Page 129 of King of Omen

‘I’ve sent a car to track them, and my people report that your SUV was just spotted by my crew, who gave chase. The assailants have panicked and are racing to the private jet airfield, so we’re checking the planes there to see who he’s trying to reach. But for now, he’s spooked, driving dangerously, and we need him off the roads.’

‘I have to go after her,’ I growled. ‘I can’t sit here doing shit when she’s out there.’

Saint sliced his eyes to me. ‘I respect that. I’d run to the ends of the world for my woman.’

He rose to his feet. ‘With me.’ Saint announced, his voice rumbling and intense. ‘We need to motor.’

‘Alessio, stay behind with Mauri while Saint and I head after Mia,’ I barked to my brother.

I chugged down my coffee and, giving Alessio a nod, followed the Maori hulk out of his workspace. He slowed at his woman’s doorway.

‘Got to dash, mama,’ he rasped.

His woman gave him a soft look and sliced her eyes to what I hadn’t spotted before. A stroller was parked in one corner of her office.

Inside was nestled the sweetest-looking baby, and I melted.

‘See you at home,’ Saint’s woman murmured.

They exchanged a hot look I envied, aching for Mia.

I nodded to a resting Mauri.

Alessio turned to me, placing his hand on my arm. ‘In bocca al lupo,’ he whispered. ‘May you escape the mouth of the wolf,’ wishing me luck.

I jerked my chin in acknowledgement and strode after the fast-vanishing Sovereign leviathan, moving with silent menace through his office.

Chapter 25

LORENZO

We slid into Saint’s sports SUV in minutes, snaking through gridlock.

‘I appreciate this,’ I rasped.

He gave me a silent nod. ‘No need for thanks, just pay the invoice.’

I caught a lilt in his voice as, for a second, a spark of playfulness leaked from his otherwise chiselled, closed-off face.

‘Reach behind you,’ he murmured.

Curious, I glanced at him but did as he asked, finding a medium-sized bag on the seat.

‘Gun, bulletproof vest, wear them,’ Saint demanded.

Raising a brow, I slid the knapsack close and did as commanded, surmising it’d be no use arguing with his alpha energy, which almost trumped my own.

This was no time for a pissing contest.

I shed my jacket and tee, strapped into the high-end ballistic-level covert armour and redressed.

Next, I made a thorough prelim check on the Glock 19 weapon I found in the same duffel, screwing on its silencer.

‘Done,’ I huffed as I settled back, eyes on Saint’s dexterity as he dived into the traffic and weaved the car through the thick congestion.

Saint’s crew called him in moments, and he spoke into his earpiece in a low hush.

‘The vehicle has stopped at a small motel near the airport and parked in its underground garage,’ he informed me. ‘My team has just arrived to case the place out.’

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