I don’t know how long we stay like that, nor do I care. I would want nothing more than to turn the jet around and disappear.
She climbs down, one small step steeped in determination after another, taking that decision from me. Her swift ending of us makes me wonder if the entire trip was more of a mirage. Something my depraved brain imagined.
Shaking my head to clear it, I open the door for her and get in my Bugatti.
Not even my favorite car brings me a modicum of joy.
Dahlia remains silent and perfectly still on the drive home.
When my phone rings, I crack my neck to ease the tense muscles. Let it be that someone fucked up so I can fuck them up. I need something to expel this pain butchering my insides.
I pick up to hear Adrian say, “Boss, you need to come to the club. We have a problem.”
I hang up, right in time for the gates to the compound to open.
With every mile, she has stiffened more beside me. I am afraid she will break apart with a touch.
After parking the car, I round it to open the door for her.
“Are you leaving?” she asks, voice trembling.
“Yes, some problems I need to deal with.”
“Be careful, okay?”
I smile at her, infusing as much confidence as I can, while I couldn’t care fucking less if I live or die. “Always.”
I am about to leave when she calls my name. She has the force to stop me in my tracks like nothing else. I look at her over my shoulder, pleading for her to choose me.
“Thank you.”
I let out a self-deprecating sound, but nod, and rush to my car.
Was it all fucking in my head?
I speed toward the club, hoping to get my hands on someone. The rage flooding my system craves blood and broken limbs—sweat and pain.
Once I park, my men stand straighter, greeting me.
In my office, Adrian waits for me. We don’t waste time with small talk, and I drop into my chair. He plays a video on his phone, and I see several masked men sniffing around our ports, specifically targeting our cargo.
“They know what they’re doing. They’re cops.”
We keep a list of all the dirty cops, paying from bottom to top, but this feels like an insult I won’t stand for. So, I call the chief. I don’t care how late it is.
“I’ll send you some pics. I want their names and addresses in the next ten minutes.”
I hang up and send my team the video as well. We got our hands on some facial recognition technology that is years away from release. No one can hide their faces even behind a mask. But I want to test him. One wrong name, one second later, and I will remove his ass in the best case. And I am not in a generous mood.
My men, being smart, keep their distance and don’t even ask me how my mini vacation went.
Steepling my fingers on my mouth, I wait for names.
My team is faster, and I get the names and addresses of the five guys in under two minutes.
The chief of police sends them six minutes later.
They match. Good for him. He gets to live.
