88. CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
“I’m screeching this thing to a halt. You all get out,” Taryn says, looking at us in the rearview.
We stop so violently that Jillian and I nearly fly into the front seat of the unmarked police cruiser.
“Go!” Taryn yells.
Shane hops out and I jump out, too. But I go numb seeing that Jillian got out on her side and didn’t follow me.
Every fucking second counts.
Pop pop pop.
Bullets sound off, and I duck. “Jillian!”
I toss my duffle to Shane. “Get on that fucking plane.”
The jet is literally moving toward the runway with the airstairs down.
Griffin Quinlan, looking horrified, stands at the open door, ready to haul us all in. “Come on!”
Good thing he’s big like me.
I round the car, grab Jillian, and we run for the plane.
“Police!” Taryn hollers to the SUVs barreling his way, waving his badge.
That doesn’t stop the bullets.
Fuck, they’re going to kill him.
We reach the airstairs, and I lift Jillian up. “Take her.”
Griffin grabs her and hauls her into the plane.
“Taryn!” I yell. “Get on this fucking plane right now!”
He spins around and runs, but we’re really moving now. I hop onto the stairs and hold out my hand.
The SUVs speed toward us, firing indiscriminately like they have nothing to lose.
Fuck, they’re gonna hit the fuselage and blow up the damn plane.
Taryn’s hand wraps on the metal banister as he’s running, but a bullet shatters the whole thing right the fuck off.
“Griffin, hold me,” I shout over my shoulder.
When his brawny hands wrap around my arm, I reach forward and lift Taryn onto the step.
“I guess I’ll be working for you sooner rather than later.” Taryn quips, getting his feet under him. “Is there Wi-Fi on this thing so I can call in to get my retirement papers?”
I just smile wryly, waiting for a bullet to hit me in the chest, or the head.
We rush up the stairs, and as soon as we’re inside, Shane’s there to help me retract the steps and secure the door.
“They’re in. They’re in!” Griffin screams to the pilot. “Get us in the fucking air!”
This captain is going to demand Kieran give him a massive raise. I’ll pay his yearly salary myself if we make it.
I find Jillian crouched down in the seat. She’s shaking and will have PTSD from this day. For me, it’s just a Thursday, but I’ll be there to help her heal.
She’s mine.
I lift her up to bring her toward the back of the plane and sit her on a sofa. “We’re fine. We made it.”
I cradle her head as she cries into my chest.
It’s a few tense moments when I see the SUVs come up alongside us until…
Lights and sirens appear from the opposite direction.
Taryn is in the cockpit talking on a radio. I guess he’s using his last pull as a Las Vegas detective to order the tower to clear us for take-off.
“Balor’s on the line, ready to intervene at the tower,” Shane says, shoving in an earbud from a few rows away.
A minute later, we’re in the air.
We made it.
We made it.
But those were Cosa Nostra soldiers, not paid mercenaries.
And their don will be on the next plane to Astoria…