Page 21 of Hell In A Handbasket
“Er… Like that one over there?” I catch the sparkle of sunlight bouncing off the tail of a sleek black jet, screaming along the runway. It takes off and soars toward the sun, turning just as soon as it’s high enough and heading east…back to New York?I look at Archer and frown. “Am I hallucinating, or?”
“Definitely not hallucinating.” His brows knit and form deep lines between his eyes. Then he looks at Tim. “Call him.”
He nods, dropping their bags at his feet and taking out his phone.
“How many planes were built that look exactly like Felix’s?” I lean into Archer’s chest and study the airfield—the cow field, mostly—for a familiar face that isn’t Cato, Fletch, or Tim. “Could it be a coincidence?”
“Finally! You’re here!” Felix stomps out of the shack-like terminal in suit pants and a black vest over a white shirt, his sleeves rolled up and dark hair that is typically slicked back, not nearly as smooth as usual. “Fuck me,” he growls, stalking closer. “I was ready to tear this town apart to look for you. How did we arrive first when you took off first?”
“Uh…” Cato steps in front of his brother. “Why are you here, Lix?”
“Why areyouhere?” He grabs his baby brother and yanks him in for a hug, slapping his back and slamming a noisy kiss to his cheek. Then he pushes him back and comes for Archer next. “Why’d it take so long for you to arrive? We’ve been here an hour already.”
“I’m confused.” I shake my head and glance back at the building Felix came out of, the glass walls making it easy to see inside, and get caught up in a Malone glare. “Micah’s here, too? What the hell is going on?”
“Solomon called and said you were in danger.” He moves to Tim last, tugging Aubree in until they become a threesome of rough hands and a grunt—Aubree’s—of unhappiness. “She said you were coming out here for some case that’s gonna get you killed.”
“What?” Archer shoves me behind his back and slaps a hand to his hip. His unarmed hip. “What the fuck?”
“I don’t know, Arch!” Felix hands his brother a gun so fast, so smoothly, no one on the outside could have possibly seen it disappear into the back of his jeans. “I was enjoying my morning of coffee and Christabelle when that fucking ballerina called and said shit was going down.”
“What shit?”
“I don’t know! She said you were unsafe and that they were getting in their cars and heading across to meet you.”
“Sophia’s on her way?” My heart thrums at a heady pace, and my eyes go to the runway. Though, duh, she’s not driving onto that. “She brought us here. She didn’t mention danger.”
“She’s noton her way,” Felix snarls. “She’s here!”
“You just said?—”
“She sent you into this fucking war and thinks she can arrive a day after you hit the front lines? No fucking chance.” He points back toward the terminal windows. “We swung by and picked her and her men up on the way past. That’s how I keep my family safe. I bring the asshole with the matchesintothe fire.”
“So where is she now?” Tim holds Aubree close, half hidden behind his broad back. “We just saw your plane leave.”
“Plane had to go. Because it was an unscheduled trip or some shit, she said it was drawing too much heat. I’ll call it back when we’re ready to leave.”
“And Sophia?” I ask. “Where is she now?”
“Out the front organizing a ride. She had her men unload the plane and bring it all around front.”
“Unload what?” Archer snarls. “What’d she bring?”
“Guns, Arch! I don’t know. A fucking missile launcher, maybe. She had crates loaded up during our stopover, then they were off again, and now she’s barking orders to her soldiers to transfer things carefully.”
Tim growls. “So Mayet takes a call and accepts a case, on Solomon’s word, gets on a plane to no-fucking-where, no questions asked. Then you,” he looks to Felix, “also take a call from Solomon, accept her word that something’s going down, lend her the family plane to transport fuck-knows-what across the country—no paperwork, no official records—and now she’s nowhere to be found?”
I squint and stare through the glass walls, narrowing my eyes at my new view when Micah shifts to the left. “Christabelle is here?” I step away from Archer and start toward the terminal. “You brought Christabelle?”
“She wouldn’t stay behind!” Felix turns on a dime and runs to catch up, his long stride making it easy, and his broad shoulder touching mine as he matches my pace. “Mayet, she’s eight months along and scaring the shit out of me. She refused to stay in New York, and I couldn’t just ignore what Sophia was telling me.”
“She said your family was in danger. She pressed your buttons, knowing the outcome she’d get.”
“I think Christabelle is gonna have that baby soon,” he groans. “She’s in pain but won’t admit it. I think the flight made it worse.”
“There’s absolutelynoevidence that air travel harms pregnancy in any way. If she’s in pain, it’s probably because of the stress of a cross-country dash at the last-minute.” I yank the terminal door open and step out of the heat and into cool air, then I brush past a stony-faced Micah and stop in front of Christabelle. “Are you having your baby?”
She slouches on the chair and drops her head back. “I’m not having my baby.”
