Minka #2
“I don’t know, Arch!” Felix hands his brother a gun so fast, so smoothly, no one on the outside could have possibly seen it disappear into the back of his jeans. “I was enjoying my morning of coffee and Christabelle when that fucking ballerina called and said shit was going down.”
“What shit?”
“I don’t know! She said you were unsafe and that they were getting in their cars and heading across to meet you.”
“Sophia’s on her way?” My heart thrums at a heady pace, and my eyes go to the runway. Though, duh, she’s not driving onto that. “She brought us here. She didn’t mention danger.”
“She’s not on her way ,” Felix snarls. “She’s here!”
“You just said?—”
“She sent you into this fucking war and thinks she can arrive a day after you hit the front lines? No fucking chance.” He points back toward the terminal windows.
“We swung by and picked her and her men up on the way past. That’s how I keep my family safe.
I bring the asshole with the matches into the fire. ”
“So where is she now?” Tim holds Aubree close, half hidden behind his broad back. “We just saw your plane leave.”
“Plane had to go. Because it was an unscheduled trip or some shit, she said it was drawing too much heat. I’ll call it back when we’re ready to leave.”
“And Sophia?” I ask. “Where is she now?”
“Out the front organizing a ride. She had her men unload the plane and bring it all around front.”
“Unload what?” Archer snarls. “What’d she bring?”
“Guns, Arch! I don’t know. A fucking missile launcher, maybe. She had crates loaded up during our stopover, then they were off again, and now she’s barking orders to her soldiers to transfer things carefully.”
Tim growls. “So Mayet takes a call and accepts a case, on Solomon’s word, gets on a plane to no-fucking-where, no questions asked.
Then you,” he looks to Felix, “also take a call from Solomon, accept her word that something’s going down, lend her the family plane to transport fuck-knows-what across the country—no paperwork, no official records—and now she’s nowhere to be found? ”
I squint and stare through the glass walls, narrowing my eyes at my new view when Micah shifts to the left. “Christabelle is here?” I step away from Archer and start toward the terminal. “You brought Christabelle?”
“She wouldn’t stay behind!” Felix turns on a dime and runs to catch up, his long stride making it easy, and his broad shoulder touching mine as he matches my pace.
“Mayet, she’s eight months along and scaring the shit out of me.
She refused to stay in New York, and I couldn’t just ignore what Sophia was telling me. ”
“She said your family was in danger. She pressed your buttons, knowing the outcome she’d get.”
“I think Christabelle is gonna have that baby soon,” he groans. “She’s in pain but won’t admit it. I think the flight made it worse.”
“There’s absolutely no evidence that air travel harms pregnancy in any way.
If she’s in pain, it’s probably because of the stress of a cross-country dash at the last-minute.
” I yank the terminal door open and step out of the heat and into cool air, then I brush past a stony-faced Micah and stop in front of Christabelle. “Are you having your baby?”
She slouches on the chair and drops her head back. “I’m not having my baby.”
I lay one hand on her belly and take her wrist with the other so I can feel her pulse. “Are you having contractions?”
“No.”
“Felt the baby move in the last hour?”
She tears her hand free of mine and uses the armrests to push to her feet.
“Yes. The baby is literally moving right now. I’m not in labor, and I’m not having contractions.
I’m eight months pregnant with a giant freakin baby, and it’s summer.
” She waddles toward the vending machine tucked into the dark corner of the smallest airport I’ve ever seen in my life, and pressing the buttons—pressing them again—then again—she glances back with puppy dog eyes.
“I want juice, but I forgot I need money.”
“I’ve got it.” Cato walks her way, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and slinging his arm over her shoulders when he’s close enough. Because he can. Because he’s obsessed with loving her.
They’re family, after all.
“Let her have the juice,” I decide. “Let her have whatever the hell she wants while that baby drains her of everything she has. Is she drinking enough water?”
Felix jams his hands into his pockets and settles onto the backs of his heels. Relaxing, perhaps for the first time today. “Yeah. She’s been drinking and peeing a lot. She ate on the plane and slept all night last night. You think she’s okay?”
“If she says she’s okay, I’m inclined to believe her.” I look at Micah. “What do you know about all this bullshit?”
“Christabelle? She said she’s not in pain.”
“No. Sophia!” I gesture around the mostly empty room. “I don’t see her. She said she’d have a driver pick us up once we arrived. But she’s not?—”
Da-do-do-doo-doo! Da-do-do-doo-doo!
