Page 141 of Retribution

As I’m walking to the bathroom, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I stop walking, turning around to look at people in the vicinity. I eye each of them carefully, none of them glancing in my direction.

Sighing, I continue to the bathroom.

I walk closer to the cafe, the same feeling that I can’t seem to shake, rises.

Someone is watching me.

I can feel it.

I stop and look around again, taking extra caution this time, seeing if there’s anyone’s face from earlier that I recognize.

Nobody.

I return to the table we were sat at, Devon and the other pilot sit with Indie, chatting about destinations they’ve visited, selecting their favorites. Indie listens in awe, nodding her head as she finishes her green smoothie.

“Time to go.” Devon stands up, buttoning his blazer.

We board the plane and sit in the same seats. As we begin to taxi onto the runway, I glance back at the glass windows of the airport, nearest to our terminal. A figure in dark attire stands there, watching our jet. I squint my eyes to try and get a closer look but before I can distinguish anything, the jet turns away and steals my view.

***

“Welcome to Dubai, ladies. The local time is 13:13, the climate is dry and it’s thirty-eight degrees Celsius, one-hundred-point-four degrees Fahrenheit.” Devon’s voice speaks through the intercom.

We’re both peering out of the window at the stunning blue skies and the brightness of it compared to Atlanta.

Grabbing our luggage and hauling it down the steps of the jet, the sun beams down on us.

After explaining everything to Indie, she needed a few hours to digest it, eventually falling into a deep sleep. I don’t blame her, it’s been a rough few weeks and this really is the tip of the iceberg.

Devon and his team are on standby, waiting for our signal.

It seems completely absurd to be doing something as crazy as this, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The longer Willow is here, the more chance they have to uproot and jet to another country. The tracker on her phone still says she’s here, the place where she is staying is only twenty-five miles away from the airport, so it gives us enough time to go over the plan for the last time, before we put it in action.

We climb into the back of the black SUV and the driver places our luggage in the trunk. We join the busy traffic, the coordinates already provided to the driver.

“We need to lay down a few ground rules here,” I begin as Indie rubs her eyes, trying to wake herself up more from the sleep on the jet.

“Please don’t panic, don’t be alarmed.” I pull open the middle compartment of the SUV and slide out the black case that’s embedded inside of it.

I flip the locks and open it, the 9mm pistol cushioned in the foam with an 18-bullet loaded magazine held in the corner.

“Reed what the fuck?” She gasps, looking around at the passers-by in case anyone can see.

“The windows are fully tinted and reflective. Don’t worry,” I assure her and remove the gun from the case.

“Oh my God.” She looks away.

“We don’t know what game they’re going to play here, Indie. We need to be prepared from all angles.” I pull out the magazine and push it into the gun, making a note that I haven’t reloaded it yet.

I set the gun back in the case and close it.

“Do you even know how to use that thing?” She looks at me with her jaw dropped.

“What do you take me for? An amateur?” I tease, but she doesn’t look impressed.

“Look, I have no intention to use it, only as a last resort.” I debate with her as she shrinks into the corner of the seat.

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