I muttered under my breath, mostly to myself, “And Sinclair really was an idiot.”
Bones glanced at me, one brow raised. “You think?”
“I know,” I said, flat and honest. “I mean, the guy couldn’t remember his own name, let alone match accents to last names. British Spanish? German South African? He was barely coherent.”
Voodoo snorted without looking up. “You’re being charitable.”
I grinned, though the tension in my chest didn’t ease. I’d call it professional courtesy, but that prick didn’t deserve anything resembling it.
Lunchbox shook his head, eyes on the runway as he taxied toward the hangers. “You’re enjoying the chaos more than you’re letting on.”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “Maybe I am. Doesn’t mean I’m not ready to put a bullet in Yakov’s—” I caught myself, though Grace’s amused eyes said she’d heard that last unspoken syllable. “—have aconversationwith him.”
She snorted and leaned in to brush a kiss against my cheek. “Conversation first. Bullet later?”
Delight flared under the tension coiled in my gut. I’d never imagined a Gracie in my life—never mind woven into all of ours. But she fit, seamlessly. Her personality, her ferocious spirit, that unshakeable determination—hell, even the sensual way she melted for us when she wanted to. I couldn’t have pictured any of this before her. Now I couldn’t imagine a world without her.
Miami’s heat pressed against the cabin walls, and the air conditioning fought valiantly to keep the sweat at bay. I could already feel the temperature climbing inside as Lunchbox taxied us to our rental slot.
“You think he knows we’re coming?” Voodoo asked, tilting his head toward me.
“Maybe,” I said finally. “Maybe not. Depends on who’s been in his circle recently. But he’s careful. Calculated. He won’t actbefore he has to. Or how much information on the FBI ‘sting’ at the Delaware port has been shared.”
“It’s not in the news,” Grace said. “Not here or overseas. I’ve been watching for it over the past few days. Nothing.”
I leaned back in my seat, fingers drumming lightly against the armrest. “Then hopefully, we’re ahead of this curve.”
Whether we were or not, we’d get him. Then he’d talk. The only real questions were how long it would take and how much force we’d have to apply. Miami wasn’t going to be clean or easy. Nothing ever was. But we were ready.
The chances of our target sitting somewhere, thinking he was untouchable were high. That also meant we had some time to close the trap on him. The fact he was a possible link to the Madrina outfit, the Kirov Syndicate, or both. If both, then he was the elusive one Sinclair couldn’t, or wouldn’t, remember.
“Don’t mind me, I’m hoping Mr. Dvorak is as on point as Sinclair. Easier conversation that way.”
Voodoo twisted to look at me. “You’re hoping he’s incompetent, just so we can get in, talk, and get out?”
“Absolutely,” I said with a shrug. “I’m here for efficiency.”
Lunchbox leaned back, eyes closing briefly. “Efficiency, style, and chaos. That’s our motto, Alphabet. Don’t forget it.”
“I thought your motto was ‘we improvise,’” Grace said, shutting off her tablet.
Bones snorted. “No, that’s just our style.”
The banter eased the tension in my shoulders and the ghost of a cramp in my thigh. I rubbed at it slowly, to help with stretching it. Too many hours locked in the same position was increasing the discomfort.
“Cars are here. Might need to pick up some other gear, but I’ve had our safe house cleared and stocked.” Voodoo was already unbuckling his seat belt as Lunchbox began shutting down the engines after the wheel chocks were in place.
We split once baggage and gear were loaded. Miami humidity hit like a wet towel the second we stepped outside the air-conditioned cocoon, and by the time Goblin hopped into the backseat of the black SUV Bones was driving with Grace. Neither of which looked any happier about the weather than I was.
I gave myself a couple of minutes to stretch before I climbed into the passenger seat. Bones adjusted the mirrors, flipped the A/C to blast, and muttered, “Miami. Damned frying pan.”
“I was already missing Montana,” I said, buckling in.
His grin was sharp. “Same.”
Static crackled in my earpiece as Lunchbox’s voice came online. “Everybody green?”
I tapped my mic. “Yep. We’re rolling.”