A massive bus rolls to a stop outside the terminal in the taxi lane, gleaming black and silver exterior, glittering chrome wheels, tinted black windows, and a space-ship elegance that screams this cost a lot of money .
“No way is that our ride.” Fletch grips his phone in one hand and strides to the airport’s front doors.
This is nothing like the kind we find in New York or even Copeland.
Here, we have to open the doors ourselves, and there’s just one desk for check-ins.
No luggage carousel, just a little golf cart zipping around outside, and the other passengers lining up to collect their things.
It’s a farce of an airport. It’s a LEGO-style airport, where surely this is all game-play and not real life.
Fletch steps outside just as the bus door slides open—spaceship smooth—and Sophia moves down the three stairs and waves us closer.
“Seriously?” Christabelle wanders back with her juice in hand and perfect hair despite the heat.
Perfect brows, too. She’s one of those people who always looks good, even when they have a human-sized pest sucking the life from them.
“She said she was getting our ride. I didn’t expect it to be a bus, though. ”
“Without it, we’d need five cars and a convoy,” Micah counters. “A bus is smart… if you ignore how fucking conspicuous it makes us.”
“Five cars?” Tim rumbles. Then he looks around our grouping, counting heads. “Sophia makes ten of us. That’s two cars.”
“She brought a whole army. I bet that bus has air-conditioning.” Christabelle takes Cato’s hand and lets him walk her toward the doors. Outside. Then, all the way to the bus.
“What army?” I look from Micah to Felix. To Tim. And then to Archer. “Who did she bring?”
“Fuck’s sake.” Felix takes off like a shot, snatching his suit jacket from the seat Christabelle was sitting on, and dashes out the doors. “Darling! You’ve gotta wait for the rest of us.”
“Why do I feel like we’ve landed in a fucking trap?
” Archer grabs our bag again, then my arm, and starting toward the doors, he brings us through and slows to stare at Sophia.
“Explain yourself, Asa. Because you told us this was just a case, but you told him ,” he points at Felix, “we’re in danger. Which is it?”
“Why can’t it be both? Life is inherently dangerous, no?”
Tim’s lips peel back into a feral sneer. “Cut the shit, Solomon. What the fuck are you doing?”
She shrugs. “I needed a ride, and I didn’t want to drive all the way here.”
“So you lied to us?” Micah shoves to the front of our grouping, slowing only when the muscled, tatted monster Soph married exits the bus and gently wraps his palm around the front of her neck.
Possession. Protection. He’s not taking charge yet, but he will if he has to.
“All this so you could hitch a ride and transport illegal shit across the country?”
“Not illegal shit. Supplies. But the rest of it?” Her lips curl into a smug grin. “Yeah. That was a lie. I knew Felix would jump if I hinted that his bro-thangs were in danger.”
“But you didn’t fucking hint !” Felix snaps. “You said, point blank, they needed help. You said they were stepping into a war, and their lives were at stake.”
“And it’s entirely wholesome that you moved as quickly as you did.” She meets my eyes. Then Aubree’s. “I appreciate you coming, doctors. If you’d like to step on board, I’ll get you settled in and briefed on our case.”
“No.” Micah shoots his hand back, stop-signing me before I walk chest-first into his palm.
“We don’t work with liars. There’s a certain level of trust needed in our world, Solomon, and you’ve blown your credibility with one fucking stunt.
All for a free ride?” He shakes his head.
“You could’ve just asked for the ride and said you were coming to Mayet. We still would have helped.”
She firms her lips. “Really?”
“Probably. We have history, and I’m not oblivious to the times you’ve stepped up and followed through to our aid.”
“You mean the time I got your doctors inside Pastore’s house to save your ass? Or the time I had drones fly over the bank your beloved Chief Mayet was stuck inside?” Then she looks at Fletch. “Or the time I took care of your friend at your ex-wife’s funeral?”
“You think you’re making a point.” I drop Archer’s hand and make my way around Micah. “But you’re actually making his. You’ve helped us, we’ve helped you. If you wanted a ride, you probably just needed to call and ask. Or, ya know…” I roll my eyes. “Booked a commercial flight like a normal person.”
“Can’t fly commercial when you’re transporting a fucking armory,” Felix sneers. “Why transport all those guns if you’re not heading into war?”
“Why ask such hairy questions so near CCTV cameras?” the guy behind her, Jay, counters. He lifts his chin, gesturing toward the cameras under the eaves of the airport terminal. “Get on the bus, and we’ll explain what’s going on.”