Chapter 29
Lillian
Settling into my first-class seat by the window, I press the recline button on the armrest. “I still can’t believe those two bolted from the safe house.”
Sean flips open his tray table, leans over, and kisses the tip of my nose. “Blame my grandmother. She’s the troublemaker.”
With my mouth open, I force my ears to pop as the plane levels off before answering. “Ruthie does have an uncanny sixth sense. Perhaps her subconscious picked up some weird vibe.”
“We’re both exhausted.” He lowers the barrier between us, tugs me close, then rests his chin on the top of my head. “Let’s get some sleep. Trust our team to find them.”
Much later, the landing gear thumps into place. After we descend, the tires screech against the runway. When the fasten seatbelt sign goes off, Sean shares a weary smile.
“We’re home.” He checks his burner phone. “Dante’s sending a car.”
Bags in hand, we spill off the plane. Once we clear customs, we step into the crowded waiting area. His long stride moves us through the sea of travelers past a noisy airport bar where rowdy tourists cheer their team.
Head on a swivel, we reach the escalator. Stepping aside, hand on my back, he motions me on first. At the bottom, a line of drivers waits, holding placards or tablets at chest height. We head toward the one with our names and follow him out the door.
“I’ll take this for you, Miss.” As the man lifts my luggage, his right sleeve rides up, revealing an inked wrist.
Oh, my fucking God. I know that tat. My pulse skyrockets. Hooking my fingers behind Sean’s neck, I pull him into a kiss, then brush my lips across his ear. “He’s my father’s man.”
My partner stiffens as two more Chevy Suburbans glide to box us in. If either of us is forced into one of those vehicles, we’re dead.
“Left my purse in the restroom. Be right back.” I sprint for the sliding glass doors, praying Sean will have a better chance if he’s not trying to protect me.
At the door, I stop to glance over my shoulder.
Huge mistake.
A man in a black face mask levels a handgun at me. “Stop!”
Not a chance.
Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I burst into the terminal and snatch a sweatshirt from the top of an unattended luggage cart.
Still running, I yank it over my head, pull up the hood, then blend into a bunch of tall, blond tourists.
Seconds later, I hop onto the long-term parking shuttle.
As it pulls away, police lights race toward the building, sirens wailing behind them.
Compromised, I crush my comm unit along with the mic under my heel.
We’re on our own.
Please, God… let Sean be okay.