Page 74 of Burn Bag

I scowled at him, about to clip him in the balls and see how he liked it.

“We took precautions,” he said, rolling his eyes at me. “The cages are outfitted with parachutes. All we have to do is toss the fuckers outthe door, activate the parachutes, and we’re in business. Your wife is not going to die in a fiery crash.”

The ache in my chest eased, but only slightly. “I still don’t like it.”

He choked out a laugh, glancing at my wife. “Trust me, if Zoe was here, I’d feel the same way. It’ll be fine.”

“It’ll be fine,” I muttered mockingly as he walked away. “Famous last words.”

“What’s that?” Daphne asked as she snuck up behind me.

Sighing, I rubbed my hand over my face, feeling the stress already building. This trip was going to be the death of me. I knew it. “Listen, I need you to pay attention to everything that’s going on. If I tell you to do something, you do it without question. If I tell you to abandon the cats, you fucking do it.”

Her face creased in worry, but I didn’t let those thoughts linger in her head.

“When we’re on a job, it’s important that everyone follows instructions. Do you understand?”

“Yes, captain,” she saluted, biting back a grin.

“I’m not a captain.”

“Oh…Yes, lieutenant!”

“Daphne—”

“Was that not right either?” she grinned. “I could always call you private.”

My eyes narrowed at her playfulness. “I am most definitely not a private.”

“Well, whatever you want me to call you…” Her eyes widened at the double entendre.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Eli called out, stomping to the back of the plane. “Kavanaugh, sit your pretty wife down and strap her in.”

“Oh, I thought I would sit with the?—”

Her lips snapped shut when I narrowed my eyes at her.

“Right. I’ll just find a seat,” she said, scurrying past me.

How the hell did I end up in this situation? Fucking cats and mywife on the plane…I’d rather be home with the demon cats than here on this flight. Worry ate at my gut just knowing that Max was up there, probably drunk off his ass and about to take us all down. How the hell was I supposed to make it through this flight without puking?

I marched up to the front of the plane, tearing back the plastic shield that used to be there for Scottie, but was now used for Max.

“Listen up,” I snarled, getting in his face. “If you so much as steer us in the wrong direction, I will take out my knife and cut off your balls, and then I’ll mail them home to Christa and bury your body in the desert. Am I fucking clear?”

“How can you be sure we’ll be near a desert?”

“I’ll find one.”

“So, you’ll potentially travel thousands of miles to bury my body in the desert instead of just tossing me out the window for the birds to eat?”

“Would you rather I do that?”

He shrugged noncommittally. “I’m just pointing out the potential flaws of your plan. Seems like an awful lot of travel just to bury something that would probably get eaten by a bear or woodpecker before you found the desert.”

“Woodpeckers don’t eat humans.”

“Well, maybe I found human-eating woodpeckers.”

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