Page 46 of Gabriel
“Whatever’s going on, don’t be acting reckless,” he added.
“Define reckless,” I snickered. “And that coming from someone like you is rich, nephew.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, what was I thinking? You and reckless don’t belong in the same sentence. Except for where your fixation with Amara is concerned.”
“Go back to your wife, Nikola.”
I ended the call before he could reply while Luis narrowed his eyes. “So what’s the move? We hit the yacht first?”
I shook my head and exhaled slowly. “No, we let Amara kidnap me.”
Luis blinked. “Come again?”
“There’s a purpose to the order. They’re not grabbing me for sport. If I let her snatch me, it might lead me to Jet. All this… It has to do with him and whatever plan he’s cooked up.”
Luis stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “So you want to get kidnapped. By the siren mermaid.” His voice went up half an octave. “Are you concussed? Or just terminally stupid today?”
I gave him a tight smile. “A little bit of both.”
“Gabriel, please reconsider.”
“I have, and it’s a good plan,” I claimed, although it remained to be seen. Amara being with Elira could become a problem since she was just as crazy as her brother. “Amara is my way of finding Jet. I’m going to charm the pants off her to get her to trust me. She’ll tell me where Jet is and what his plans are.”
He muttered something that probably wasn’t a compliment and started tapping his fingers nervously against the dashboard. “Fine. But if you’re going in, I’m coming too.”
“No. You follow. I’ve got a ‘date’ with Amara tomorrow.” I looked at the time on the dash: 2:43 a.m. “Or, tonight, I guess. We’ll get me fitted with a tracker, and you’ll monitor the route.”
Luis rolled his shoulders, jaw set. “And if I lose your signal?”
“You burn the world to the ground.”
“Yeah. Got it. Gotta buy earplugs first.”
I frowned. “Earplugs?”
“So I don’t fall for the same song you did.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face, exasperated. “God help me. I’m going to get killed by either this idiot, Satan’s twins, or the love of my life.”
Luis snorted. “Stop whining. Let’s go shove a tracker in your ass or some other part of your flesh so you can play bait like a damn Bond extra. Honestly, best idea I’ve ever heard a mobster utter.”
He didn’t agree with the plan.
It didn’t matter.
I wasn’t asking for permission.
Amara
Istepped onto the yacht, running on fumes while dirt crusted on my skin and sweat dried like a second layer. All I wanted was a shower hot enough to burn and a bed cold enough to soothe my aching muscles.
But first, I had to see Elira.
I found her in the office, hunched over her tablet, glasses sliding down her nose, brow creased in deep concentration. The light from the screen carved sharp angles into her face.
I stood in the doorway, studying the mess surrounding her. There were cables snaked across the floor like vines, maps pinned to mahogany paneling, and a computer screen glowing on the wall. The air smelled of salt, metal, and stale electronics. The low hum of the engine vibrated faintly through the floorboards. Out of the small, salt-flecked porthole, dusk had begun to paint the sky in smudges of lavender.
“Hey,” I said, my voice rough as gravel.
