JETMIR
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Anya lay asleep in my arms, her body molded against mine where she’d always belonged.
Beyond the open windows, the island basked beneath the late-afternoon sun.
The turquoise water shimmered, and a warm sea breeze carried the scent of salt and the sound of waves crashing against the island into our bedroom.
Waves rolled lazily toward the shoreline while cicadas droned in the trees.
The world was bright, peaceful, and almost perfect.
I’d spent the better part of the afternoon making love to her—three times, and I still hadn’t had enough.
After believing I’d lost her forever, every touch felt like a miracle.
I couldn’t help memorizing her every move, reassuring myself she truly loved me and this wasn’t another cruel dream waiting to dissolve when I woke.
My wife and I were finally finding our way back to each other.
Even now, the thought felt inconceivable.
Against every odd, and every impossible obstacle, the stars had somehow aligned and she’d given me another chance. She’d finally lowered the walls around her heart. My persistence had won out. She felt my love and I felt hers.
A quiet vibration disturbed the silence. It was my phone buzzing on the nightstand. Careful not to wake Anya, I reached over and picked it up.
There was a single message from my twin.
Elira: Gabriel got Mateo Agosti’s corneas. He’s out of surgery and recovering well. More updates to follow, but the surgeon is convinced it was successful.
A slow, relieved breath escaped my lungs.
Thank God.
It was a step in the right direction: fixing what I’d broken and keeping my promise to my wife. Because I’d meant it when I said I was going to set everything right.
Gabriel would see again. The years of darkness were over. Mateo Agosti’s death had brought something good into the world. It was the start of a new beginning.
Leaning down, I pressed a kiss to Anya’s forehead, brushing a loose strand of her silvery-blonde hair from her face.
“Wake up,” I murmured softly. “I have good news, my angel.”
Her eyelashes fluttered open. She stretched like a contented cat, letting out a tiny yawn as she looked up at me.
“How,” she asked, her voice still thick with sleep, “are you not exhausted?”
A laugh rumbled from my chest. “I’m actually ready for another round.”
She groaned dramatically. “No, not yet. My body needs more time to recover.”
“That’s not why I woke you,” I said with a grin.
“Thank God because—”
A sharp burst of shouting echoed across the property, its sound erupting through the open windows.
Anya froze. So did I.
The commotion pierced the island’s peaceful rhythm in an instant.
My smile vanished.
Every muscle in my body tightened. No one was supposed to be here. Fucking no one. Besides, I needed more time before Anya’s family found us.
What if it was the Triad? No, it couldn’t be. My luck couldn’t suck that bad. Fuck, fuck… Fuck!
A cold dread settled in my stomach as I slid out of bed and reached for my jeans. The whole time my mind whirled and I prayed…if someone found us, let it be Anya’s family.
“Stay here,” I said, already pulling on my pants. Black T-shirt, socks, and combat boots followed.
She sat upright. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
I reached for the gun and tucked it in the back of my pants.
Within seconds I was out the front door, sprinting down the narrow forest path that wound toward the beach. Branches whipped against my arms as I ran. Dry leaves crackled beneath my feet.
The shouting grew louder.
The voices were distant, but unmistakable. Men shouting. Orders being barked. Heavy boots pounding against the ground. Familiar words and voices registered just as I heard crunching gravel behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder. Damn it. Anya was right behind me.
“What?” she called between breaths. “I’m not staying behind and leaving you to face things alone.”
Even distressed and running barefoot, she was breathtaking.
Her pink dress fluttered around her legs with every stride, catching the sea breeze. The flush coloring her cheeks matched the soft fabric, and loose strands of blonde hair danced wildly around her face.
There wasn’t time to argue. Hell, there was no time to admire her beauty either.
By the time we burst through the trees, the idyllic beach had been transformed to something resembling a military disembarkation. There were men dressed in black swarming the sand and some halfway up the cliff steps.
They moved with terrifying precision, sweeping the area in coordinated formations. Tactical vests. Rifles. Earpieces. They didn’t look like Raphael’s men. These men looked like assassins.
Fuck, was it the Triad?
“Get back,” I shouted to Anya while my instincts screamed to take her away from here.
I had just started to turn around toward her when something slammed into the back of my neck.
White-hot pain exploded through my skull.
The world lurched violently as I crashed to my knees, rocks and sand grinding beneath them.
Before I could recover, powerful hands seized my arms and wrenched them behind my back hard enough to make my shoulders burn.
A knee drove between my shoulder blades, forcing the air from my lungs. I struggled, but the grip only tightened.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep away from my daughter?” a voice, thick with a Colombian accent and raw hatred, growled close to my ear. I was so fucking relieved it wasn’t the Triad that I laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
I raised my head and, standing over me—or rather on me—was Raphael Santos. My father-in-law.
His expression was carved from stone, his eyes blazing with fury and contempt.
“Thank God it’s you.”
Raphael didn’t think it was funny and he gritted, “I’m going to murder you, fucker.”
One knee remained planted firmly in the middle of my back, pinning me to the sand while the barrel of a pistol pressed against the base of my skull.
One squeeze of his finger and everything I’d fought to rebuild would end on this beach.