“No need. We’re flying private, and I can get you into the country without a passport. You’ll have to apply for them again when you’re home.”
We shared a look, not entirely unsurprised at the illegal nature of this ‘transaction.’
That was what happened when you associated with the mob.
Things that were ingrained in you, ya know, like traveling with a passport and a double date with TSA, nope, not important anymore.
“Why were you flying with us yesterday if you have a private jet?” Neev pushed her head between the driver and passenger seats. “Fuck the planet. I’d travel private alllll the time if I could.”
“My brother needed the jet yesterday.”
“Oh. Neat,” Neev chirped. “I wish Lucas were high enough up the ranks to have a private jet.”
“Where would you fly in it?” Raisin taunted. “You only ever want to go to clubs.”
“I’d go to clubs outside of the tristate area. Duh.”
Though I rolled my eyes because she was so juvenile sometimes, I didn’t stop studying Stan.
That feeling that he was hiding something from me returned with a bang and I didn’t like it. It made me nervous. His expression was serene, but no one could bethatfucking serene. Unless they were high. And I’d seen him high.
I let the rest of the journey take place in silence, multiple replays of our argument pre-blow job roiling around inside my head as I tried to figure out what he’d said that had sent my instinctsflaring.
I couldn’t help but notice that wherever we stopped, though, flashing red and blue lights greeted us but the cops ignored our SUV, not even questioning when Stan took pictures for Star.
Eventually, having witnessed enough of the brutal aftermath of last night’s insanity, Miguel drove us to a barren field in the middle of buttfuck jungle, where a gleaming jet glittered in the hot sun.
It wasn’t one of those tiny planes, either. It was pretty big.
And Stan owned it.
Or, his family did.
If I had any doubts about their wealth, which I hadn’t, here was proof.
Even Belle, my sister-in-law, whose bank account made Daddy Warbucks envious, didn’t have a plane.
Everyone lit it out of the SUV once Miguel had parked, but he and Stan chatted about something I had no interest in, especially when I saw a package of what looked like ammo being passed from one to the other.
As I absently calculated how many federal laws we’d break within the first ten minutes of entering US air space, Stan began talking to someone in a pilot uniform. I happened to spot Neev tugging on the sleeve of Miguel’s sports coat like a persistent puppy who’d just learned teeth could do shit like bite.
I heaved a crabby sigh at her obliviousness.
“She’s gone for him.” Raisin folded her arms across her chest. “You watch her jot down ‘Neev hearts Miguel’ on her notepads.”
“He doesn’t look like a fuckboi so that’s something.” I literally felt the nerve in my right eye twitch. “She always goes for those.”
“And we can’t judge him for the murder thing because we both know Cade and Lucas have been there, done that…”
Ahh, Raisin. Ever logical.
“So I should give him my approval to marry her?” I joked as the pair of us watched the hearts pop around our sister’s head.
“Nah, that’d mean she’d move away. I couldn’t deal with her being so far from us.”
“Agreed.” She might be a pain in the ass, but she wasourpain in the ass. I pursed my lips when Miguel brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “That was slick.”
“Yeah, she’ll never forget that. Fuck, she’s moving to Mexico, isn’t she?”
