Page 141 of Seeking Vengeance

“Consider it done.” His face tightens, obligation and loyalty staring back at me.

“You know you don’t owe me. You don’t need to be here. Whatever happened in the past has been repaid over the years—”

“I haven’t paid for shit. My debt is still owed. And even if it wasn’t, I’d be here. I have your back. I’ll protect her.” He drags his gaze away to stare out the window.

If I wasn’t a selfish prick, I’d force him to walk. To get the fuck away from all of this.

Too bad I’m the most self-centered bastard he’s ever met.

I can’t risk losing her.

Not to a family I despise or because of the deceit I spun.

She’s mine. Has been from the night we met.

I show my appreciation with a nod, and retrieve folded pieces of paper from my jacket pocket. “These are the house plans for the property. I need you to commit them to memory.”

I slide the pages across the table and wait in silence as he scans the mansion, his concentration heavy as he frowns his way along the multitude of halls and rooms on the multi-level building.

“It’s fucking big.”

“I’ve heard that a time or two,” I drawl. “But it could potentially be bigger. These plans are what I had drawn up after I left Denver. God knows what renovations have been done since.”

He swipes a hand over his mouth as he continues to scan the pages, his focus gradually tracking from one side to the other, over and over until finally, he slides the architectural drawings back toward me. “How many men should we expect to be guarding the property?”

“I don’t know.” The admission annoys me. Weakens. “Emmanuel used to be protective of his solitude, so best-case scenario—none. Worst? God only knows.”

“And you don’t want to bring some of our own?”

“I’ve already made the arrangements. De Marco and two of his team will be waiting. But this isn’t a show of force. It’s a negotiation. A conversation.”

He relaxes back into his seat, unconvinced. “Should I be worried about you reverting to your old ways while holding said conversation?”

The question stings. “I don’t know.”

He nods, unfazed by the complication. “I’ve got one last question, then I’m done.” I brace for impact as he turns his attention to Layla, his eyes callously narrowing. “We protect her with our lives—that much is clear. But who the fuck protects them from her? She’s out for blood just as much as they are.”

“You don’t.” She tilts her head to face us. “You stay out of my way, because I’m more than happy to take you down at the same time.”

Normally, I’d admire her strength. But now, instead of pride, I’m agitated by her tenacity. If she’s here for a misguided chance at revenge, she could get us all killed.

“See?” Bishop drawls. “She’s fucking crazy.”

“She wouldn’t be stupid enough to make a move.” I hold her gaze. “Would you,amore mio?”

Her eyes harden.

“This isn’t a game, Layla. We can’t risk messing this up.”

She rolls her eyes and returns her focus out the jet window, her arms clamping over her chest. But there’s something else I see in her expression before she hides her face from me. Something I hope isn’t pained resignation.

She can’t be willing to give her life to end those of the Costas. Can she?

Fuck.

The rest of the flight is spent relaying tactics for different scenarios, none of which are likely to come true. We land in Denver below a clear blue sky, the fall breeze rushing into the cabin with an icy edge of warning as soon as the door opens.

Bishop is the first to make for the aisle with Layla following.

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