Igor: The captain just said to prepare for landing.
Me: Get there as soon as you can.
Brax rolls the divider glass down an inch and tells Vito, "Take me to my place."
I ask, "What are you doing?"
"We're taking my car," he snarls, scowling at Vito.
He glares at Brax in the rearview mirror.
I don't argue. Vito shouldn't even be my driver after I made my requests, yet the Omni won't give me another.
The SUV weaves through traffic and stops in front of Brax's building. We get out, and he leads me through the parking garage to his rebuilt 1980s Mustang. He cocks a grin and opens the passenger door. "Get in, Minx."
A sharp, warm flutter runs through my core. I obey, and he shuts the door, then races to the driver's side.
The engine snarls to life. Brax hits the accelerator and peels out of the garage. Streetlights smear past the windshield in streaks of amber as he slices through traffic.
He grabs his phone, swipes it, then holds it to his ear. A moment passes, and he orders, "There's a plan to assassinate Fiona."
Sean's roar comes through the phone. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Hack into Lev and Igor Petrov's data. We need to find out who else is involved. Valentina and I are taking care of them now," he states.
Sean's muffled voice fills the car.
Brax shakes his head and makes a sharp turn. "No. I'll take care of them. I need you hacking." He hangs up.
"We need to tell Kirill," I say, then dial him, but it doesn't even ring. I groan, then text his head of security, Draco.
Me: 911
His reply comes seconds later.
Draco: Contact the Yacht.
The Mustang roars louder as Brax overpowers a semi. He veers off the ramp.
I dial another number.
Sergio answers, "Hello, Valentina. How may I help you?"
"911. I need to speak to him immediately."
His voice turns to worry. "One mom—" The line goes dead.
"Fuck!" I attempt to call again, but it won't go through.
"What's wrong?" Brax asks.
"They're probably in international waters. Sometimes the phone doesn't work when it's moving to another satellite."
"That's convenient," he mutters.
I try eight more times, but the line never rings.
Several minutes go by as we pass huge buildings with shattered glass, loading bays with crooked doors that can't shut properly, and bare steel flanks.
