Page 92 of The Games We Play

Rocco and I take a few steps toward the front of the plane where Miller is sitting, sorting through papers from the file Rocco pulled on Nathan.

The slapping of metal on metal snags my attention as the flight attendants retract the airstairs and close the cabin door. The cockpit door is still ajar and I can see the shoulder of the pilot and co-pilot as they flip switches and prepare for flight.

The pilot glances back at me and I give him a nod that we’re good to go.

“What’s going on?” I place my hands on my hips and roll my eyes, because I’m just now realizing I don’t have a shirt on.

Miller glances up, snickers to himself, and looks back down.

“Wipe that smile off your face and tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s not a smile, it’s hardly a grin.” Rocco smacks Miller's chest with the back of his hand. “What? He’s got it bad. I’ve never seen him like this, just taking full advantage.”

I glare at him, completely unamused by his amusement, fighting to block my own smirk because my boys see right through me, but I don’t care about any of that when it comes to Mimi.

I’d happily tell the world how gone I am for her.

He clears his throat as my resolve beats out his. He begins to share the details of what he has found out about the parole hearing and the timeline of when they’ll transfer him from the prison to the courthouse. He’s even mapped out the route the bus will go and the guards that will escort the prisoner during the transfer.

I take in all the details that Miller and Rocco put together. Their plan is to take over the transport bus as it’s on route to the courthouse, then take Nathan to a secure location.

My guys are good, really good, and I’m suddenly feeling very grateful they have my back, no questions asked.

Jesus, Mimi is rubbing off on me. I am getting soft in my old age. Who am I kidding? That’s not age speaking. It’s love. I’m desperately in love and happier than I’ve ever been, and it’s making me ridiculously soft and weak.

And for some goddamn reason, I don’t care.

Except when it comes to finishing Nathan and making the rest of his life—if we grant it to him—as miserable as possible.

“The plan is good, but I have a better idea. Remember when we had to break you out of that prison in Tijuana?” I glance over at Rocco and he spears me with the look of the devil.

“Yeah, it took you long enough, too.” His reply is dry. Miller and I smirk as we look at each other, recalling that mission.

“Well, what if we get you in one this time?” I reply, looking back at Roccoas his face falls.

“That’s a U.S. maximum security prison.” He points at the paper, securitizing my comment.

“No, not there. We don’t need to worry about the prison or the transport bus if we know his final destination. He’ll be here until he’s brought into the courthouse for the hearing.” I point at the courthouse holding cells, which are minimally monitored compared to the prison.

Both Rocco and Miller stand a little straighter. Miller nods his head in a silent agreement as he looks over at Rocco. “He’ll be a sitting duck, an easy target.”

“You’re going to kill him?” Mimi’s voice rings through the air like a foghorn, and I turn to see her standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

Shit.

I turn back to face the guys and whisper, “Set it up. But this is plan B. No one moves on this unless I give the green light, understood?”

The guys look confused, but nod. “What are we calling it, sir? The Op?” Miller asks.

A few things flash through my head, landing on only one option.

The hunter known for killing beasts.

“Orion.” My voice is low as I respond to them before I step back and guide Mimi back into the room, shutting the door behind me.

“You’re planning to kill him?” Mimi blurts out, her arms flailing out to her sides. She’s pacing the room, unsure of how to feel. “I don’t want him dead.”

“I do.” My response comes out as a cat-like reflex and I know I can’t take it back.

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