Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
CASEY
M inutes crawled by like ice thawing as I sped down the road, taking random turns to throw anyone following off my trail. My gut told me they’d been too far behind to see me take the exit, but I wasn’t taking a chance. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about these guys, and the fact that only two men had rounded the building to shoot at us as we left only further solidified that thought.
Angie sat next to me, her knee bouncing, her hands so tight on her seatbelt that I worried it would snap.
“What are we doing?” she asked, her words coming out between shivers.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. I really didn’t know. There were a hundred possible scenarios ahead of us and only one held a positive outcome—me making it to the hangar before the bad guys. But that was irrational because they’d left ahead of us.
Scratching my arm, I continued to stare at the road, taking a sharp left turn and throwing Angie’s body into the door.
“Dammit, Casey. I’m bruised enough.”
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel to stave off some of my nerves. “Sorry, but I’m running out of time.”
She was quiet for about a mile until she said, “Do you think Tony is dead? And my father?”
I looked over at her, seeing her as I never had before: vulnerable and scared. Two things Angela Donelli would deny if ever questioned about.
“No, Tony’s tough. If anybody can survive this, he can.” But I wasn’t sure because Tony didn’t have any interest in learning the ropes of the business. I didn’t even know if he knew how to shoot the guns he carried. “And your father won’t go down without a fight. I’m sure that guy was just trying to get to you.”
“Okay,” she muttered, looking back out the window and gripping the seatbelt tighter.
Silence filled the remainder of the drive and as I rounded the corner to the small airport, I pulled to the side of the control tower. The airport was a local one, for private companies and the few people with enough money to afford a private jet and the hangar rental fees. I’d been here a few times to see Tyson off and, of course, the day I returned to Armina. Mason’s hangar was the second to the last. It wasn’t far, but just as we got out of the car, a plane descended. Mason’s.
I thought through my options: driving out to the runway or running after the plane as it taxied. Driving out seemed to make more sense, and as the plane touched down, I yelled for Angie to get back into the truck.
She shook her head, and I was about to shoot her for being stubborn about sitting in the dirty truck when she pointed behind me. A quick turn of my head and I spotted movement at the end of the row of hangars. The Omens were here, and they were ready to attack. I chewed the inside of my cheek as the plane taxied past us, oblivious to the danger that lay in wait for its passengers. Grabbing the guns from the car, I tucked one in the back of my skirt and threw the other to Angie, who fumbled and dropped it.
Cursing her, I ran to her side of the truck and picked it up, regretting that the safety was on and a bullet hadn’t taken her off my hands.
If only I had my phone. I could have called them and warned them, but I didn’t and all I could do was pray they had their defenses up when they parked. The plane was too far down the runway now, turning toward the other side of the hangars.
Taking Angie by the shoulders, I forced her to look at me. She was shaking, her facade of the put together mafia daughter cracked.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to skirt the edge of the tower and make our way to the end of the hangar where Mason’s plane is going. You will follow me and keep your mouth shut. Understand.”
She nodded, her eyes darting nervously around.
“You’re a bitch, Angie. Remember that and act like one.”
Releasing her, I ran, knowing my time was short. The plane was likely at the hangar now. Dashing around the tower, I thanked Angie’s fashion sense and her manipulating pestering to get me to follow it. She’d insisted that sneakers were this week’s fashion trend, buying us each a pair and making me put them on before we’d left the store. The pink and purple pair with the glittering white rhinestones that I’d vowed to burn when I got home were currently protecting my feet with each step I ran. The bags with all our other purchases were likely blood splattered and still lying on the coffee shop floor along with the heels she’d insisted I change out of and replace with the sneaks.
There was no sign of the Omens as we ran across the open airstrip, my heart thumping, adrenaline overtaking the fear that was threatening to send me to my knees. I ducked and moved to the corner of the hangar, peeking my head around. An Omen was at the opposite corner, squatting down like we currently were, his attention toward where I imagined the plane had parked. But I couldn’t tell how many more there were or where they were.
I really didn’t know what I was going to do. If I shot him, it would draw the attention of the other Omen. I needed a distraction to bring him to us and away from the others, but I didn’t think Angie’s breasts would cut it this time.
“Get back and stay down,” I told Angie.
With my gun drawn, I ran toward the guy, muttering, “This is reckless, Case.”
