Chapter 9 Lark
CHAPTER NINE
LARK
Noah returned my gun.
I thought it was a trick. Because it had to be a trick.
Yet I couldn’t figure out the catch.
The bullets were still in place. The trigger mechanism appeared to work. Everything was normal. Exactly as it had always been.
And all he said when he handed it back to me was “Keep it close, Aurora. If we do something that makes you want to shoot us, then do it. Because if we scare you, we deserve to be shot.”
With those words, he left and returned with cleaning supplies to mop up the coffee and sweep up the broken shards from the shattered cup. He also attempted to wipe off my boot, which I threw at the door earlier when I realized Johan was taunting me with his hack on my phone.
After setting the boot aside, Noah finished cleaning up my mess and said, “Rule number four should be us ensuring you can handle rule number three.”
Then he winked and disappeared.
And shortly after that, my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. The locks on the doors work. Use them if you need to. We won’t disturb you until we land. Sweet dreams, little black hat. xx Johan
I responded with another middle-finger emoji.
Then the bastard replied with a black heart and a top hat.
I snorted at it. And I definitely didn’t smile. Not at all. Not even a twitch of my lips.
Because I hate him. I hate Noah. And I loathe Lazarus Ferraro.
They might smell like a sensual bookshop stocked with a myriad of books written to fulfill every one of my fantasies, but that doesn’t mean I want them.
No.
Definitely not.
Which is why I took a very cold shower. Somehow there was still steam coming off my skin. Or, well, it seemed that way. Because I was basically simmering by the time I finished.
Then I couldn’t fathom putting on my jeans again because everything felt too sensitive to the touch. Unsure of where my bag ended up on the plane, I started opening drawers to search for something else.
And found a collection of women’s clothes.
That’s when I picked up my phone again and shot off another message to Johan. Do these outfits belong to one of Lazarus’s mistresses? Or is she your whore, too?
Okay, so that was a bit harsh. I don’t typically refer to anyone with language like that. But I was furious to find evidence of whoever was on this jet before me.
However, that fury vanished when Johan replied, Check the sizes, little hacker. And the brands.
Frowning, I set my phone down and found that everything in the drawer was my size. Plus, the brands, as he mentioned, were some of my favorites.
You’ve been our obsession for years, Lark. There’s no one else. Just you.
Those words scrolled across the screen as I put on a pair of black stretchy pants and a tank top.
And they’re the last ones I’ve received from Johan.
True to his word, none of the men “bothered” me for the rest of the flight.
At some point, I clearly fell asleep, but the tilting of the plane stirred me on the bed, the landing gears loud all around me. I woke with a start, only to find myself still blissfully alone. The gun tucked beneath a pillow with my phone—right where I left them. And the door still locked.
Now that the wheels are on the ground, I’m waiting for the inevitable.
The jet stopped moving about ten minutes ago. So any second now, there’s going to be a knock. Or maybe just the click of a key.
Because I have no doubt those three alphas know how to get in here. That lock is flimsy enough that even I could pick it.
However, nothing happens.
All the windows are closed, so I can’t peek outside.
And everything is silent on the other side of the door.
I sit up slowly, swallowing.
What’s happening? I don’t like the quiet. It’s ominous. It reminds me of my childhood. The calm before the storm.
The Bianchi estate was never silent. Not unless something nefarious was happening outside. An attack of some kind.
Is Dad here? I wonder. Have his people surrounded the jet?
That would be just like my father, waiting until we landed to take Lazarus by surprise.
My stomach twists with the notion. Because Dad won’t hesitate to give a kill order. Fellow don or not, Lazarus kidnapped a Bianchi. That’s punishable by death. I warned Lazarus. I told him what would happen.
So why am I suddenly nervous? I think. Why do I even care?
Lazarus might be my scent match. But we are not going to be together. Ever.
Only… only, I don’t really want him to die. I mean, he’s not a good man. He’s a notorious killer. Ruthless. Violent.
Yet rule number two implies consent. I frown. And everything he’s done thus far is… not at all what I expect from the don of the Ferraro Mafia.
I stole money from him. A lot of money. I know what happens to hackers in my position. However, all he’s really done is kidnap me.
And force me to watch an erotic show between him and Johan.
Except, he didn’t actually force me to watch anything. I chose to stand there while they deep-throated each other.
