He heads up the stairs, turning on several lights, and then popping his head back out, gesturing with two fingers for us to come inside.
“You, to the cockpit,” he says, pointing at Travis. “How long to get this thing warmed up and ready to fly?”
“Um, give or take, twenty to thirty minutes,” he answers.
“What?” I drop my bag on the seat. “We can’t wait that long. We need to go now. Anyone could come out here!” I throw my hands in my hair, pushing it all behind me.
“Just chill, Gia. No one is around. Trust me.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” I grumble, snatching up my bag and slouching in one of the chairs. Travis enters the pit, and Clark sighs, following behind him, watching his every move.
The smell of leather and spice surrounds me, my leg bouncing as I hear Travis complaining about something and then pulling a few knobs and twisting some levers.
Twenty minutes pass, and the engine starts, but they’re still up there, trying to figure something out.
I pick up my gun and look out of the window, my heart catching speed again. The strip is empty. Vacant. We’re the only ones here. I have to keep that in mind.
With a deep breath, I stand, going for the mini-fridge bolted to the wall. I take out a water bottle and crack it open, guzzling most of it down.
I sit back in my seat when their voices become calmer. My pulse settles, and I loosen my finger from the trigger.
Just as I start to relax, headlights flash on my face through the plane window, and a black truck with flashing blue and white lights appears, parking a short distance away from the plane.
I know that SUV.
I saw it earlier.
My heart drops at the mere presence of it.
A man in a black suit steps out, his hair parted just at the temple, gelled and combed in style. He adjusts the collar of his jacket, but I hop out of my chair, clutching the gun.
“Clark—who the fuck is that?” I hiss, shoulders hiking up, tense now. Every muscle in my body grows tight, my breaths thicker, becoming harder to pass through.
Clark spins around with his eyebrows drawn together, drawing the cover of one of the windows up and peering out. “Shit.”
“I thought no one knew we were here! Is that a cop?”
I look back out the window, and the cop digs into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a gold badge and holding it in the air.
“DEA! I need everyone on the jet to step off right now!” he commands.
My pulse becomes sluggish. I can hear it whooshing in my ears. My finger tightens around the trigger, eyes as wide as saucers.
“Gia, be calm,” Clark murmurs. “We don’t have any drugs. Just guns. And I have permits for mine. We can easily hide yours.”
I don’t speak.
I can’t.
All words are lodged in my throat.
A fucking DEA agent is standing outside the jet. He could arrest us all and throw us in jail for the hell of it.
“I’m not here about the drugs, or the money, or any of that shit you try to do under the radar!” he yells, taking a small a step forward. “I’m here for Gianna Nicotera.”
When he says my name, my sluggishly beating heart slithers to the pit of my stomach.
Clark looks over at me with a slight grimace. “How the fuck does he know you’re here?”
I pull my lips in, taking a step to the side. I don’t know. I have no clue how he knows. He shouldn’t know…Draco was smart. He did it quietly. There’s no way in hell…
“How long until we can take off, Travis?” Clark demands.
“Almost ready. Just—just two more minutes at least. Everyone has to buckle in.”
I ignore them, staring harder out the window.
“She knows where you are, Gianna,” the agent yells, pacing in front of the jet. “You can’t run. She’ll find you, wherever you go. Just turn yourself in and end this. Give her what she wants.”
My heartbeat is all I can hear now.
A slow, deliberate thump.
Thu-thunk.
Thu-thunk.
Thu-thunk.
I can’t breathe…
I can’t…I can’t talk. One moment I’m gasping for breath, listening to Clark shout my name, and the next, I’m seeing red. So much fucking red. I feel my teeth smash together, my gun tighter in hand.
I don’t give much thought to what I do next.
My feet move faster than my brain can function.
Even though I hear Clark shouting at me, probably telling me not to go out, I don’t listen.
Before I know it, I’m standing in the cold, hustling halfway down the staircase with my pistol aimed high and a bullet flying directly at the agent.
23
GIANNA
He hits the ground with a loud groan, and I rush for him.
Another agent hops out the car and I shoot him too, before he can draw his gun on me.