Page 2 of Lethal

“I’ll hold you both responsible if he steps foot on that plane without me,” I threaten. Ideas already forming of how I’ll make them pay.

Jasper’s eyes light up with an evil gleam. “So anything goes? Anything at all?”

Yep. That man knows what he wants to do, and something tells me he’s been keeping it in his back pocket for a while. I can tell by the way he’s asking he thinks it’s something that might piss me off.

At this point, I don’t care what it is, as long as I don’t lose Cole to his vendetta. My fingers twitch, and I wish I had the knife he gave me. Nothing makes a conversation sound more threatening than when you have a weapon flicking between your fingers. Although, on second thought, Jasper would find that hot. “Killing him is off the table.”

“Don’t worry, Little Bird. He won’t leave without you. I’ll make sure of it.” Jasper smacks my ass as he walks past, following Vander into the garage to chase after Cole. The sting prickles against my cheek, reminding me of when he painted my ass red at the shooting range. Damn, I need him to fuck me like that again.

I shake off the thought and push away my worries about what he might do. There simply isn’t time for it right now. My focus needs to be on getting dressed so Grayson and I can leave. There’s some banging in the kitchen as I storm up the stairs, but I ignore it.

When I reach the top, I find Grayson walking out of Vander’s room as I whip around the corner. He has five bags in his hands, most likely the same ones Vander mentioned. I didn’t even know Grayson was close enough to overhear. Shows how much of a one track mind I’m dealing with right now. “I’ve got these. I’ll meet you in the garage.”

A weak smile is all I can muster for him. I’ll give him a better thank you later. I grab the first things my hands touch, dragging on the jeans and a t-shirt as quickly as possible. I don’t bother with a bra or underwear, as they’ll only slow me down, and barely spare the time to slip on socks before slamming my feet into lace-up boots. Seems like a situation where serious shoes are in order. Never know when you might have to use your shit kickers. And there’s no doubt Cole deserves to have his ass kicked.

My brother meets me at the bottom of the stairs, his phone in one hand, and a set of keys in the other. At the sound of my footsteps, he glances up from the phone and slides it into his pocket. “I’ve contacted my men and given them the tracking information on the vehicle Cole borrowed. They have orders to detain him, but let me tell you now, if it ends up damaged, you’re paying me back.”

He waves his hand in a follow me motion and walks off to the garage. “You have trackers in your vehicles?”

Enzo throws me a scathing look over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t you, Sorella? I’m not about to risk a rival coming into town and fucking with my things, losing precious time when I could have tagged my shit.”

“Aren’t you worried about someone hacking into it and using it against you?” I ask as we enter the garage. Grayson catches my eye right away where he’s scrunched in the back of Enzo’s sports car. The bags must be shoved in the tiny trunk, which is a good thing, seeing as there’s no more room in the backseat. I slide into the front, and Grayson places a comforting hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. The smell of leather surrounds me.

“Cole’s services have been for hire for a while. Everything electronic is protected from anyone hacking it, and there’s a failsafe in place to wipe everything clean if I need it,” Enzo says, resuming our conversation as he starts the car and throws it into reverse.

We speed down his drive, accelerating even faster when we hit the streets. Enzo doesn’t waste any time slowing for turns, which I appreciate. “Why am I only now finding out about this?” I grumble.

“To be fair, I didn’t know about it until he said something. He works in the dark, never sharing his name. Everything is completely anonymous.” Enzo stops talking when the tires scream as we take a turn a little too sharply. “Knowing his reputation makes me trust him even more. He’s made a name for himself. I’m happy to help you guys out in any way you need.”

I glance at my brother, taking in the sincerity written all over his features. “Thanks, Enzo. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” he asks, sparing a quick peek at me before focusing on the road again. “For good,” he specifies. There’s a hint of sadness in his question that tugs on my chest.

“It seems that way. Don’t worry, little bro, I’ll come back and visit.” I pat him on the arm in a teasing way, knowing he’s concentrating on the road. “I’ll need to get the rest of our stuff, anyway.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he says, chuckling. “You know Padre won’t be happy about this, right?”

A scoff bursts out of me. “Like I give two shits.”

Enzo winces. “Don’t worry, I’ll smooth it over with him.” I’m not worried about the man who abandoned me, not in the least. “Again,” he adds under his breath.

We make it to the airport in no time. Some of his guys are already here manning a gate where a security guard is suspiciously missing. They hold the barrier open, ready for Enzo to drive in without having to stop. He navigates us toward the same hangar where they picked us up when we arrived in New York.

It draws closer and I keep my gaze set on Cole’s private jet where it sits on the tarmac. The stairs are down, ready for someone to climb on. It’s a clear sign Cole hasn’t boarded yet. Because I know he wouldn’t pause for a single second once he’s inside. He’d pull them shut himself and demand the crew to take off immediately.

We’re almost there when a car comes from the other side of the hangar. It’s banged the fuck up explaining why we’re getting here at the same time. I’m not sure if it was my guys or Enzo’s men who crashed into him, but I’m thankful for whoever stalled him.

“Fuck!” Enzo growls. “You so owe me, Sorella.”

“I’ll make sure Cole sends you a new one,” I say with a laugh lacking all humor. “Stop the car,” I demand, watching as Cole sprints for the stairs of the plane. We’re still too far away to make it in time to stop him from boarding. But that doesn’t mean I can’t stop him another way.

Enzo whips his head around to look at me, sending us dangerously close to spinning out with his focus on me instead of the road. “You sure?” he objects, regaining control of the car.

“Do it,” I growl, a flair of annoyance sparking between us. I don’t like being questioned, even by my brother.

He slams on the brakes, and the seatbelt holds me in place as we abruptly decelerate. The terrible sound of screeching tires fills my ears. I’m already drawing my gun as I fling the door open and step free. Years of marksmanship training have me lining up the sight based on muscle memory alone, and I pull the trigger, hitting my target dead on.

Chapter 2

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