Chapter 13 #2
That job was assigned to August and Ricardo.
Elodie had grudgingly agreed to allow her private jet to be flown to Northwest Arkansas National Airport.
The passenger manifest wouldn’t be publicly available, but the jet going to the nearest airport to Goshen would be enough to signal that August and Ricardo were on their way to create havoc on a soybean farm.
Meanwhile, they would be flying commercially under assumed names.
That was where things could go awry. Not because anyone would recognize them. Not because airport security would see through their airtight credentials. Not because of anything external, really.
“It’s just one flight,” Ricardo gently explained to his ruffled husband as they drank their coffee in Elodie’s kitchen. “Well, two, since we have a connection, but—”
“You couldn’t even spring for Economy Plus?” August flailed his hand, nearly dumping his coffee all over his sister. “Seriously?” He glared at Ricardo. “This is because I threatened not to put out last night, isn’t it?”
Ricardo shrugged.
“Oh, fuck you.” August huffed. “I tease you one time, and now you’re going to shoehorn me into coach.”
“I mostly did it to keep our cover,” Ricardo said, not even fighting the grin. “But now that you mention it, you did kind of deserve it.”
“Ugh, you are the worst.”
Yeah, maybe. But it was hilarious, and Ricardo wasn’t sorry.
“Well, shit.” August dropped into a chair in their hotel room three days after they arrived in Dallas. “That was… That was almost too easy.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Ricardo eased into one of the other chairs and plucked the room service menu off the table. “We just didn’t have someone throwing a monkey wrench in at every turn.”
August grunted, staring out of the window at the city’s skyline.
The job had seemed exceptionally easy even without them expecting NightRaven to sabotage them.
Probably because this was a low-skilled target who knew how to elude his ex-wife, but not a couple of trained assassins.
In the end, they hadn’t even taken him out; their primary objective had been getting the kids away from him and back to their mother, ideally without traumatizing them.
While Ricardo had cornered Father of the Year in the garage, August had gently coaxed the kids out of the house using some coded phrases from their mother.
She’d taught them never to go with anyone unless they used specific phrases to signal Mom knew them, and August had taken it a step further by FaceTiming their mother so they knew for sure they weren’t being manipulated.
Once August had left with the kids, en route to the airport where an aunt was waiting to return them to S?o Paulo, Ricardo had finished with Dad.
No bullet. No cut throat. The client had specifically said she really didn’t want him killed unless that was absolutely necessary to rescue the kids.
She was open to it, which was why she’d gone with RateYourHit, but she wasn’t bloodthirsty.
Turned out, he hadn’t needed to die. Instead, Ricardo had turned him over to the U.S.
Marshals, who would be handing him over to Interpol.
Apparently kidnapping his own children was only the most recent in a very long list of bad behavior, and he was wanted in four different countries for cyberterrorism.
Which country got to charge him first and where he ended up being incarcerated—that wasn’t Ricardo’s problem.
The asshole wouldn’t be bothering his ex-wife or children ever again.
Decompressing in the hotel room now, Ricardo shuddered to imagine what would’ve happened to the kids or their stepfather if NightRaven had been able to derail the job.
Ricardo skimmed over the room service menu again, but nothing sounded appetizing. He was usually starving after a job, but his stomach was tied up in too many knots this time. He handed the menu to August, who seemed equally disinterested in food.
With a sigh, Ricardo sat back in the chair. “So we know he’s getting his intel through RateYourHit.”
August put the menu on the table between them. “Which means he’s probably caught on by now that he got duped.”
“Probably.” Ricardo drummed his nails on the table. He had no idea what their next move should be.
August shifted in his chair. “Maybe we need to take another job—as ourselves—but be more conspicuous about it.”
Ricardo raised his eyebrows.
His husband continued, “Take the private jet. Show our faces. Message Heidi through the app and ask her for clarification on some details. Like, we found the location, but we’re not sure if it’s the right address because the description doesn’t match.
” He waved a hand. “Anyway, just make it really obvious that we’re definitely there.
But instead of focusing on the job, we lay a trap for NightPigeon. ”
“A trap?”
“Yeah. We could…” August shrugged. “I don’t know yet. We’ll think of something. Maybe go through the motions like we’re enacting some kind of elaborate plan, but really, we’re watching for him so he’ll walk right into it.”
Nodding along, Ricardo murmured, “Good idea. We’ll have to make a more convincing fake job this time. I suspect after the one in Arkansas, he’s going to be checking every detail to make sure he’s not chasing ghosts again.”
August gave an entitled huff. “Ugh. Most criminals are stupid. How did we get saddled with a smart one?”
Ricardo chuckled. “I think you’d be affronted if he was stupid.”
“Hmm, probably. But I also would’ve figured him out, yeeted him off a cliff, and moved on with my life by now.”
“Just think how satisfying it’ll be when we get to do that to someone we actually had to outsmart.”
August rolled his eyes and groaned. “Fuck satisfying. I just want him gone.”
Ricardo grunted. He couldn’t really disagree.
And now that they had something in the neighborhood of a plan, his appetite was creeping back in, so he picked up the menu again. “We should order food.”
“We should.” August groaned theatrically and pushed himself to his feet. “I’m disgusting. I’m going to get a shower.” He glanced at Ricardo. “Could you order me the steak?”
Ricardo nodded.
August started toward the bathroom but halted, and he stabbed a finger at Ricardo. “And don’t you dare order the salmon.”
“What? Why not?”
“Ugh, because then the whole room will stink.” August wrinkled his nose. “I am not sleeping in a room that smells like fish.”
Ricardo just laughed as August continued toward the bathroom.
Then he called down to the kitchen to order room service.
“Hello, I’d like the steak. Medium rare.” He paused, fighting the grin out of his voice. “And could I also get the salmon, please?”