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He turned, looking up at her standing in the plane’s doorway.
Then his gaze shifted to Juan.
Puzzlement, disbelief, shock…
Each emotion flitted across his face in rapid succession.
He lifted his hand. A plea. “Juan,primo,what are you doing?”
The silenced shot sounded like a muffled crack, but it echoed in the cavernous space of the hangar.
Emilio froze, his grip on her arm going slack.
For a moment, nothing made sense.
Then Vincente’s knees buckled. He collapsed in slow motion, his body thudding against the concrete floor.
The smell of gunpowder—sharp and acrid—hit her nose. Then the horribly familiar metallic tang of blood.
Gia screamed as her world slammed back into real time.
Her gaze flew to Juan.
For one brief second, regret tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Then his expression shuttered.
“I wasn’t sure you would do it.” Ramón’s calm delivery shot ice through Gia’s veins.
“My loyalty is to you,Papá. It always has been.” Juan stood rigid, but Gia saw the slight tremor in his fingers, the quiet exhale that slipped past his lips.
He swung toward Matteo.
Lifted his weapon again.
She thought she heard him murmur,Lo siento, amigo, before he fired again.
Gia’s knees buckled, as if the bullet that struck Matteo had torn through her instead.
Emilio yanked her inside the cabin and let go.
“¡Dios mío!”His hands plunged into his hair as he paced the aisle before collapsing into a seat, his gaze unfocused.
Up front, the two pilots sat frozen.
“Call someone,” she hissed. “You have a radio. Use it.”
The pilot glanced at her, fear and regret clouding his eyes. He reached back and slid the panel shut, separating the cockpit from the cabin.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She had the urge to kick that panel in. Drag them from their seats and—
Then what?
She didn’t know how to fly a plane or even work the radio.
There was only one option left.
“Hey!” Gia marched over to Emilio and shook his shoulder. “Listen to me. We have to get out of here before they kill us, too.”