Page 116 of Savage Enemy

“Use my plane. Nothing special, but it’ll fit ten men. It’s housed at a private airstrip about forty-five minutes outside of the city. I can arrange a flight in minutes. Just need to know what time you want to take off.”

I studied him. “What do you want from me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what the fuck do you want from me? Nothing comes without a price. So what’s yours?”

Angelo shrugged. “How about dinner.”

I couldn’t have heard that right.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, when you get back, invite me to dinner at your home, so we can talk business privately.”

“Why my home?”

“Because, like you said, the walls in these restaurants have ears. And right now I’m unsure about who I can trust even in my own home. Give me one hour of your time, that’s all I ask. We discuss a little business, and if we come to a mutually beneficial arrangement, great. If not, we part as friends.”

“So you’re saying you’ll lend me your plane just for sitting through your timeshare pitch?”

Angelo laughed. “That about sums it up.”

He pulled out his phone and held his QR code against my screen, putting his contact information into my phone.

“Text me with the time you’d like the pilot to be ready for takeoff, and I’ll set it up. Hell, I’ll even throw in some SUVs at the airstrip in Chicago.”

“Fuck that. It’s not safe to use rented vehicles in a city where you’re not permitted to visit,” I said.

“I use a private security service,” he said, implying it might be the simplest thing in the world to do.

Maybe so, but I didn’t trust him.

Still, I needed to get to Val before it was too late, and he only wanted a brief sit down at my home in return. If he pulled anything at that time, I would just kill him.

I checked the time. Already 7:30 p.m.

“It takes forty-five minutes to get to the airstrip?”

Angelo nodded.

“Have the plane ready for me by 9:00 p.m.”

I got on my feet for the first time since Lordi’s hack job.

Light-headed, a bit unsteady, but the haze cleared quickly.

I extended my left hand and grasped Angelo’s for a firm shake, shoved my arms into my jacket sleeves, and walked into the restaurant like nothing had ever happened.

Tony sat in a red faux-leather booth with an untouched glass of wine in front of him. When he saw me, his face twisted, and he jumped up from the bench seat. Then his expression went from concerned to murderous in less than ten seconds.

I must have looked as bad as my fucking hand felt.

“What the fuck happened in there, Stef?”

I walked past him. “Not here, Tony. In the car.”

We made a quick stop to get our weapons before exiting through the side door. Tony started the Maybach’s engine while staring at me in the rearview mirror.

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