Page 139 of Severed Rivalry
Ayla extends a hand, grabbing mine and keeping it, squeezing occasionally.
Fitz and Ren speak in low rumbles, hardly audible even on this quiet aircraft. Finally, Ren turns to the group. “Phones on silent. Disable vibration except for the new app. Location services on.”
“It’s a risk,” Fitz puts in.
“One that’s worth it,” Ren trumps his thought.
“Leave no trace,” Liam interjects as Christian yanks up a pant leg and slides a gun from a holster at his ankle.
Liam opens his jacket and hands me one of two pistols inside and a knife from his pocket.
“You didn’t have these at—” I start.
“Nope.”
Ren and Fitz check their weapons as well before holstering them and settling back into the seats. I’ve never seen them in action. Why would I have? But to see the military training transformtheir faces into nothingness as our wheels touch down is unreal.
Liam drops the lid of his computer, slides it to Ayla, before reopening it and using a fingerprint to unlock it. “Just in case.” He pats his pockets and closes his eyes, taking one deep breath.
Then he speaks.
“Cian, you already decided. You get Renée. No matter what you hear or see, you get her. I’ve got your girl.”
I open my mouth to speak but I’m met with a meaty palm. “I’m in charge now.”
“Christian, find Rosie. Do what you need.” He turns to the two Army veterans. “You two do whatever it is you know to do to keep us safe. First the Ocoteas. After that, us. If it comes down to us or them, you save them. Understood?”
Both men look to Christian, their employer, and Ayla, but don’t wait for permission. “Understood,” echoes from their lips just as the plane slides to a halt.
“Love you, Princess. Do not move.” Christian says to his wife.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“My Ayla.” The words are meant only for her as he drops his mouth to hers.
I look away.
“Let’s go.” I stand and lead the charge out of the door, hoping like hell we all return and are four heavy on the flight home.
We pile into the car with Fitz driving and Liam riding shotgun. I won’t swear to it, but being sandwiched between my brother-in-law and an even-larger Ren Gallo seems like containment.
I’m tired of being corralled. I’m tired of being eliminated from deciding on my own mission. Why the hell do I allow people to make decisions for me?
“Li, what’s the layout of this compound?”
He hands his phone to me. Heat signatures move all around. There are hundreds of them.
“How are we supposed to find them? And are we walking into an ambush? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Does it matter?”
“That you didn’t tell me?” Yes, it matters.
“No. That we’re walking into that many people? That extraction is this complicated?”
No, it does not. Shaking my head side to side, I say simply, “No.”
“Exactly. You were going in either way. Which means so are we.”
