“Then we come back around to a city tearing at the seams.”
“And if the four of us can’t reach a unanimous decision?” My heart thunders wildly in my chest. Pounding. Aching. Bruising. “You’ve set it up to be us versus Felix, as thoughwe,” I gesture to Aubree, Soph, then Ellie, “are just one brain. But we may have differing opinions, too. What then?”
“Then it becomes a decision between five.” He shrugs, his left shoulder lifting fractionally higher than the right. “There will always be a tiebreaker.”
“But—”
“You’re all adults, Chief, and each of you brings intelligence, decency, education, and life experience to the table. I’m quite certain you will find a way forward.” He rubs Ellie’s hand between his palms and studies the woman he wishes were his biological daughter. “I’m handing you the keys to this country, ladies. That includes all my assets, my networks, contacts, and staff. If Felix orders a soldier to walk left and you’d prefer they walk right…”
“Oh, God.” I slump back, tilting my face to the sky and pinching the bridge of my nose. “Felix and I disagreefartoo often for this to be a good plan.”
Estefan chuckles, the sound soft and playful. “I’m confident things will work out fine. Fortunately, I’m not dying today. I’mnot even dying this month, or this year. We have time to massage this new arrangement into place.”
ARCHER
Our plane touches down on a private airstrip about thirty minutes outside New York City with a squeal of tires on the runway, the whole jet bucking and screaming, because our pilot was ordered to get it donefast.
Smooth was not a requirement.
Now we’re here, and my whole fucking world turns chaotic as Tim unsnaps his seatbelt and charges toward the door, a gun in one hand and a whole lot of fiery rage in his eyes.
I could stop him from getting noisy and potentially making shit worse for us. I could slow him down. Fuck, I could tell him to cool it. But I stop on his left, shoulder-to-shoulder, and wait impatiently as the plane bucks and weaves, slowing and turning toward Estefan’s jet.
“He’s probably got guns and scopes waiting for us.” I glance over my shoulder and lock onto Felix’s green stare. “Checkmatestill hasn’t seen him since last night. He fucked me and Mayet up this week, and Ithoughtwe were landing at JFK?!” Lava-hot rage sizzles in my blood. “So now he’s rerouting planes mid-flight and telling no one?”
“Arch—”
“He’s taken this shit too far,” I snarl. “I’m declaring it: his actions are an attack on our family.”
“You point your gun at him, and he’ll declare open season on your face.” Felix crosses the cabin and muscles his way between my chest and the door. Pushing me back, he grabs hold of my collar and tightens his grip. “They’ve landed safely, we’re here now, and he hasonecar waiting outside. He didn’t bring a fleet, he didn’t bring tanks, which means he’s not bringing the heat. Calm the fuck down.” He shoves me back and turns to face the door, then he hits the latch and spins the lock, releasing the door and holding onto the heavy steel frame, his shoulders and back bulging with muscle. “If you run out there like a dickhead and charge toward his car, you’re a dead man.” He lowers the heavy stairs and stops in my way, in Tim’s way, and glowers. “It’s okay to be worried. It’s okay to be stressed. It’snotokay to get yourself killed when talking is how we achieve diplomacy.”
“Fuck diplomacy! Shit would be different if Christabelle were on that flight.” I force him to the side and sprint down the steps, onto the blacktop, where the heat—of the sun, the engine, and the world—merge to bake the skin on my face. I cast a cursory glance toward Estefan’s jet, the door still closed, then I look to his car, and behind it, a half dozen of ours and a pair of Bishop brothers, standing… waiting… their war faces on.
“Fuck it.” I stalk toward Estefan’s Lincoln, gun in hand, and no fucking care for the way his driver climbs out of the front.
The prick stops in front of the back door, barring my way.
“Move.”
He doesn’t speak. He only stares, gritting his jaw.
“Move!” I summon an entire week’s worth of fear and pain and soul-deep anguish, and balling the lot up, I toss Cordoza’s driver to the side and whip the back door open. “You’re gonna have to excuse me, Estefan. But I ran out of diplomacy by Thursday.” I duck my head, fully prepared to stare straight down the barrels of half a dozen guns.
Only… there are none. No one. Nothing.
“What?” Frantic, I swing back around and stop on Tim’s steely eyes. “He’s not in here!”
“He’s in there.” Jay, folding his arms and leaning against the hood of his car, shouts above the sound of the wind. Of rumbling jet engines. Of my blood roaring in my veins. “Soph opened communications about ten minutes ago. He flew with them.”
“Withthem?” Stunned, I turn from the brothers and cast desperate eyes toward Estefan’s jet, my stomach rolling as, through the small windows, I catch Ellie’s red, splotchy face. Minka’s ghostly expression. “Ellie’s been crying.” I sling my gaze to the one I know will care most. Troy ‘Romeo’ Rosa. Her husband. The father of her unborn child. “Why has she been crying?”
The jet’s door releases, and just like ours, a set of stairs folds out to touch the ground. A hostess in a tight skirt suit smiles, like this is just another day on the job, then she steps out of the way, making room for Sophia to exit first.
Unharmed. No sign of crying. Not even a weapon in her hands.
Aubree follows second.
Tim charges forward, both relieved and terrified, scooping his wife off the bottom stair and burying his face against the side of her neck.