As if on cue, my foot hit a loose rock, and my ankle turned, sending me sprawling, and my gun flying from my hands. I cursed myself, thinking I looked just like one of those weak damsels in distress I always made fun of in movies. Tyson would have ripped me a new one if he’d seen how clumsy and stupid I’d been.
I watched my gun slide to a stop at the feet of the man who had once had his back to me. Lifting my head, I met the steely eyes of the guy from the construction site—the spit eater.
“What the fuck?” He closed the gap between us before I could move. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked, gun pointed at me.
“I missed you,” I said as innocently as I could.
My heart thudded when he stepped over me, his feet on either side of my back. Stooping down, he yanked my head up by the hair and brought his gun to my temple. “Get the fuck off the ground, stupid cunt.”
“I don’t like that word,” I complained, trying not to scream from the pain in my scalp.
He pressed his knee into my spine, and my scream almost escaped, but the sound of a thick thud stopped it. His grip on my hair released right before another thud accompanied the squishing sound of broken flesh and bone, and his gun dropped. I grabbed it and turned just in time for his body to collapse on top of mine. Blood splattered with each downward fall of the brick Angie held.
“Angie, he’s dead.” I hissed from under his torso, praying she’d stop before she hit me.
The brick paused its motion, and I rolled his body over, trying not to look at the collapsed mess of brain and skull his head now was.
“That’s impressive,” I said, taking the brick from her. “And terrifying.”
Splattered blood covered her, and she looked to be in a state of shock. But I couldn’t worry about her mental state, not with my men in danger.
“Stay here,” I said, running over to the gun she’d dropped in exchange for the brick. A random pile of bricks sat next to it, and I didn’t bother questioning why they were there. I was just happy they had been, and that Angie had the nerve to use one.
I jogged back over to her. My knees had taken the brunt of my fall and were aching from the impact. I was certain bruises would form soon.
Handing the gun to Angie, I noted how it shook in her hand. “Remember who you are, Angie. You’re the daughter of Vince Donelli, and you just pulverized a man.”
“Yeah,” she murmured, the glaze on her eyes fading. “That’s what he gets for being mean to me.”
I would have laughed, but the sound of gunshots erupted. Turning, I ran, leaving her there and knowing my time was up. Rounding the corner, I shot a guy heading toward the hangar door in the head. He collapsed as I spotted two others who had been running toward the hangar but had stopped short with my involvement. My shot tore through the neck of the first guy and, as the other aimed at me, I rolled to the ground, getting two rounds off. The second one hit him in his chest and knocked him over.
“That was a bad move, you stupid cunt.” I looked up to find a gun pointed down at me. I’d been reckless once again. This time not checking my surroundings and assuming all the men were heading into the hangar to join the fight. This one looked like the type to play with his prey, a fact he validated by grabbing me by the neck and hoisting me up.
“I really don’t like that word,” I muttered, wondering if these guys had any other words in their vocabulary.
“Drop the fucking gun or I’ll kill you now.”
“And if I drop it?”
“I’ll have some fun with you first and then kill you.”
“Don’t you need to join your buddies in there?” I asked, stalling and hoping he would slip and remove the gun from my head.
“They’ve got it covered. Besides, I prefer to be a lone wolf, and you look like a delicious meal.”
Lone wolf? That didn’t make me feel any better. Bad Omen were dangerous, but one who turned his back on his family had to be homicidal because they had a reputation for what they did to traitors that stemmed all the way back to the turf wars.
I dropped the gun, my mind whirring through my options as he turned and dragged me by the neck away from the hangar. Guns were still going, but the volume of shots had decreased, and I prayed that meant my guys were winning.
My fingers were struggling to free my neck from the strangling grip he had on it when a shot cracked through my frantic thoughts and he stumbled, his hand slipping. I broke free as he swiveled around, trying to raise his gun. Blood seeped from the hole in his back where a bullet had pierced it. And tucked in his waistband was another gun. Sloppy but fortuitous. I grabbed it and shot before he could react. His body jerked, but he looked like he wanted to turn around and so I put another two rounds into him. He slumped to the ground, his gun hitting it before his body did.
Gun in her shaking hand, Angie stood across from me, no longer looking as fragile or as psychotic. She dropped the gun, looking down at her hands just as the gunfire ceased. My chest clenched so tight with fear that I didn’t know if I could function well enough to make it to the hangar door.
Nodding at Angie, I forced myself to run, coming up short at the open door and closing my eyes to steady myself before I allowed myself to look in, the vision of seeing my brother or Mason dead so vivid in my mind that it threatened to swallow me whole.