Page 134 of Severed Rivalry
“That plane,” I demand. “Where is it going?”
“I don’t know, man. Chill out.”
My eyes bug, and I clench my fists in an effort to relieve the pressure that wants to explode through my skin.
“He had women with him?”
“Yeah.”
“How many?”
“Not my job to count.”
“But it is… Lying on flight logs is criminal, so show me.”
“You’re harsh, dude.”
“This is an official audit. I’m with the FAA. You know youcould go to prison?” I lie through my missing teeth, losing precious seconds, but need information more than I care.
“Okay, okay. Chill. Here.” He opens a book and spins it my way.
I quickly use my phone to snap a pic, while reading the ledger.
John Smith. Josh Smith. Hannah Smith. Abigail Smith. Leah Smith. Martha Jones.
No ID under religious exemption.
Tail C25G88. K20CO to PIR.
I send the message to the group as I run for my truck. But where am I going?
Me: See attached.
A quick google search shows PIR is Pierre, South Dakota.
No. No. No. In this case, the devil we know is way worse than the devil we don’t.
Renée!
A phone rings through the cab. It’s Liam. I send him to voicemail, dialing Christian instead.
“Yeah?”
“I need a favor.”
“Thought so… We’ll meet you at Centennial Airfield.”
I ask nothing further and fight my sanity to figure out the fastest way to get to the opposite side of town. My soul is drowning, a lead weight bound to my ankles threatens to suck me under.
My love, my future, my family…
They’re zooming toward anguish, brutality, and torment.
And I’m stuck—always fucking stuck—trying to catch up.
This is not what I expected. Not at all. But I cannot complain.
My brother and sister, my brother-in-law and Ren, and a guyI’ve met but don’t know well named Fitzgerald Young are all buckled and ready for liftoff when I arrive.
