Page 79 of Worth

“Airport,” Zander clips out. I take a peek at what he’s doing as he cuts away Kitten’s shirt from her shoulder. “Helicopters can’t fly into airport airspace without clearance.”

“Fuck no, they can’t,” I agree and try to coax more speed out of Redd.

The Hummer keeps up but doesn’t gain any more space as we race towards the city. That little blue airport sign is a welcome bitch as we cross into the city limits. Just as I feel relief settle in, the exit to get to the airport within eyeshot, gunfire peals out. I swerve in my lane, as bullets rain down on us. The noise stops and I look up in time to see Zander move himself from where he was shielding Kitten and grab the weapons bag.

He hoists up the AK-47 I begged him to get for me and takes aim. Zander wouldn’t go for the fully automatic one—he claimed that automatics weren’t as accurate. Personally, I just wanted one for fun.

He begins to fire at the helicopter, which is where he must have figured out that the bullets came from, just as I jerk onto the exit for the airport. Sweat drips off my chin from the adrenaline as I cut through two cars that are turning into the airport. They lay on their horns as I whip between them and Redd’s tires squeal in the turn.

The AK stops sounding. “It’s okay, baby girl. Just keep pressure on it,” Zander says and I check on them, seeing how he’s holding his hand over hers on the wound.

Movement catches my attention and I laugh as I see the Hummer get held up by the drivers I just pissed off. Screaming by car after car headed into the airport, a breath rushes out of me when I see the helicopter pull back and turn, heading parallel along the airport.

“Fuck yes!” I yell. “We lost the helicopter! They’ll try to go around to meet us on the other side.”

“Assholes are still following us, though,” Zander yells back.

I grin. “Not for long.”

Zander shouts at me as I take a hard left through the median dividing the airport traffic, Redd hopping through the little grassy dip, narrowly missing mowing over a flowering bush. I feel Redd struggling to make pivot, turning the wheel the opposite way as it shakes in my hands. The car jerks as I manage to bring Redd under control and we shoot forward, heading the opposite way that we came. We pass the Hummer going the other way and I wiggle my fingers at them in a wave, noting their lack of firepower in the airport. Guess they don’t want to kill any bystanders.

We bolt out of the airport, my attention bouncing between the road in front of us and checking the road behind for the Hummer.

I let out a whoop. “I think we lost th—”

I see the black SUV coming straight for us, catching sight of it as I swing around to look at Zander and Kitten, but I don’t have time to react.

All I can hear is Kitten screaming as Redd tumbles through the air.

Silence then, as metal crunches all around us.

And then it all goes black.

I cough as I wake up, my ears ringing. Confusion spears through me as I mark all the places I’m hurting. My hands automatically flex, but there’s surprise when I don’t feel ropes pulling at my wrists. A breeze ghosts over me, sending goosebumps down my aching arms.

Blinking my eyes open, I see the sky above me. Which makes sense—I can feel the soft cushion of grass underneath me.

What doesn’t make sense is how I got here.

I try to move and a pained groan parts my lips. Even my lips hurt.

A car door slams, followed by the crunching on glass, and the sound sparks a million memories to hit me at once: of Aiden and Zander; of the gunfights at the house; of the car chase; of getting shot; and a vague memory of flying through the air, being launched out of Aiden’s car as another smashed into it.

“Yes, Mr. Vetella. We’ll bring her to you straight away.”

My already abnormal breathing stutters. Which Vetella—Stephen or Mordecai?

Neither is a good option.

Where are Aiden and Zander?

My bones scream at me as I try to move, tears leaking down my face as I force my arm to push myself up. I make it far enough to catch sight of Aiden’s car laying in a twisted and mangled heap, and fall back with a whimper as a man dressed in camo stops next to me, still on the phone. Sirens sound in the distance.

I have to go.Move. Move! MOVE!

But I can’t.

My limbs won’t move. They can’t support me. I can’t even crawl my way out of here.

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