Page 16 of Extradition (Mobsters + Billionaires 1)
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this? How do we get to your helicopter?”
Fucking helicopter. What planet is this douche from?
“I…I don’t know. We need to go around to the front.”
“We don’t fucking have time,” I grit out, banging on the glass. “And keep your mouth closed.”
Luck is on my side for the first time all day, and a trim man with little hair and a military bearing walks into the hallway on the other side of the door. Wolfe raises his hand, signaling him. Mr. Military’s expression could melt steel as he swings open the door and pulls us into the building.
“Mr. Wolfe, sir. I’ve been looking for you. We’ve got new information on the Portelli family…” he says, his voice drifting off as he notices me. His eyes harden. “And who are you?”
The fuck?
“Who am I? I’m the dumb fuck who just put a fucking target on my back to get this asshole out of here in one fucking piece. Who the fuck are you?”
He blinks, taken aback by the storm of fucks, I’m sure. After a hot second, he straightens and answers my question.
“I’m the pilot, retired Army. And what do you mean, get him out of here in one piece?”
“Yes, what do you mean?” Wolfe says, still no fucking clue.
I turn to him, dumbfounded. “Are you even aware of the world outside of your corner office?”
He opens his mouth to protest, but my phone buzzes right on time. I hold up my finger, and he snaps his mouth shut.
Good boy.
Sally: Where the fuck are you? This should not be taking that long.
Sally: What, are you giving him a blowjob?
Sally: Do it and get back here. Babbo wants an update.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hold up my phone so he and Mr. Be All You Can Be over here can see where we’re sitting.
Retired Army assesses me with a curled lip. “Babbo? Who is your father?”
“Salvatore Portelli Senior.”
He lets out a low whistle and grabs Wolfe by the arm, walking him toward the interior of the building. I have no choice but to follow. We bypass the elevators and take the stairs.
“Will someone explain what the hell is going on?” Wolfe asks, practically dripping with annoyance and self-importance.
Still dragging him up the stairs, Army grunts out, “You’ll get an explanation once we’re airborne. Are we taking Portelli with us, or are we leaving him here?”
“We can’t kidnap him.”
“He stays, he dies. And we can’t assume they don’t have the weaponry to take out the helo, so we need to take off before they know what’s going on.” Turning to me, he asks, “How long before he comes out to investigate? Can you stall him?”
“He’s impatient but not that smart. How much time do you need to get off the ground?”
“What is going on? Why would he die?” Wolfe asks, clueless as a little lamb.
Helo Guy grimaces, ignoring Wolfe’s question as he addresses me. “I had to turn off the engine when Edgerton told me to check on Mr. Wolfe. I try to baby the engines on these luxury sky yachts, but I can get us up in three minutes if I push it.” Turning to Wolfe, he says seriously, “Sir, while this isn’t particularly unsafe, it is not good for the longevity of your helo. I would suggest a series of diagnostics when we get back, and those are quite expensive.”
Wolfe looks at him with alarm and confusion. “I’m sure I can afford it. But you still haven’t answered my question. Why would Portelli die if he chooses not to go with us?”
“Sir, this man’s father is the head of the Portelli family.”
