takes us into one of the unused offices.

It’s just a plain square room with one door, a set of windows that look into the hangar, and a round table with four folding chairs.

Hans lowers me onto a chair. “Stay right here.”

“Hans, seriously, I?—”

He holds up one finger. “Cassandra, we have at least three hours in that plane and then another hour before I tuck you into bed at Nero’s house.”

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