“Vincent. He hired Frankie but he’s agreed to stand down.”
“What about them, mate?” Jumping in front of me, he quickly backs me behind a concession machine as Joey and the Brooklyn league of big-haired women marches out of the elevator.
When they reach the chairs in the lobby, the two goons that I dealt with in Long Island hop up and follow. It reminds me of that kid story, Chicken Little. And yup, the sky is falling.
“Fuck.”
“You married her. You had to have known what you were getting into.”
“Her, Lochlan. That is the operative word. I marriedher. The rest, well, hell. What can I say? She came as a package deal. It’s not like I had a choice in the matter.” I clunk my head on the junk food dispenser, loosening a stuck bag of chips.
As I reach in for the freebie, he chuckles. “Karma is one serious bitch.”
“What? Are you suggestin’ I angered some patron saint of rambling?” The next elevator arrives and as we board, I ask, “What would you do?”
“Pay Frankie to shoot them.” Lucky grins and while I won’t admit it, the thought had crossed my mind.
Picking up the burner phone, I call Vinny. “You might want to have a conversation with two bent noses following your son.”
“Are you shitting me? You take care of it.”
“I’m kinda busy right now.” Before he can add his two cents, I hang up without saying goodbye. Damn, that felt good. Huh.
Reaching our floor, we stride down the hall, and knock. Jack, a longtime friend and coworker, opens the door and slaps my back in a man-hug.
“Hey, you Southern bastard.”
After greeting Lucky in a similar manner, we get down to the business of rescuing Sam.
My boss taps on his keyboard, popping up the images my Aussie pal and I took from the schooner.
Lucky scowls at the monitor. “These sheilas look pretty comfy in their ritzy resort. Do you suppose some of them are there willingly?”
Frowning, Slate shakes his head. “Could be, but I’m guessing the sellers had to expand supply to meet their demand.”
Supply? That’s my kid we’re talking about. Slate didn’t mean any disrespect so I shut my mouth. I’m too antsy. I need to chill if I want my wife back in one piece
“We’ll get her mate. Hang tight.” Lucky punches my shoulder and I nod, back in the game. Here, there’s no room for emotions, only the mission.
Slate clicks and Jack points at a picture of a wharf. “We’ve got our gear stashed on high powered motorboats. We’ll have to refuel the drone. Tasers will subdue the guards. No lethal force unless absolutely necessary.
They have Sam and if I need to kill someone to get her back, I will.“How the hell are we going to get fifty women off the island without a fight?”
“Grayson and a few of his high-powered friends are working out a diplomatic solution.” Slate regards the disagreement written on all our faces and sighs. “The US embassy hasn’t the facilities to house that many women, and even if they did, they’d never agree to start an international incident.”
“These are American citizens we’re talking about, taken against their will.” I argue for all of us and I’m surprised Lucky’s the first to break rank.
“Well, see here, mate. That’s the thing. We don’t know, for sure, if the gals want to be there.”
“We don’t have time for this.” My fists clench. “Whatever. Let’s go.”
Slate clears his throat. “Then it’s agreed. For now, we extract only Gillian and Sam.”
I rasp my hand over my unshaved chin and down another cup of coffee.
“Copy that.”
Chapter 19
