Page 24 of Veil of Vengeance

“Watch her, I need to grab something.” Without another glance our way, Emiliano opens the car door and heads toward the gas station doors.

“Did you kids behave yourselves while I was gone?” Romiro twists himself slightly to face me, his voice light and teasing. I chew on the inside of my mouth to stop myself from smiling.

“Are you always this…weird?”

He almost looks exasperated by the question as he places a hand on his chest as if wounded.

“Are you always this catty?” he rebuttals. I shake my head at his childishness.

“Only to people who kidnap me and try to punish me for the mistakes of others.” My tone is sharp. I tilt my head, trying to get a better sense of what he might be thinking. But Romiro isn’t the easy kind to read. His friendly exterior might somewhat deceive those who aren’t looking deep enough, but behind it, there is an emptiness in his eyes. No, not empty, but almost haunted.

“Well, in our world, there are bound to be those who fall in the middle of conflict. You, unfortunately, are the one to fall in this situation.” He is so dramatic; I’m surprised he didn’t think a stage actor was a more suited job. I roll my eyes at him and lean back into my seat.

“Where are we headed?” I ask while looking out the window. The gas station's parking lot is deserted. The sign reads ‘Rob’s gas station.’ But the only letters that are actually working are ther, one of thea’sand one of thet’s.Rat.

“We’re headed to the airport,” he responds, just as his phone rings and he picks up.

“Yes, Lucio, we're on our way.” He pauses for a minute.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Romiro’s voice is tense, his shoulders brunching up as if ready to fight.

“Right, just wait till Eli and I get there. Don’t make any decisions.” Ending the call, he rubs a hand down his face.

I can see Emiliano leaving the gas station. He has his phone up to his ear, clearly talking to someone. His face is all harsh lines, brow furrowed. He ends the call when he reaches his car door and slides in with the gracefulness of an arctic wolf.

Neither of them speak or even make a sound. Emiliano just starts the car and drives out of the gas station’s parking lot. It doesn’t take long for us to reach the airport. The car doesn’t take the same route as the other cars and heads into a separate lot. I give a tight smile to the man who opens my door.

I can see the change in Romiro’s expression. Becoming more serious, his smile disappearing. Emiliano doesn’t change at all. Unlike Romiro, he doesn’t hide in sheep’s clothing. He carries himself with the knowledge that he is well deserving of his position.

“Is the jet ready?” Romiro’s voice is void of any emotion. It causes a cold shiver to skitter down my spine. A tall woman is the one to answer as we approach the jet.

“Yes, everything is ready for flight.” Emiliano walks toward the stairs that lead up to the jet and Romiro nods. He looks at me and motions for me to walk ahead of him.

I’m reluctant to do so, as my Mom has always told me to not give my back to a predator. Especially one I don’t know what they’re capable of. He takes a couple of steps toward me, just enough so he’s able to whisper.

“I would never hurt you and, this might surprise you, but neither will Eli.” His tone is gentle, and he sounds so convincing, but he’s the enemy. I can’t trust someone who wants to use me as leverage.

I swallow down my fear and move toward the stairs, making sure to grab the railing as I take the steps. There are two flight attendants standing near the door of the aircraft.

Both are smiling and each have their hair in a slick bun. I give them a small smile as I head past them into the jet. The carpet is a soft magenta, and the chairs are a cream leather with brown wood armrests.

Emiliano is already sitting in one of the chairs, typing something on his phone. I decide to go to the chairs farthest away from him. Romiro looks between the two of us and seems to decide he wants to sit next to me. He flashes a smile as he plops into the seat opposite mine.

“Go away.” I really want to be left alone. I’d rather sit by myself than sit with the clown of the Camorra, but he doesn’t seem to mind my disdain.

“No, I think I’d like to stay.”

The corners of my eyes tighten as I narrow them at him.

“How old are you?” I ask.

“Twenty-seven, you?” he replies. Great, I am surrounded by two men in their late twenties. One who has the emotional intelligence of a rock and the other has the mental age of a twelve-year-old.

“I’m twenty-one.”

He nods and turns to look at one of the flight attendants.

“Emilia, I’d like a Cosmo. Please,” he orders.

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