Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
I didn’t care about our cover anymore. We weren’t wanted by the police back home or anything like it. They just wanted to talk to us. So if at some point they saw that we’d come through US customs in Florida, so fucking be it. We could deal with that when Blake was home.
I found a pair of socks, my shoes, and an empty leather overnight bag before I headed for the door. “Meet me downstairs in two minutes.”
“And how’s it gonna look if we go through customs with a bag of diamonds?” he demanded.
“I don’t know, we’ll shove them up your ass or something.” I shut the door behind me and jogged down the stairs.
I knew we weren’t alone, so we had to be ready for anything if the guards got in our way.
I heard whistling and the sound of a woman humming coming from the kitchen. Other than that—no, there. A guard outside on the patio. But that was it. No other sign of life. I snuck into the office undetected and immediately went to the desk.
Vincente’s need to display his wealth made this part easy for me. I filled the bag with several bundles of cash, and the drawers revealed even more. Sure enough, diamonds. More cash. A dozen one-ounce gold bars.
I scraped my teeth across my bottom lip, wondering if we should fly to another location than Florida. It was gonna look awfully suspicious. Mexico City, maybe. They’d have plenty of international flights.
I’d figure it out on the way.
We’d buy extra luggage and distribute the cash bundles.
“This is the final boarding call for flight…”
“Hurry up.” Joel walked ahead of me, and I did my best not to let my limp show.
The shit we did in order to avoid US territory apparently included traveling to Toronto. But in our defense, it’d been the only flight available on such short notice. From Toronto, we’d get to Frankfurt. If we made it to the gate in time.
We’d come too fucking far to lose it now. I could admit, I’d been nervous going through customs when we’d landed here earlier today. Thankfully, I’d been smart enough to travel on my Frank Rivera identity, and accidentally flashing my police ID rarely failed. Even Joel had cranked up the military vibes.
We made it in the nick of time, and we were the last to board the Frankfurt flight.
As soon as we were seated in business class, I brought out my phone to send a message to the guys.
We are on our way. See you in Europe.
Crew and Ryan should be in the air already. Ortega, Ramirez, Darius, and Gray were flying out to Paris tomorrow.
“Do you think Vincente’s pissed at us yet?” Joel asked, out of breath.
“I don’t know.” I didn’t think so, but he probably had questions. Maybe doubts too.
Then again, so did I.
Could we trust him for this mission?
The guards hadn’t put up any resistance when we’d left the Blanco estate. None whatsoever. They’d been confused as fuck, but they’d just shrugged and let us go.
I’d reached my fucking limit, to be honest. I didn’t remember the last time I’d slept, so further analysis of anything would have to wait. I was done. I was gonna devour the meal they’d serve as soon as we were airborne, and then I was gonna sleep till we landed in Germany.
A message popped up right before I was about to put my phone in airplane mode. It was from Reese.
We might have found Gomez. I’ll keep you posted. Safe flight. RT2
A breath gusted out of me, and I showed Joel the screen.
He didn’t say anything, but the desperate hope shone in his eyes.
He let his head fall against the headrest, and he stared right ahead. “We’re gonna find her.”
“Of course we will.”
We had to.
“And when we do,” he said, swallowing, “I don’t ever wanna see you again.”
I did a double take at him and stared as the sharpest hurt slashed through me. It hit me so fast, so hard, that my eyes welled up. Embarrassment and anger followed; my ears felt hot, my chest tight, and I averted my gaze just as he glanced my way. Fuck you, Joel. Fucking fuck you. He’d hurt me for the last time.
Joel was dead to me.
Goddammit.
Emotions kept surging up, and I had to clear my throat and blink past the burning sting in my eyes. It was the lack of sleep that prevented me from controlling myself. That was all. I wasn’t upset. I was tired and hungry. He hadn’t gotten to me. I was fine.
“Are you—”
“Shut the fuck up.” I coughed and cleared my throat again. “That’s fine. You had me fooled for a hot second, and that’s on me.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he whispered angrily.
I took a steadying breath and grasped at the cool breeze of detachment that flowed toward me. God, I welcomed it with open arms. Feeling nothing was exactly what I craved right now.