Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
It’s a red flag if ever there was one.
I follow, darting behind every artificial tree and decorative column to hide me as I pursue them. Is that… no. It can’t be.
Piero’s dead.
I shove past a small group of women heading my way and duck again, just in time to hear footsteps leading to another exit.
I follow Piero at a safe distance.
Anna, Santo… Piero. They’re all connected.
“Tavi, you see what I see?”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Caught a glimpse before it crashed again. Can’t be, brother,” I whisper. “Unless Santo didn’t kill him…”
I shake my head. How deep does the betrayal run? How long? How many people have been involved?
“Follow him,” Orlando says, but I’m already two steps ahead of him. I don’t need to be told twice.
He takes a quick flight of stairs down and heads to the escalator.
When my foot hits the top step, a gunshot rings out. I duck on instinct. It hits the ceiling above. Plaster and dust rain down on me. I look around sharply for the shooter when another shot follows, then another. Ducking, I trot down the escalator and brandish my weapon.
It’s quieter down here, but a small crowd getting their luggage hears the noise and flies into a panic. Motherfucker, the goddamn airport is the absolute worst place to get caught in a shoot-out. Someone in a security uniform heads my way.
He yells at me in Italian to drop my weapon.
Ha. Not on your life, motherfucker. I feign surrender, wait until he’s close enough to me. I yank him to me, knee him, and knock him out with an elbow to the side of the head. A door to my far right opens and closes. I take off at a run.
Another security guard on my left tries to stop me but I turn, see my chance, and shoot. I don’t know who’s with the enemy or who’s just a security guard here, but I’m taking no chances. I hit his wrist. I don’t wait to see what happens, but his scream of pain tells me my bullet was on target.
Ten paces in front of me’s the door I saw them use. There’s no telling what’s on the other side of that door. A smart move would be to find another entrance, another door, come in a way they don’t suspect… but I don’t know the layout of the airport enough to do that.
“Orlando?”
“Can’t see anything on the footage, brother. Be careful, Tavi.”
If someone’s on the other side of this door, I’ll have to use it as a weapon. I open the door as hard and fast as I can and hit someone on the other side. I hear a grunt, come around the door, and duck, just in time to miss the blow. I act on sheer instinct and muscle memory. Swivel and hit him with the barrel of my gun. He falls on his back, still conscious.
I don’t know who he is and won’t leave unnecessary casualties. Injuries, yes. Casualties, no.
I grab him by the front of the shirt. “Who the hell are you?”
“Not fucking telling you,” he grits. “Kill me, for all I care.”
Tempting. Jesus. I don’t have time for this but know I’m on the right path if he isn’t talking. I cock my pistol and put it to his temple, ready to shoot.
“You with Regazza?” He grits his teeth and goes still. I curse. “Santo?”
Recognition flares in his eyes.
“Where is he?”
He shakes his head from side to side. Motherfucker.
I knock him out and push his body in front of the door as a blockade. When I turn, I find no one’s come for me. I expected someone, anyone, to come and stop me, to be ready for my entrance.
I look back at the guy I’ve knocked out cold.
He was on watch.
For me?
“Tavi?” Orlando says in my ear.
“I’m here,” I whisper.
“I don’t see anything over here. It’s all blank again. Jesus, they did this on purpose, didn’t they?”
I don’t respond. I have to stay as quiet as I can. He can’t see me, but I take out my phone and send a quick text.
I hear voices ahead of me. They did this on purpose. They’re here for a reason. I’ll find them.
I’ll find them and I’ll kill them, every last motherfucking one of them.
I close my eyes and listen. My father was an asshole, but he taught us many things, and one was how to block off one of the senses to amplify the others.
In the distance, I can hear a plane taking off. The hum of a heating vent. Someone being paged, and sirens. Police? There was a shooting, so flights will be delayed. It isn’t a plane taking off, but landing, then.
I hear a voice, then another. They’re speaking in Italian, but the responding voice is English. I crane my neck and listen. It’s coming from my left.