16. OLIVIA
OLIVIA
My hand slapped over Ryle’s, causing him to yelp. “Watch the claws,” he said, pouting slightly.
Turned out, he was a sore loser. Just a big old baby.
He thrust out his hands, eyes narrowing in concentration. It’d been his idea to play Slapsies. We both needed the distraction so we didn’t think about the fact that Madoc was gone. And Jax was gone. And something was off—we both felt it.
Ryle clearly underestimated my reflexes. Just because he was a renowned thief with sticky fingers didn’t mean he was better than me. I could swipe a pair of shoes from a sale rack like a ninja. I could drive a car while applying mascara and a cute, winged eyeliner.
Check me.
I struck again, hitting the mark. He growled. “Fuck. How are you doing that?”
“How are you so slow?” I teased him. It felt good to take a beat. Just a minute without feeling cold, constant dread.
“You’re worse than Nate,” he grumbled, rubbing his pinkening flesh. The mention of Nate, Jax’s elusive sixth member, made me curious. Jax wouldn’t even entertain his name in conversation. The betrayal ran deep.
“Nate was doped up during the last job,” Ryle said when I mentioned it. “He wasn’t thinking straight. He pulled a gun on Jax.”
I gasped. “Why?”
“Because the dumbass was scared. Dr. Z coerced him into destroying evidence behind Jax’s back. And, you know, Jax is scary as fuck when he’s angry.”
My mind whirled. There hadn’t been any time after the island for a debrief. Jax had been so angry at me for siding with Preacher. I still remembered the betrayed look on his face when I stepped into that helicopter and left him behind on the beach.
Would he ever forgive me? I wasn’t sure. But judging by his reaction to Nate, he wasn’t someone who forgave easily. He trusted even less easily.
I glanced at the window to my right. Ryle had given up the seat, so I had a full view of the dark, stormy night sky. We’d started flying over the North Atlantic. The Valley of Death. Every bump and shudder made me clench up in dread.
What the hell was taking Madoc so long?
“Man, I have no idea what people did before Wi-Fi,” Ryle said, extending his hands for another round.
“Me neither.”
“I haven’t swiped on a dude in hours. Or watered my virtual plants. After all that effort I put into them.”
I laughed, but it sounded tired. I was stupid tired. “I didn’t realize you were dating,” I said, using the conversation to stay alert. Gossip was as good as caffeine in a pinch.
“Not dating. Biding my time.” Ryle narrowed his eyes, then slapped me hard enough to make me wince. “Ha!”
“Biding your time for what?”
“My turn,” he said, but he wasn’t talking about Slapsies. His face was oddly serious. “I’m not good at waiting. I hate it. But I don’t think I can rush Cal. I need to wait because he’s got his shit, you know. Like I’ve got my shit. And Jax has his.”
I snorted. “Jax definitely has his shit.”
“We all do. You’re telling me you don’t have shit?”
I did. I had a lot of shit. A great big pile of shit, in fact.
They didn’t know the half of it.
Noise exploded from the cabin doorway that led to the bar. Ryle straightened and glanced over his shoulder. “Sounds like a raging party.”
“Should we see—”
That dreaded click of heels cut me off. I groaned. Not again.
“There,” Lucille’s voice carried over sharply. “That one!”
Ryle and I locked eyes before a wicked grin flashed across his face. “Looks like I’ve been made.”
I stood up and faced the other cabin entrance. Lucille wasn’t alone. A big, beefy man with a thick handlebar mustache had accompanied her. His face was sour, an angry flush creeping up his neck.
The air marshal.
His gaze was fixed furiously on Ryle.
“I thought you said he didn’t notice you stealing from him?”
“He didn’t,” Ryle muttered back. “I mean, I was flirting with him pretty hard. Called him big bear daddy. I guess he put two and two together.”
As the furious man approached, Ryle used his sticky fingers to slip the taser into my pocket. Then he stepped into the aisle, his hands raised above his head.
It was obvious he’d been in this position before.
“You’re in big trouble, kid,” the air marshal growled.
Ryle smirked suggestively. “Promise?”
The other passengers in first class perked up over their seats, curious. Ryle waited until the air marshal was close enough before he attacked.
Ryle struck hard and fast, punching the man like he had a personal vendetta. He probably did. I knew Jax hated cops, and it wouldn’t surprise me if the whole crew had beef with law enforcement. They were criminals after all.
The problem was, the air marshal had at least seventy pounds on Ryle. Not that Ryle appeared to care.
I slapped my hands over my eyes. Oh god, what the hell was he doing?
I heard curses and more grunts, flesh slapping flesh. Unable to help myself, I parted my fingers and peeked at the mayhem.
Ryle had put up a hell of a fight. But he was no match for a trained federal agent.
The man had him pinned to the floor, his knees in Ryle’s back as he wrestled him into a pair of handcuffs.
Lucille stood over the writhing pair, looking shocked.
That look soured into suspicion when she glanced at me.
The unwilling accomplice.
Shit.