My thighs clench with the memory, a fresh wave of brown sugar and honey teasing my nose. It mingles with the other scents in the jet, creating a decadent bookstore cafe of aromas that have me falling back onto the bed with a groan.
Something buzzes beneath my head. My phone.
My compromised phone, thanks to Johan.
His hack is… exquisitely intricate. I hate that his technique intrigued me. He’s skilled. As a fellow professional, I can respect that. But it infuriates me to no end, too.
Another vibration has me fishing the compromised tech out from under the pillow. Two messages are waiting for me, both from the unknown number, which apparently has a full name in my phone now. Johan Greco.
I arch a brow, wondering if that’s his real last name.
Then I read his first text. Time to go, little hacker. Laz’s team just gave us the green light.
I snort.
And then scroll down to the second message. There’s a car waiting for us outside. Noah and Laz are going to meet us later at the estate.
I blink at that. Noah and Laz are no longer here? I wonder, sitting up again. Where did they go? My eyes widen a little. Are they dealing with my father?
I didn’t hear any gunfire outside.
But maybe the jet’s walls are insulated or something, masking sound.
Shit.
I grab my gun and phone, then roll off the bed while ignoring the rush of sensation to my head. I need to make sure my dad is okay. Not that we’re close. But I don’t really like the idea of anything happening to the members of my family.
Especially Gio.
I march toward the door and shove my bare feet into my boots, slip the gun into one side, and exit.
“Where’s Lazarus?” I demand.
Johan stares me down from his position near the executive chair.
He’s wearing a midnight-blue dress shirt, one that looks freshly pressed.
The sleeves are rolled to the elbows, and the top button is unfastened.
His legs are casually crossed at the ankles, and his hands are in the pockets of his slacks.
The epitome of indifference. Undisturbed. And annoyingly calm.
“He’s with Noah,” he tells me cryptically. “Shall we go?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what’s going on.”
He cants his head, the motion sending his dark hair over the rim of his black glasses to hide one crystal-blue eye. I hate how attractive he looks like this. All rumpled and delicious. Intelligent. Sexy.
Ugh.
The alpha even has dimples.
Which he displays now as his lips curl up on one side. “We’re going to the Ferraro estate in the Hamptons, just like Laz said.”
“And they’re not with us because…?” I prompt.
“Because Laz and Noah have business to attend to.”
“What kind of business?”
“The kind we’re not going to discuss,” he replies, pushing off the chair. “Let’s go.”
This time, it’s not worded as a question but as a statement. A command.
However, I have no interest in behaving when my family is likely being threatened or hunted or worse. “No.”
Johan’s eyebrow lifts. “No?”
“No,” I repeat. “I’ve already said I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”
His gaze narrows. “You might be our scent match, sweetheart, but you’re not family yet. Once you claim us, we’ll talk.”
“I’m not claiming any of you,” I bite off through my clenched teeth. “Where is my father? Does Lazarus have him? My brother? Are they all fighting outside?”
Johan’s brow smooths out, a hint of understanding flashing across his features. “Ah, I see.” He turns around to dig in a bag on the chair behind him. “Here.” He walks over to me, holding out his hand. “I was going to give it to you in the car, but now seems like a more appropriate time.”
I take the phone from his palm and frown at the familiar hardware. “What model is this?” I ask, confused. “This… this can’t be what I think it is, right?” I slip my other device into my pocket, then power up the one he just handed me. “Holy shit, it is.”
This brand and model isn’t available yet.
It’s supposed to be released next year.
“How…?” I trail off, deciding it’s a moot question.
He’s linked to the Ferraros. They own a technology empire as one of their legitimate businesses. Of course he got his hands on a future release.
“It’s actually a prototype,” he tells me. “Well, the prototype. With a few alterations.” He shrugs. “I figured I owed you a new phone, so I wiped this one, copied over your contacts and a few other things from the cloud, and put a location blocker in it. Otherwise, it’s clean.”
I scroll through some of the apps, recognizing everything I use on my compromised device. “You expect me to believe this isn’t layered with listening malware and hasn’t already been cloned?” I deadpan, trying to pass it back to him. “Yeah, no, thanks.”
He ignores the gesture and reaches down to grab his bag, then pulls the strap over one shoulder. “You can check it out in the car. Call your brother. Hell, I won’t even stop you from throwing it out the window. Although, I will be a little heartbroken. But it’s yours to do with whatever you want.”