Chapter 23
Silas
I stare at my laptop and steeple my fingers in front of my face, watching the lines of code scroll across the screen. Em has a cyber wall larger than the Great Wall of China, and I still can’t find a crack to weasel through. An error pops up and then the screen goes black. Kicked out again. I slam my palms onto the table. “Fucking shit!”
Declan strolls into the kitchen with his phone between his shoulder and his ear. “We’ll be right there,” he clips and slides the phone into his pocket. “Where’s Hayden?”
“Fuck if I know,” I grumble and shut my laptop with more force than necessary. We are running out of time to finish this shit deal, and I know that the Irish will make good on their threats if we don’t deliver something.
Declan pulls out his phone and his thumbs glide across the screen. “We’re meeting O’leary. Hayden will meet us there. Let’s go.” He grabs the keys to the blacked-out Mustang and vanishes into the garage.
“Time to fuck some shit up,” I grumble under my breath and follow him out with my hands balled into fists.
We drive in silence for twenty minutes before the roar of a motorcycle cuts through the air. I glance out the window and roll my eyes as a blue and black motorcycle flashes by doing a wheelie. What an idiot. I bite my lip to hide my grin. But he’s our idiot. My eyes track him as he races forward and pulls into the lot before us.
Three men in black tactical uniforms approach the car as we climb out. One steps forward and looks us up and down. “Boss is in the back room. This way.” He turns on his heels and the three of them lead us into the large brick building.
I cut my eyes to Declan, who shrugs slightly because his accent was surprisingly American. As we walk through the building, I take stock of the broken glass and the boarded-up windows. The large room is mostly empty, except for a few partially torn apart cars sitting on blocks. They lead us through a set of metal double doors and down a dimly lit hallway. We stop in front of a black door with a frosted glass window. The leader of the goon squad knocks three short times and then slams his palm on the glass, causing it to rattle.
The door opens to reveal O’leary and two other burly men in uniform sitting around a table, drinking from steaming mugs of coffee. I pay them little attention as Declan begins to speak. My eyes are drawn to the large window along the back wall and the figure stalking from one wall to the other inside the small room. Her dark hair is swirling and twisting around her as she turns sharply on her heels every few steps.
My stomach drops to the floor, and I nearly collapse from the waves of sheer anger and panic that crash through me like a storm surge. I fight to keep my face neutral, but it’s a losing battle. I have always had a shit poker face. I cut my eyes to Hayden, who appears rooted to his spot on the floor. His eyes are hard as he stares straight ahead, and I watch his jaw shift as his teeth grind together.
Declan keeps his face neutral, only glancing in the window for a brief second before looking back at the men sitting at the table. “You keeping pets now?” he asks nonchalantly and slides into the chair across from the Irish mob boss.
O’leary smiles broadly. “I took the liberty of securing an asset,” he says slowly. “I saw an opportunity and I took it. You seemed to be getting nowhere with her.” His accusation is obvious.
All at once, my heart skips a beat, the breath freezes in my lungs, and my muscles turn to jello. I can’t keep the fear from my eyes as I stare at Emelia behind the glass. Hayden grabs my forearm and gives it a hard squeeze. I look at him and notice that he’s gone pale, but his eyes remain sharp and angry.
Declan merely shrugs and drums his fingers along the table. “She’s a little spastic, in case you hadn’t noticed.” I wince internally at his cool tone, wondering if that’s how he really feels about her. If he really doesn’t have any attachment to the situation. I level him with an appraising gaze, trying to see if the mask he wears is real or fake.
“She seems important enough,” one of the other men mutters and slurps from his steaming mug. “She’s in almost every meeting, and I’ve seen her with Em and the security detail plenty of times. She means something.”
Hayden clenches his jaw so hard I’m afraid his teeth will crack. “She’s their secretary, of course they have her on lockdown. Have you ever tried to function without a proper secretary?” His voice holds a sharp edge as he sits in the seat next to Declan. I remain standing because I can’t get my body to move from the spot I’m currently occupying.
“Well, then she should make excellent bait,” O’leary responds with a smile and claps his hands together. “We’ll put her on a plane this afternoon and make contact once she’s secure. I do, however, need security details for this.” He levels Declan with a look. “Seeing as we still don’t have any results from your team, do you think you could handle this?”
My skin prickles at the insult. “I’ll do it.” My voice doesn’t waver, and I’m surprised that I can keep it sounding so neutral. Declan and Hayden exchange glances. When Hayden opens his mouth to speak, I cut him off. “You have another job and Declan needs to see what kind of headway we can make with Em. I can escort them.”
Hayden’s eyes flash, and I see Declan nod once from the corner of my eye. “I’ll leave you my bike,” Hayden says in a dark tone. He stands and claps me on the shoulder. “Make sure you bring her back in one piece.”
I don’t miss the double meaning of his words. I fight the urge to flick my eyes to Emelia.