I scrambled forward, trying to convey innocence. If we made it to Zurich alive, I had a sneaking suspicion Lucille was planning to have me arrested. At the very least, I had definitely failed my probation.
“Where have you been?” Lucille hissed at me.
“I, um—"
“I told you to stay with Marcus.” She stepped over the thrashing pair. Ryle was threatening to bite off the air marshal’s balls. Delightful. “It astounds me how you fail to follow even the simplest of instructions.”
Heat rushed to my face. Two men were bleeding on the floor, but somehow Lucille managed to steal the show with her viciousness.
“HELP!”
Our heads snapped to the doorway. A thin woman in a pale mauve pant suit was clutching her pearls, her face as pale as a sheet. “The bartender is dying. We need a doctor!”
To her credit, Lucille didn’t waste a second. She rushed toward the bar while the air marshal heaved a resistant Ryle to his feet.
“Shouldn’t you go see to that, officer?” Ryle taunted him as the man handcuffed him directly to the seat.
“I’ll be back for him,” the air marshal told me before joining the crowd pushing into the bar.
I turned to Ryle, my heart thumping in dread. “The Vipers have killed another passenger.”
Ryle sighed and went slack. A big bruise was already forming over his left eye. “Yeah. But don’t worry. Jax won’t let them take you.”
“Maybe he should.”
Ryle frowned at me. Then his eyes narrowed. “Don’t start that. Jax would kill me dead if I let you give yourself up now.”
I crossed my arms, a lump in my throat. I needed a good cry, but I was afraid that if I started, I’d never stop. “People are dying because of me,” I whispered.
“No. They’re dying because the Vipers are fucking sadistic pricks. They kill for fun. You can’t blame yourself for that.”
I nodded, my eyes downcast. As much as I wanted to turn off that little voice in my head, I couldn’t. There was a reason the Vipers wanted me.
“Olivia…” Ryle’s voice had a strange note in it. I looked up at him.
His face had turned to stone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him, looking at the handcuffs. Were they too tight?
“Big guy. By the doorway.”
Slowly, I turned and faced the cabin doorway.
Big guy didn’t cut it. The man was a literal giant. Tall, broad-shouldered, even bigger than the air marshal. He was wearing a crimson suit, perfectly tailored to his enormous frame. My eyes drilled immediately on the mean scar that slashed over his right eye and down his cheek.
At my attention, the man moved purposefully into the cabin, making a beeline for us.
“Shit,” I said, panicking.
Ryle tugged on his handcuffs. “Shit,” he echoed.
Fear clogged up my windpipe. I looked around helplessly. The commotion at the bar had drawn a curious crowd, meaning first class was practically empty. One woman was sleeping, headphones in and eye mask in place. An unbothered queen.
Ryle thrashed against his restraints.
The large man stopped, leaving just a few feet between us. “Come with me,” he said, his accent thick. “Or he dies.”
Ryle bared his teeth. “Try it, fucker.”
I looked at Ryle, then back at the man. I had no idea how they were killing people, but it had to be discreet. Something quick and unseen.
“Olivia,” Ryle said, nearly ripping his arm out of his socket. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
I couldn’t let him kill Ryle.
I didn’t want anyone else to die for me.
“Okay,” I said, my shoulders dipping in defeat. “I’ll go with you.”
The man smiled. It was not a nice smile.
Ryle was roaring, but I barely heard it over the rush of panic in my head. The man stepped toward me and offered his hand like a gentleman. Sucking in a deep breath, I reached out to take it.
In the same motion, I drove the taser into his chest with my other hand.
I had no idea if Ryle left the safety on. I prayed and prayed as I jammed the button. There was a sharp crack, and then the man collapsed, his legs spasming. His face turned a deep, violent purple.
Ryle whooped. “Fuck yeah! You fucker! You underestimated the pretty girl—oh shit.”
The man was already sitting up like some resurrected Frankenstein monster. Clearly, he was no stranger to pain. The look on his face was familiar. It was the same one Peter Vincilli had right when he’d decided to kill me.
I’d poked the bear.
He rose to his feet in one fluid motion and stalked toward me. I held out the taser like a gun, but I was shaking too hard. My fingers were slippery and unreliable.
The man stopped two feet away. He considered me for a moment, then smiled coldly. “I will give you three seconds,” he said. “Then I will kill him.”
Tears burned my eyes. A taser wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to stop him.
Ryle twisted, looking at me wildly. “Do not,” he said. “Olivia—”
“I will break him,” the man said, teeth flashing. To prove it, he walked over to Ryle, who twisted with a snarl: “don’t you fucking touch—”
The man punched him in the gut, causing Ryle to groan and fold over.
“Stop!” I cried, stepping forward. “Stop, don’t—”
“Next I will snap his pretty neck,” the Viper said, and reached for Ryle’s throat. I had no doubt he could. The mental image alone made me sick to my stomach.
I’m sorry, Jax.
I dropped the taser. “Okay,” I said, lifting my hands. “Okay.”
The Viper smirked and released Ryle with a shove. Then he extended his hand again, beckoning me closer.
With a last silent apology, I walked straight into the Viper’s arms.