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I blow out a breath. “Good, this is very good.”
“Alright, they’re stopping just up ahead. Here we go.”
Mako levers himself out of the small car. Holding onto the open door, he throws up a hand. “Hello!”
Under his breath, he mutters, “A driver, a guard, and a man in a suit are walking this way.”
“Good day,” Mako says in a cheery voice.
I can’t hear the other person’s reply.
“Sure. He’s in the back. What would you like for me to do?”
Mako shifts and closes his door, he opens the rear passenger door where I’m seated. “Out you go.”
He grabs my arm and pulls me out. Careful to keep the cheek that should have the mark turned slightly, I climb to my feet.
Mako pushes me in front of him. “Here’s your man.”
Standing just ahead of us are two men. One obviously security. Big as a house, his pistol is already in his hand.
The other is remarkably like Wolf. Grayer, but just as fit. Just as agile-looking. I never thought about having to wrestle a man of Wolf’s physical stature to the ground. That may have been a serious miscalculation.
The smile the man flashes at me is chilling. Feral. The idea of this man getting close to Simona makes my skin shrink. “Son. Come to me. Let me get a closer look at you.”
With my hands fake tied behind my back, I say, “Excuse me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man straightens his jacket. “You’re my son. I said, come to me.”
I take a step toward him. “How can I be your son? I have parents. And you’re not one of them.”
“It’s a long story. One we can discuss over cocktails. It’s time for you to come home. Untie him.” He motions toward the guard. “And give the man his money.”
The guard moves to untie me, but Mako stops him. “Here, I’ll do it. I used a special knot. Just get my money while I do it.”
The guard grunts and turns back to the car. Stupid move.
This is our chance.
The second the rope drops from my hands, I leap for the man who claims he’s my father. My attack surprises him and I get the upper hand. Locking him in a chokehold, I wrestle him to the ground. With a perfectly placed lock, I knock him unconscious. God, I love that trick.
Mako’s standing off with the guard when I look up. Oh hell.
“Drop your weapon.” The big bodyguard shouts.
Mako laughs. “You first.”
The door to the limo swings open, and a skinny driver half falls out of the car. With shaking legs, he holds up a pistol. From the way he’s holding the thing, I’m ninety-nine percent certain he’s never shot a gun.
Great, just what we need. Barney Fife on the scene.
The ground suddenly starts to rumble, and the air turns viscous, suddenly, as wind whips around us. The deafening roar of a helicopter swoops in on us.
Dirt flies off the ground, in my eyes, in my mouth. Holding my hand up, I try to make out what’s happening.
From above, an English voice rumbles through a speaker. “Drop your weapon now or be fired on.”
I stare in disbelief as one SAS soldier after another fast-ropes down to the ground. In seconds, we’re surrounded, and the bodyguard is face down on the ground. The driver is on his knees with his hands in the air and a look on his face that says he’ll never leave the house again.
