Page 111 of The Twins

Vegas

KATANTIA - 1 DAY LATER

Sugar puff isn’tby my side.

She’s back home, sweetening up my brother. Tara’s right there with them, supervising the troubled birds of the family.

My head is killing me, and my limbs feel as though sugar puff stomped all over my skin with high heels. That’s not my kink. At all.

I’ve made the same journey before. LAX to Katantia was nothing the last time I hopped on a plane to get here.

Big Daddy was paying for it at the time. It was a job, and I traveled around the world to execute it. Pun intended.

“Welcome to Katantia,” the flight attendant says to us. “Please remain seated. Mr. Winters and Mr. Castro will personally escort you out of the airport.”

I glance over at Charles, who’s fumbling with his phone, and I say to him, “You need to buy a new plan for your phone. We’re out of California now.”

“I’m old, but I’m not that old,” Charles responds. His brows draw together over the contents of whatever he attempts to dissect on his phone.

“Don’t click on anything unless our hosts confirm it’s clean. We don’t need you getting hacked, old man,” I tell him, chuckling away my anxiety.

You see, I slept. I ate.

Alex Winters is a generous man. He’s put a considerable amount of money into this investment, and it must have been expensive to fly us out of Los Angeles and into Katantia on such short notice. He’s got big basketball money, the type only the crème de la crème earns.

His wife may be a Katantian dictator, but the people love him, and he has sponsorships lined up for days. I researched the man after we met him in Los Angeles two months ago.

His private jet is the most comfortable bird I’ve ever flown on.

Yet, my body tells a different story. My eyes wander, landing on the aisle that separates Charles and me. I stare at the end of it, where the flight attendants murmur among each other.

Every inch of my body feels sore, and I can’t find peace in my seat. I shift where I sit, annoying the fuck out of Charles, who wants to send our family a sign that we’re still alive.

After a one-day journey from Los Angeles.

This is a test, involuntarily assigned to us by my sugar puff. Carey Jean is her girl, a minor in need. Katantia is a land of no rules. My homeland doesn’t care that we’re out here. I’ve been fired, and I’m officially an escort of the mission.

But nobody would bat an eyelash if Hugh Abbott never returned.

His friends would care, the ones who get their pervert kicks from him.

Other than that, the government has given Charles free reign. That’s what he says. I don’t know if you can trust a former beloved cartel son.

I’m here to be tortured by the memories of failing Grey. For the first time in years, I can’t focus on anyone but myself.

The flight attendants would keep me busy with their state of mind on any other day, but I’m having a bad day. I’m numbed out, and my sensors have shrunk drastically.

All I can see is Amira and her deceased bitch of a husband abusing her while she bleeds out. It’s an event that has traumatized Amira to the point of a blackout. She doesn’t recall ever flying to Katantia. It makes me feel at ease, but at the same time, when she can’t remember her abuse, I can’t forget it.

And it makes me restless.

Alex enters the private jet first. It’s custom-built for him, so he doesn’t bend his head to fit in. His size is no obstacle as he steps forward to greet us. He’s calm and steady while my palms are sweaty. “I hope you had a pleasant flight.”

He offers his hand, and I take it, barely mustering enough strength to shake it. His handshake is strong, too strong for me right now.

“My name’s Alex,” he introduces himself to Charles, who stands to greet our host.

“I’m Charles. Thank you for making this happen. We’ll be out of your hair in no time,” Charles assures the man.

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