Chapter 3 #2
By the time we reached the airport, Derek was a jittery mess, an emotion I’d never seen on him.
His leg bounced throughout the entire trip, and as soon as I stopped in the pickup zone, he was out of the BMW, striding toward the valets to inquire about his Bentley.
I turned off the car, uninterested in the airport worker in a yellow vest who waved at me to move.
I held his gaze, letting my size and the coldness in my expression do the work.
He hesitated, then backed away without a word.
If I got a ticket, I would deal with it later. Kit came first.
“I’m his father,” Derek snapped at the valet, who looked no older than twenty. The freckled man was visibly shaken, offering Derek a nervous smile.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I—”
“The car is mine.” He leaned over the desk, his voice low but carrying the weight of a command. “Tell me what I want to know.”
The freckled man’s brown eyes widened as his gaze slid to me. “Oh. Uh, let me check.” He quickly typed on the laptop in front of him, humming and nodding. “Yes, it’s here. The Bentley.” He read out the license plate. “The driver, a Mr. Christopher McIntyre.”
“That’s my son.” Derek’s eyes went flinty. “Can you tell me where he went?”
The man shook his head rapidly. “No, sir. We don’t ask that kind of information. He just left the keys and said to give this note to a man named Derek. Said someone would be by for the car eventually.” Visibly swallowing, he grabbed a thin piece of paper and held it toward Derek.
Derek snatched the paper, opened it, and as soon as he read it, he growled furiously before passing it to me.
Dad,
You’re a liar.
Your son,
Kit.
Panic was a luxury I couldn’t afford. We raced toward the airport without a second thought and as soon as we were inside, I scanned the departures board, my mind already calculating timelines. One tilt of my head had Derek stalking after me as we headed into the terminal. Kit might still be here.
I turned to Derek. “Sir, you search for him. See if you can find him. Hopefully, he hasn’t had the chance to go through security yet. I’ll try to get information from each airline desk.”
He squinted at me and nodded. Straightening, he buttoned his suit jacket, regaining his composure.
He left, and I went to the first airline desk.
I skipped the line, and when people began to complain, I pulled a fake FBI badge from inside my jacket.
Derek had perfect replicas made for a staggering price, and they came in handy.
The woman behind the counter stood straighter, her eyes fixed on the badge. Eager to help. Good. I held in my snort.
“I need info,” I growled. “A young man by the name of Christopher McIntyre got on a plane. I need to know if it was this airline.”
She nodded and pursed her lips in determination. Her blond eyebrows furrowed as she began typing on her keyboard. “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s no one in our system by that name.”
“Fuck.” I rubbed my forehead with the heel of my palm.
I gave her a short nod of thanks and moved on to the next airline.
By the time I came to the last one, I was beginning to feel the bite of frustration.
If none of them had heard of Kit, he must’ve somehow gotten onto a plane under a different name, one that wasn’t related to Kit or Christopher.
Derek came prowling toward me, his gait stiff and his posture furious.
He wanted to kill, and I didn’t blame him.
He raised a finger, gestured for me to follow, and stalked past. I did as he’d ordered, walking close behind him as he headed toward the security office.
He reached the door and thumped on it hard.
It took a few minutes, but finally, it opened, and a familiar face peeked out.
Ty Schwartz was one of the guys who owed Derek a big favor, and it seemed he was ready to pay up.
Ty was a gambler who spent every dollar he earned at the poker tables.
I'd forgotten he worked high-level security at the airport.
He waved us in and opened the door wider. Ty was short with a small, round belly from years of drinking. He was a fool who owed Derek, which made him useful. I didn’t blame his ex-wife for leaving.
He ran his hand through his short, gray-streaked brown hair with a cold, humorless laugh.
He’d often joked he’d won the genetic lottery that gave him early grays.
“Hey, Derek. Man, you chose the right day. My buddy’s on a long lunch, so I’m manning this alone for the next hour.
” He walked farther into the small office, and I took in the boring white walls and furniture.
It reminded me a little of a hospital room.
The only difference was that instead of a bed and bathroom, it had a wall full of computer screens, a desk below them, and a couple of office chairs.
“Here’s how you repay me, Ty. I want you to search for my son’s face.” Derek pulled out his wallet and dragged out a picture of Kit from behind a couple of his cards. He passed it to Ty.
“You got it.” Ty fell into one of the chairs, making it squeak.
He rolled forward and placed the photo on a scanner.
A few seconds later, Kit’s face appeared on one of the computer screens, and I stared at the beautiful, smiling face that looked back at us.
His thick eyebrows seemed almost too big for him, but they fit him perfectly.
His eyes were always squinty, but they held a story I wanted to read.
He had Derek’s chin and a long neck that made him look vulnerable.
A part of me wanted to own that vulnerability.
I snapped out of my fantasy and took a moment to center myself. I forced the thought away and turned my attention back to the screens.
“Let me see if I can get facial recognition. All this new software we’ve got is crazy.” Ty hummed as he uploaded Kit’s photo into the computer before the security system started scanning every face in the airport. “I’ve got the program searching today’s passengers. Trust me, it’ll find something.”
“It better,” Derek growled, straightening.
The sharp edges of panic flashed across his face.
In all the years I’d worked for him, I’d come to know him well.
His sons, Kit and Sky, were the only things that caused him anxiety.
As far as I knew, Derek had spies watching Sky wherever he went, but Kit had never planned to leave New Gothenburg—until now.
What had those messages said and who’d sent them?
I’d find out when Leland sent them through to Derek.
This city was safe for Kit. Few were brave enough to approach Derek’s sons and that was if they even knew about their existence.
Derek had kept Kit and Sky as secret as possible, which meant keeping them far from his criminal life.
Derek began to pace, and I watched him carefully. There was no point in stopping him. He wanted to kill someone. I didn’t blame him. My gut told me there was only one reason anyone would lure Kit from New Gothenburg—to get to him somewhere Derek couldn’t protect him.
My fingers curled and dug into my palms. I took a deep breath to center myself, then clasped my hands behind my back. I was a soldier. Given the order, I would murder for Derek. And Kit. Especially for Kit.
“There!” Ty pumped his arm in the air. It had only taken him fifteen minutes. “He got on a plane to . . . Shit.”
“Where?” Derek demanded, stalking up behind Ty and glaring over his shoulder. “Where does that plane go?”
Ty glanced up at Derek nervously. “Pleasant Beach. There are some dangerous dudes in that place. I used to live there a few years ago.”
Pleasant Beach. Derek and I both knew what that meant.
The city was a designated safe zone, run by an organization of assassins called The Society.
It was neutral ground, governed by killers with a strict code.
Break the rules, and they’d send a professional to collect.
Now, his son had run into their territory.
What the hell was going on?
Derek’s lips compressed, and he turned to me, eyes blazing. “War, I want you to bring him home.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir.”
I would get Kit back to New Gothenburg, and I’d do anything to succeeded at my mission.