Declan and O’leary shake hands. “Always a pleasure, Mr. Kennedy,” O’leary sneers and dips his fingers into the pockets of his navy suit. “Do keep me updated on your… endeavors.”
Declan and Hayden give me a knowing look before stalking out the door. “So…” I begin and look back to the window. I can’t fight the pull inside me. I can’t keep my eyes off her for long, I’m afraid that she will disappear when I’m not staring at her. “To the airport?”
Emelia continues to stalk back and forth, her lips moving rapidly as she mutters to herself. Her hair falls over her shoulders in a tangled mess, and her face is pale with dark circles under her eyes. I look closer and my hands clench into fists. Her lip is split in two places, her left cheekbone is sporting a small cut, and her left eye is already bruising.
My blood turns to magma. They hit her.
The two men with O’leary stand and pick up a black canvas bag and some rope. “We’ll collect her and meet you out back,” the taller one instructs and they head into the hallway.
“Such a shame,” O’leary sighs quietly and claps me on the back once before following his men out.
I make my way through the building and stop beside Hayden’s bike. He left the helmet sitting on the seat for me. I slide it over my head and inhale deeply, the scent of him calming my jagged nerves. I still feel like I’m going to vomit, and my muscles are alternating between flaming pain and numbness. My mind is floating somewhere between extreme anger with violence and crippling panic.
A blacked-out sedan pulls up beside me as I kick the engine into gear. The driver’s window rolls down a few inches, and I see one of the security team. “Follow,” he orders gruffly and disappears behind the tinted window. I briefly consider just opening fire on the car, but of course the glass is bulletproof. What mafia king in their right mind would have breakable glass in their cars?
I rev my engine and pull out after the car, making sure to keep close to their tail. We take several winding roads out of the city until we stop at a nine-foot chain link fence with a single gate that is secured with a huge metal padlock.
One man emerges from the passenger seat and unlocks the gate. He narrows his eyes at me as he ducks back into the car. I call Declan from my Bluetooth as I drive forward, stirring up dust on the gravel road. “Airfield is about twelve miles outside the city. We took Lee Highway, right on Isaacs Road, and then left on Toosbury. Huge chain-link fence.” I spin my tires on the asphalt before following the car. “Left my mark outside.” My brother grunts a confirmation and hangs up.
The car slows when the gravel turns into smooth pavement and that’s when I see the plane. It’s a cargo plane with the rear panel open and four men with rifles flanking the ramp. I watch with despair as the car drives up the ramp and directly into the plane.
Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.
My mind starts racing, trying to process a scenario that would allow me to get into the plane before take-off. There’s no way. My heart shatters in my chest and I almost lose control of the bike as I slow to a stop a few feet from the group.
The two men in the sedan slam the doors and walk back down the ramp. “Keep watch. They have a few more things to load from the caravan.” One of them barks at me. I rev my engine in acknowledgment, and he turns and climbs into the driver’s seat of a red SUV parked beside the plane. Three men remove large crates from the trunk and place them behind the parked car in the plane before climbing into the SUV. That leaves two men left to guard Emelia.
I can do that. Two against one isn’t that bad.
The SUV pulls away and the window lowers as they pass me. “Job is done. Pilot is about to start the engines and taxi down the runway.”
“I’ll wait until it takes off. Just to be sure,” I say gruffly and flex my fingers around the handlebars. He just nods and drives away, kicking up gravel with the rear tires.
My eyes dart back to the plane as the engines rumble, and it starts to roll slowly forward. I watch the two guards secure some of the cargo and then disappear into a door, heading toward the nose of the plane. An idea pops into my head, and I groan loudly. “Fuck this is going to hurt.”
As the plane makes a turn onto the straight away and begins to gain speed, I rev my engine and lung forward. The front wheel pops off the ground, and I ride the wheelie until my tire reaches the edge of the ramp. The bike lurches forward and slides on the slick metal surface. I manage to jump and roll to the side as the bike slides and crashes into the wall. My back connects with a large crate and my helmet smacks the ground hard.
Yep. That fucking hurt.
I groan and shake my head, pushing myself to my feet as the plane shifts and takes to the air. The back ramp pulls up and latches with a mechanical hiss. “I can’t believe that fucking worked,” I mutter and limp to the sedan. I check all the doors, but they’re all locked. The windows are too tinted for me to see inside. I need the fucking key. I smack my palm against the glass and listen but hear nothing.
What if they sedated her and she is unconscious? What if they beat her again to get her in the car? What if she is bleeding out in the back of that car? What if she is already dead?
The questions tumble through my mind in rapid succession, and I can’t steady myself. I drop to my knees and hot tears burn my eyes. I draw in a ragged breath and brace my hands against the car door, willing her to make a sound. “Please, dear God, please don’t be dead,” I sob and hit the car door with my palms.
The plane makes a turn to the left, and I shift my body weight to keep from toppling over. The cargo hold is silent except for the occasional shift and groan of metal. I take a deep breath through my nose and get to my feet. I dial Declan before we get too high and I lose service. “I’m inside the plane. I can’t get into the car to get her, but she’s not making any noise. We’re heading west.”
