Page 15 of Triplets for the Russian Boss

“It must be close,” I say, rolling down my window. I stick my head out, enjoying the rush of cold air through my hair as I search the sky.

It doesn’t take me long to spot a green and white helicopter floating through the air toward my right. There’s coming down for a landing, and that tells me where the airstrip is.

We’re close.

I pull my head back in, smoothing my hair back with my hand as I roll the black tinted glass up again. “Take a right at the first turn you find,” I order.

“So that you can stick me in the luggage compartment of your swanky private jet and dump me over the ocean?” Bubbles asks, with a tone dripping with so much sarcasm I’m almost convinced she’s doing it ironically.

“Just drive the damn car, alright?” I ask. “Enough with the back talk. You’re getting on my nerves.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen what you do to people who annoy you,” she mutters.

I ignore it. We’re already almost to the landing strip, and all I have to do is key into the gate and grab the jet, so we can get to my office. After that, I have a bit of questioning to put Bubbles through. She’s going to let me know if I really fucked up, or if this is something that I can sweep under the rug without much thought.

Either way, I’m glad to have her with me. She’ll prove to be useful… one way or another.

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