Page 23 of Shark Bait

“I never know when I’ll piss you off, so it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“That’s good thinking, Shark Daddy. Not very useful now, but good thinking.”

“Thank you. Put the gun in the back of my waistband. I know this guy.” I can feel her hesitate to part with the gun, but I need her to hand over the weapon. “Do it,” I say firmly. As soon as she draws back the barrel and places it at my back, I grab the sheet with her money and haul it over my shoulder, then walk down the aisle.

“This is my friend Alessio Angelini. He’s the owner of this jet.” I stop in front of Alessio when he won’t move aside.

“What are you carrying?” he asks as he looks me up and down, no doubt assessing me for injuries.

“Target’s fifteen million. Give or take.”

A grunt, then a slight, quick lift of his chin as his gaze lands behind me. “That’s your wife, I presume?”

“Shhh.” I whisper in my native tongue, “Little more discreet about the wife thing, if you don’t mind.”

Alessio’s eyes narrow. “And why’s that, Casanova?”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll never hear the end of this. “She doesn’t know she’s my wife yet.”

We end our non-English exchange when I turn toward the girl, who’s apparently staying in the back. “Come on, birthday girl. I’m wiped and hungry.” To Alessio, I say, “Feed us, would you?” I keep things light and nonchalant for fear that once I tell the birthday girl what’s happening to her, she’ll try to run, in which case I’d have no choice but to hunt her. She’s a witness, and now she can identify Alessio too, which is precisely why he’s here. There’s no turning back.

Alessio looks from me to her, and since she’s behind me, I can’t see what she’s doing. Yet the moment the birthday girl gets up from her seat, I know. I know because I see the shock on my friend’s face as he takes in her whole body. Her whole, very pregnant body.

Alessio’s blue eyes widen like saucers. It’s comical how fast he whips his head toward me, his lips parting slightly, his gasp muted, but I hear it all the same. Alessio rarely lets his mask slip to show his emotions, but I don’t think he can contain himself.

I shrug. “It happens.”

“Not to you,” he states. I cannot father children.

“It’s mine,” the birthday girl says, drawing out the wordmine.

Alessio picks up on it immediately. “You’re an American.”

“Tennessee. Born and raised. Isn’t that right, Shark Daddy?”

“Daddy?” Alessio chokes out. I think my best friend might suffocate on his own rage. He’s barely containing himself, internally imploding, I’m sure.

She claps me on the shoulder. “It’s a joke that your hitman and I got going. I call him Shark Daddy since I don’t know his name.”

She called me a hitman. Alessio might strangle me right here and now.

Alessio’s left speechless or, rather, quiet while he plots the fastest way to end me before I can end him. He’s also likely putting together the elements of my story and what might’ve transpired during my mission. Finally, he inhales deeply, then exhales slowly and says, “Do you want to introduce us, Mr. Hitman?”

I swallow the proverbial hand grenade Alessio is shoving down my throat. “My name is Shark. Shark is good. I like it for my hitman vigilante name. This is my friend?—”

Alessio cuts in. “Your best friend.”

“Best friend,” I confirm to him, then lean in and whisper in her ear, “He’s very possessive of me. Don’t be surprised if he’s jealous of you.”

The birthday girl laughs at that.

Alessio doesn’t find me amusing.

I open my mouth to continue when he says, “Wait. You can give me a nickname. If he’s a Shark, what’s that make me?”

“Uh-oh,” I say. “What’s bigger than a shark?”

“Whale,” Alessio deadpans.

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