“Find a chute first,” he instructs quickly. “You… Her… Out… Ground… Now…” The static crackles in my ear as the signal goes out and the call fails. My eyes scan the walls until I see a few parachutes hanging from hooks. I look back at the car and an unbidden image of Emelia comes to mind.
She’s laying on her back with her dark hair splayed out beneath her. Her eyes are closed and her pale face is flecked with crimson. Her plump lips are tinted blue and stained red with blood. She’s too still, not even her chest is rising. Blood pools beneath her, trickling from stab wounds along her chest and abdomen.
My already broken heart fractures again, and I feel a piece of my soul shrivel at the thought of Emelia. Cold. Dead. Alone. I fish the guns out of the seat compartment on the bike and make sure the magazines are loaded. I stalk quietly through the door and head out to find someone to use for target practice. I make it all the way to the cockpit without seeing anyone. My hand shakes slightly as I grip the guns and square my shoulders.
My boot kicks the door in, and I point the barrels in either direction as I step inside. My eyes scan the empty seats to the right before narrowing on the pilot in the chair on the right. His eyes are wide and his palms are raised in surrender. “Key,” I snap and point both guns at him.
“I… I don’t have it. I was only instructed to get the bird in the air,” he stammers and licks his lips nervously. His eyes dart all around, searching for something to use against me.
“Well now you have orders to put this fucking bird back on the ground.” I take another step and press the barrel directly against his forehead. “Now.”
“I’m afraid he can’t do that,” a voice from behind me says.
I turn and assess the man in the custom Italian suit standing in the doorway with a Glock hanging loosely from his palm. “The fuck he can’t,” I snap and point the other barrel at him.
He chuckles. “You don’t have the stomach for murder, Silas Kennedy. Always the man of knowledge. Never the man of action.”
I take a deep breath, fighting to keep my hands from trembling and pull the trigger without a second thought. The bullet goes wide and lodges in the wall a few inches from his head. Shit.
His eyes widen, and he moves his arm to raise his gun, but I pull the trigger four more times. In theory, one of those rounds should make contact. It’s science. The pilot shouts and covers his ears with his hands as one of my bullets flies wide. The Italian suit drops to his knees with blood bubbling from his lips. I hit him in the chest three of the four times.
He smiles, his teeth stained crimson, and coughs. “A life for a life,” he wheezes and pulls a small remote from his inner breast pocket. The pilot starts to sob and speak rapidly in a language that I can’t translate at this moment in time.
My eyes widen, and I lunge for him, but his thumb presses a button as he slumps to the side, his eyes dull and lifeless. I let out a string of curses that would make any trucker proud and bolt back to the cargo hold. The plane jerks violently as we fly through turbulence, and I rifle through duffel bag after duffel bag until I find what I’m looking for. I shoulder on one of the parachutes and start ripping off pieces of duct tape, placing them in a pattern on the driver’s side window of the car.
Once there is enough on the window, I use another piece woven through the pattern to wrench the window down a few inches. I can’t see inside, but it’s enough to get my fingers around the top to force it down. I get it halfway down before the plane jolts and rocks with an explosion. Alarms start sounding and the plane tips violently to the left.
That bastard blew an engine. Another string of curses flies from my lips as I pry the window down a little more until I can grab the handle. I exhale a sigh of relief as the door opens and reveals the backseat.
The empty backseat.
My brain stutters for a moment, and I just stand there, blinking at the empty seats. “Trunk,” I whisper and run to the back of the car and jerk open the trunk.
Empty.
Another explosion rips through the aircraft, sending the plane lurching forward as it starts a nose dive. The other engine is gone. The sound of metal grinding fills the air as the plane twists in the air, basically free-falling from an altitude of God fucking knows what. I push myself forward, fighting the gravity that is pressing down on me, and try to pry open the emergency door. The alarms continue to shriek, and the lights flicker and flash.
The reality of the situation crashes down on me. This was a trap. This was them acting out the threat that they promised. This was our payment for our failure.
I lean against the door as every emotion I’ve ever felt weighs down on me. It feels like a giant hole has been ripped through my stomach. I close my eyes and sob loudly as I let memories flash across my mind. Hayden. Declan. Emelia. My dogs when I was growing up. My graduation from MIT. My first kiss with Hayden. The first time I sank into Emelia. When I learned how to hack into the White House mainframe.
I let them all play freely in my mind on repeat. My happy moments. The moments when I lived life to the fullest. The moments with the people that I love.
The people I love.
If I am going down with this plane, at least the people that I love are not on it. They are somewhere on the ground. Declan and Hayden are safe. They will be able to find Emelia and do what I couldn’t. I take a deep breath and thump my helmet against the metal wall, another sob catches in my throat.
The plane jerks to the left and then to the right, metal groaning as the wind rips it to pieces. I close my eyes and wait for the impact. If I am going to die, at least I am going to die knowing that my family is still alive and safe. And that is okay by me.