I unhook the seat belt and I’m instantly yanked to my feet. I let him drag me in front of him, me facing forward, him at my back. I step into the aisle and I move forward, while one of his men gives me an up-and-down glance that I ignore for a view of my own. The gun holstered at his rib cage is like chocolate on a bad day. I want it. I could take it if the moment were right, savor its delicious promises. If only the moment were right, but I want more than Neuville dead, I remind myself. I want to see Kayden again. I want to save Sara. And my father’s words play in my head. Discipline. Patience. Timing. You’re a small package. Strike like a cobra, not like a four-hundred-pound bear.
“Keep going,” Neuville orders, his damn hand at my hip. Maybe I’ll chop it off instead of killing him, but that would be a dirty job. There are other things I could chop off, and they could be worth the bloody aftermath, an idea that speeds my steps and leads me to the end of the walkway, where Neuville of course shoves me.
Getting the idea he’s intended, I more than happily step to the open door, and aside from the SUV limo awaiting us on some remote runway in who knows where, there are a good half dozen extra men and three black sedans. Wonderful. A convoy. If I kill the mob boss and our car stops, they kill me. Which means if I make that decision, I have to overpower our driver and the car while we’re still moving.
Neuville nudges me toward the stairs. “Move. Get going.” He’s irritated, obviously eager to get on the road, and I hope that means we’re in Kayden’s territory—my territory now, where escape will come with easy-to-find assistance.
As I hurry down the stairs, the sun is quickly sliding into the horizon, and the barely existent landing strip is void of any landmarks I can use to pinpoint our location. “Where are we?”
“A place we’re now leaving,” he replies predictably, his hand gripping my arm, tugging me toward the black SUV limo where Bastile waits for us by the back door, his holster just beneath his jacket and his big, tall body an easy target to hit when I eventually take his gun. “Get in,” he commands, as if I don’t get the point of the open door.
I climb inside the vehicle, and that’s when his gloating look on the plane comes back to haunt me, shock radiating through me as I find myself staring at Sara, who is wearing a stunning silver party dress.
“Ella,” she breathes out, a hint of relief in her shock that I’m not sure she should feel.
Recovering my initial jolt quickly, I give her a quick nod and mouth, “No emotion.”
She narrows her eyes and nods back, and the solidness of her chin, the determination to survive in her eyes, reminds me of the strength that I’ve always sensed in her, even when at times I didn’t think she knew it to be true. And while, no, I am not happy that she is here, the one good thing about Neuville putting us in the same place at the same time is that now I can kill him. Maybe not in this car, where she could end up in the crossfire of whatever action I take, but soon. Really soon.
Neuville slides into the car next to me, across from Sara, while Bastile joins the driver in the front seat. By my count that puts at least four men in two other cars, plus a driver in each, if I assume only those on the plane join us, and I can’t assume that at all. There were more men on the ground, many of whom could remain with the plane for our later departure, but they could also ride in the additional cars. The odds are not in my favor. This is not that right moment.
The minute the doors are shut we begin to move, and Neuville turns his attention on Sara. “Well, now,” he says, giving her an inspection, and though I can’t see his eyes from where I sit, I see hers. He’s already imagining her naked. “You really are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he says. “Chris Merit does know how to pick a woman. And that’s a ‘fuck me’ dress if I ever saw one. So yes, I think I will. Fuck you.”
To Sara’s credit, she listens to me. She shows no emotion. Instead, she looks at me and I silently tell her to hold her ground. Don’t react. “Should I fuck her now, Ella? I mean”—he grabs my arm, turning my wrist upward for his viewing and mine, “I’ve been staring at your naked body for hours, but I can’t fuck you with this trash on your skin.”
“I was naked for hours and your men knew it,” I say, goading him and turning the attention on me, and away from Sara. “That big one with the goatee looked at me like he wanted to fuck me. Is that what you wanted?”
He doesn’t take the bait. His lips curve sardonically. “I’m sure they all want to fuck you, Ella. I liked that they knew you were naked on the plane, and also that they couldn’t have you.” He holds up the picture he took of me. “And I like that Kayden is about to see you like this and know that I’m about to have you. He’ll think I already have, though, won’t he? But we won’t send it to him until we’re ready for him to find you. He’ll trace the data source when I hit Send, and I’m not foolish enough to use my regular phone line with The Underground involved.”
I face him. “You downplay Evil Eye too easily. You will pay for this.”
“I have recordings of you and Kayden plotting to kill me,” he says. “Evil Eye will be voided.” He looks to Sara. “Come to me. On this side of the car. I want both beautiful women by my side.”
“It will not be voided,” I say, determined to keep Sara away from him, no matter what that means for me. “You kill a Hawk, you die.” I shove my wrist at him. “You hurt a Hawk’s woman, you die.”