“Where?”
“Her sleeves cover it.” It’s all I can bring myself to say. Because the words As long as they leave her clothes on won’t form.
I can’t say it.
I can’t bear imagining.
Because that would be bad enough. The absolute worst. But if they suspected the tracker… I almost heave. They’d cut it out of her.
“How far ahead are they?” Karmine asks, forcing me to think of something else.
The men went as quickly as they could, but we needed to refuel and lost precious time.
“About eight minutes,” I tell her, but we both know I can’t just jump off this plane and get her.
Even if we could land at the same airport, we can’t land second. We don’t know what sort of weaponry they have. They could take out our entire plane before we even touch ground.
So I have to make assumptions.
I assume, based on their trajectory, they’re headed to Phoenix.
I assume when they land, they’ll take Cassandra to Marcoux’s compound in the dessert.
I assume the satellite images King got are accurate.
I assume this is all a tactic to get me. And that they’ll keep Cassandra alive.
“We’ll get her, Hans,” Karmine promises. “I owe you this.”
She doesn’t owe me shit. But I need her help all the same. “Just head to Cain’s hangar in Phoenix. We’ll gear up there.”
“On my way.”
I hang up and hit on Cain’s contact.
It rings twice, and before he can speak, I start. “Change in plans. Couldn’t wait for the delivery.”
I wouldn’t consider us friends exactly, but he knows this life well enough to know that a last-minute change in plans is not a good thing.
“Where are you headed?”
“To your city.”
“What do you need?”
I tell him.
CHAPTER 108
Cassie
My head hits something hard, forcing a groan out of my throat.
The world jostles around me.
“Come on, bitch.” An ugly voice tugs at my arms.
Fuck you.
I try to say it, but I can’t get my mouth to work.
I’m so tired.
CHAPTER 109
Hans
The plane slows to a stop directly in front of the open hangar door, and I’m the first one down the stairs.
There’s a catering van parked just inside the building and a line of SUVs parked along the side.
The ache in my thigh makes my steps uneven as I cross the tarmac and enter the hangar. But the bullet only tore through muscle; it didn’t hit bone, and it exited out the back, so the quick shot of antibiotics and tightly wrapped gauze beneath my pant leg will do until I get Cassandra back.
Before I reach the van, the driver’s door opens. And a man as tall as me, built like a weight lifter, with hair graying from age and experience, steps out.
Without a greeting, I follow him around to the back of the van, where Cain opens the rear doors, revealing an arsenal.
Dom, King, and Nero step up beside me.
“All of it?” I ask.
Cain dips his chin. “All of it.”
King leans into the van. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Hans said there’s a helicopter pad at the target,” Cain replies as King drags the case closer to himself. “You might not need to use—”
“Oh, I’ll use it,” King cuts him off.
A feminine whistle sounds from behind us, and we all turn.
Karmine stands there, having entered on silent feet, her red hair twisted back into one long braid. “Hi, boys.”
Then the side door opens, and a dozen of her soldiers walk through.
Their steps are as quiet as Karmine’s were, and their presence is menacing.
They know who we’re going after tonight.
They know the history.
My history.
And they want to kill him just as badly as I do.
As the women approach, the men from our plane join them, gathering around in front of me.
A sense of gratitude fills me, so large it nearly blocks out my fear.
Before me are the men of The Alliance, men of the Chicago mafia, Karmine’s warriors, and Karmine herself, the only person I’ve called a friend in a long time.
I can’t say thank you.
Can’t bring myself to speak. So I just nod.
And they all nod back.
CHAPTER 110
Cassie
Waking up after being chemically knocked out is not fun.
I had my wisdom teeth removed when I was twenty, and that’s the only time I’ve ever been out for something. But I hated the feeling. And I hate it even more now.
But most of all, I hate the big motherfucker carrying me over his shoulder like I’m a sack of rocks.
I tried to wake up when I was jostled off the plane. I really did try. But I slipped back under.
Not this time though. I’m staying awake.
I force my eyes to blink.
The sunlight makes them water, but I keep blinking.
I don’t actually know whether it’s better to be unconscious or conscious for whatever is about to happen. But I know Hans will come for me. So I need to stay alive until then. And at least if I’m aware of my surroundings, I can maybe do something to help myself.
Sucking the inside of my cheek between my teeth, I bite down. Not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to cause pain.
I am staying awake.
Eyes still blinking, I turn my head and try to take in my surroundings.
It’s hot, and the sun is still up, but it’s lowering toward the horizon.
A horizon covered in… Is that a cactus? It blurs, then comes back into focus as many. That’s a lot of cactuses. Cacti?
I work to steady my vision and see what looks like mountains, or maybe they’re just ragged hills. And I can’t tell if I see a fence or if my eyes are playing tricks on me.
Wherever I am, it’s nowhere good.
I open and close my mouth. The movement helps to spark my senses. But with those senses comes nausea.
The shoulder digging into my stomach is making it hard to breathe, and when the monster carrying me starts climbing steps, the bumping around is too much.
I press my hands into the man’s back and lift my head just in time to vomit up my stomach full of half-digested Skittles.
I pinch my eyes shut and feel tears dripping from my lashes as I heave again.
“What the fuck?” the man carrying me curses, and then my world turns again when he dips his shoulder, causing me to slide off.
I try to catch myself, but there’s no way.
I crash into a railing and have the awareness to be grateful that he dropped me on the landing at the top of the steps and not on the stairs themselves as I land in a heap.
I manage to get up onto my hands and knees before I dry heave once more.
“Stupid bitch,” the man growls, and I glance up to see him twisting around to look at the back of his pants.
I hope I puked all over him. I hope those were his favorite pants. And I hope he never gets the smell out.
He glowers at me, and it doesn’t even matter that he might be considered handsome. He’s a terrible human, so he’s ugly as shit.
“I’m not sorry,” I rasp out.