Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I glance back at Clark, who rolls his eyes.
I bend over, pressing my palms into the tops of my thighs. “Listen, I don’t care if you check in. By the time anyone catches on, we’ll be too far ahead for them to do anything about it. Yeah, they may come after us, and yeah they might catch you, but if Uncle Jack asks, just tell him Gia Nicotera wanted to get back to Mexico, and she forced Clark to come along with her. Tell them I had guns to both your heads, if that’ll help. You’ll be in the clear and so will Clark.” I walk behind him, pulling at one of the knots in the rope.
“Why would I lie for him after what he did to me?” he demands, glaring at Clark. “He took me during the middle of the night, while my family was sleeping. They could have seen what happened. My wife is pregnant!”
“Uh, I think if you want to keep your fucking job, Travey boy, then you’ll say exactly what the fuck she told you to say, and go along with it. Your kids won’t be feeding themselves, right? Your family relies on the money we give to you.”
“Oh, don’t you dare bring my kids into this,” Travis seethes.
“Oh my God. Seriously?” I roll my eyes. “Just shut the hell up and help me untie him. You two can argue later.”
Clark turns with a ghostly sneer. He pulls a pocketknife out of his front pocket and pushes a button on the side of it, slinging the blade out. Travis freezes up as Clark walks toward him with the knife. He grabs the top of the rope and slices through it, staring down at Travis the whole time.
Once the rope is undone, I step back, and Travis stands up, still wary.
“Better not give us any trouble, Travey boy. I’ve got my eyes on you.”
“If I get fired—”
“If Big Jack fires you, then I will make sure you get enough money so that you never have to work for anyone ever again.” They both look back at me. Clark’s eyes scream his doubt, and Travis is flat-out stunned. I wave a hand. “I have a soft spot for kids. Can we go now?”
Clark walks past me, to the exit. I point at Travis with my gun, motioning with it for him to move along. He gives me a nervous glance before walking out.
When we’re outside, Travis says, “I try to stay out of the loop on these things—what goes on in the mafia family—but you must be her. The girl they all kept talking about. The one who was abducted and then set free by some kingpin in Mexico. Now you’re trying to go back there?”
I really am getting sick of everyone wondering why I want to go back. Maybe when they see Draco and me together, they’ll understand. Until then, I’ll keep my mouth shut and let his actions speak for themselves.
We meet up to Clark’s car, and I open the back door for Travis. “Get in,” I order, ignoring his statement.
He climbs in without hesitation, and I slam the door behind him.
“Hey, take it easy on the doors, Tomb Raider,” Clark snaps as he starts the car up.
“Just drive.” I shut the passenger door and place my gun on my lap. “How long to get to the private strip?”
“About twenty-five minutes,” Clark answers.
“Is the plane fueled?” I ask, looking over my shoulder at Travis.
“Yes. There is a full tank and it was already checked, inside and out, by a mechanic.”
“And we’ll only need to make one stop to fill up?”
“Yes,” he answers.
“Good.”
Travis slouches back in the seat, and Clark puts the car in motion. We ride mostly in silence, but my mind is screaming. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. This is a suicide mission, for sure.
For all I know, as soon as I cross that border, someone will recognize me and inform Yessica, and she’ll come for me again. I’m praying the opposite happens, and they inform Draco instead.
Clark parks in an abandoned lot, leading us to the private runway on foot. I can see the jet. It’s white, with a thick black line across the middle. It’s not as big as Draco’s, but it’s nice. Simple. Just like Uncle Jack and his family—well, all of them but Clark.
There is no one around, to my surprise. There is a booth a couple yards away, but it doesn’t look like anyone is in it.
“Did you tell security to go home? The guards?” I ask.
“Yes. Paid them off so they wouldn’t ask any questions or report to Big Jack. No one’s watching.”
I hustle beside him, trying to keep up my pace while also keeping an eye on Travis, who is on the other side of Clark. We finally reach the jet, and Clark grabs a handle, drawing down the stairs that lead up to it.