I am free, and it means more than I ever thought it would.
I stareout of the window for the entire journey to the airport, and yet as we pass the exit, it prompts me to say out loud, “I thought we were going to the airport.”
The driver says nothing, and a stirring of unease ripples through me as I say a little louder, “Excuse me, sir, I think we missed the exit.”
Again, he says nothing, and my heart pounds as I sense something is wrong.
From the grim set of his jaw that is reflected in the interior mirror, I remain tight-lipped and gather my wits about me. This isn’t right. It’s a premonition deep inside me, and my mind races to come up with a plan if shit gets real.
He overtakes several cars and then cuts in before one and veers off at the next exit, and we appear to be heading toward the private airfield on the other side of the airport.
I relax a little because of course, we must be traveling in the company jet of the person who is arranging our accommodation and job. I glance out of the window with interest at the executive jets and larger ones that separate the elite from the masses.
The car stops at a security gate, and with a cursory glance inside, the security guard waves us through.
My nerves have been replaced with curiosity as we stop at the foot of the steps of a black jet with no insignia on the tail.
Something prickles on my nerve endings because surely this isn’t right. I don’t know why, perhaps because I haven’t been a member of civilization for so long but I kind of thought I’d be traveling on a commercial jet.
The cab comes to a stop where a red carpet runs up to the steps that have lowered from the aircraft.
The door to the aircraft is open, and I can just make out the pilot as he carries out his pre-flight checks.
His aviator sunglasses are disguising his identity, and I have a premonition that something is very wrong about this.
I notice the driver talking to a man who is guarding entry to the plane, and they glance in my direction, causing my heart to pound. Nothing about this feels right, and I clutch my purse to my chest as if it’s a lifeline.
The guard nods, and the driver heads toward my door,and yet before he reaches it, he stops, and his attention is diverted elsewhere.
Then, in one split second everything changes as gunfire breaks out and the cab driver’s head explodes before my disbelieving eyes.
3
JULIUS
The minute she left the convent, we were tracking her, courtesy of the phone nestling in her purse. It was a stroke of genius to engage a tracking device, and it enabled us to keep our distance and plan strategically.
We watched the cab bypass the exit for the main airport and alerted our men at the private airfield to stand on guard.
They are disguised as engineers and security, and it took a lot of persuasion and offers way beyond our usual means to secure access.
Eddie growls, “We will have one shot at this before Liam realizes what’s happening and counterattacks.”
I hide a smile because even if we failed, the pilot is also one of ours, not to mention the aircrew who have been working undercover with the Dettori mafia for years, spilling their secrets like liquid gold into our open ears.
It’s how we knew of Liam’s plan to kidnap Rose Zaferelli before she even left Switzerland. It’s a ballsy move, and I’m guessing there will be many more attempts to kidnap the heiress, who is the key to billions. A dynasty, if you like. Adiamond dynasty and every fucker out there with an ounce of common sense will be beating a path to the altar to make her their wife.
It’s a good job I have insider knowledge, and that lucky person will undoubtedly be me.
The car stops at the foot of the aircraft, and I hold my breath as I wait with Eddie Travers, my right-hand man, in the airport baggage truck. As soon as the driver approached Liam’s guard, we exited the vehicle and while Eddie blew the driver’s brains out, I jumped into the vacant driver’s seat, leaving Eddie and the rest of my guards to hold off the attack so we could make a getaway.
I’m impressed that Rose sits quietly on the back seat as the car screams out of the airfield, and as we pass through the gates, I growl, “Buckle up, baby girl; this ride will not be a comfortable one.”
“Who are you?”
Her soft voice slides over my soul, and as I press the accelerator to maximum, I say loudly, “The man who just saved you from a fate worse than death.”
We scream around the bend and onto the open road, dodging the traffic without causing too much attention. I check my rearview mirror, and part of me relaxes when I sense we are not being followed.
