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I don’t ask how he would manage that. This is Tag. He’s not lying. He knew I’d beat him, at least in life. He wants me to suffer in his death. I repeat my words. “You know what comes next.”
Tag doesn’t mince words. “You’re going to kill me and he’s going to kill her.” He laughs.
I pick up the gun and shoot him between the eyes, grab my hat, and then stand up. “Alejandro is next.”
We exit the house and walk toward the Porsche 911, and officially a chapter of my life is gone, over, done. I dial Adrian. “Where’s Alejandro?”
“They arrested him.”
“There’s a price on Candace’s head. Get her on the fucking plane and lock her down.”
I hang up and Adam and I climb into the car. I toss my hat in the backseat and by the time I crank the engine I have Asher on the line. “Tag’s dead. His men are dead. Any update on the general?” I back us out of the driveway.
“Radio silence right now. I’ll let you know when I know. No red flags.”
I shift us into drive and idle. “Tag left a price on Candace’s head. Alejandro is an assassin. He was arrested. I need to know exactly where they took him.”
“Drive toward the hotel,” he instructs. “I’ll find out and call you back.” He disconnects.
I gun the accelerator. “Tag could be bluffing,” Adam states, but it’s really a question.
And I answer. “No.” That’s all I say. That’s all he needs to hear. He doesn’t ask again. I don’t even bother to tell him that Asher’s locating him. He’ll know. That’s how we operate—like a fucking team that would live and die for each other. When I was with Tag, we were exactly what Alejandro is: a killer. Nothing more. Nothing less. No one wants one of those killers coming for them and yet, one of those killers is after my woman.
I whip us onto the highway and my cellphone rings again. “Bad news,” Asher says. “The cops are dead. Alejandro is missing. A manhunt is underway.”
Alejandro will know we’ll go to the airport. He may even guess that we’ll go to the nearest private strip to our location which was that party. I exit and do a hard U-turn to drive the wrong way down the access road. I have to get to Candace before he does.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Candace
Adrian’s phone buzzes with a call and I hang on every word I can make out, which is not much. All I know is that he’s talking to Rick. He disconnects and I expect an update. He offers nothing. He simply keeps on driving. I can’t accept nothing. Not right now.
“What did he say?”
“He’s on his way to meet us at the airport.”
I rotate to face him. “What about Tag?”
“He’s dead.”
“What else?” I push.
“Nothing else.”
“We both know that’s not true. What did Rick tell you that you aren’t telling me?”
He turns us onto a dark narrow road and with that maneuver the small airstrip that is our destination comes into view, beaming lights illuminating the single field. “Adrian, what—”
Adrian curses and scrubs his jaw. “Alejandro killed the police officers and escaped. Tag has some sort of death price on your head.”
I rotate back into my seat and ball my fingers into my lap. “He killed the police,” I whisper, trying to process what I’ve just been told.
“Holy shit,” Smith murmurs, drawing his weapon.
The weapon’s a trigger, my trigger. Through all of this tonight, I never reached for my weapon. Why? Why was I not properly ready to defend myself? My purse is across my chest, and at my hip, a part of me to such a degree that I have forgotten it right along with the gun. I grab for it now, and open it, pulling out my handgun.
“Oh fuck,” Adrian growls. “Do you know how to use that thing?”
“Very damn well,” I assure him. “Do you want me to shoot you like my daddy taught me or like Rick taught me?”
To my right, Smith is on the phone. “We’re coming in. Code Four.”
Code Four must mean “about to be killed by an assassin.”
Meanwhile, Adrian replies, “Either way you shoot me, sweetheart, I’m dead,” he says. “I always wanted to die at the hands of a pretty girl. Kill me.”
“That’s sick,” I growl.
He laughs. “I guess that was one of my better jokes.” He turns us into the airport, and I glance in the rearview mirror afraid of being followed but there is nothing and no one there. I breathe out in relief that is short-lived. Code Four. We’re coming in and it’s a Code Four emergency.
We’re on a dirt road and barreling toward a plane that sits on the runway. As much as I want to be inside that plane, ready to take off, my mind conjures images of being trapped in that small space and killed. There would be nowhere to go if that monster showed up with a gun. Lights flicker behind us and I whip around to eye the car behind us, as the headlights flick off and on three times. “Chill, baby girl,” Adrian coos. “That’s Savage.”
