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“Nic’ll be wheels down in—” Cash checked his watch “—thirty-three minutes. You think you fucks could hurry the hell up?”
Watching Jared and Roman dillydally punched at his patience. They were a five minute drive from their rendezvous point, another five minutes to get into position and watch Nicola deplane with that piece of shit, double-dealing butler. The rest of that time made him vibrate with impatience.
Cash was armed to the teeth. More than armed. He could outfit a third-world tribe with enough brass to create a serious change in the balance of power, and that was only what he had strapped to him. The Hummer’s trunk told a whole other story.
Jared looked him over, boots to collar, and grumbled. “You plan on redefining the word overkill? We’re backup. We’re not storming an Iranian missile silo.”
Can never be too prepared, or some Boy Scout shit like that.He’d been to the site twice today, walked the perimeter, memorized every outbuilding, every hangar, nook, and cranny. If someone was there who shouldn’t be, if something moved that wasn’t supposed to, Cash might shoot first and ask questions later. He’d let Jared deal with the nuclear-fallout-sized headache and handle the question-and-answer portion of their day. That’s why boss man made the really big dollars: to fix whatever wrongs Cash was very ready to do.
“Get your asses in the rig. Let’s go.” Cash ran through his mental checklist and jumped in. Rolling the window down, he circled his hand. “Now.”
Shit.Giving orders to Jared was as smart as licking an electrical socket during a hurricane. Not the cleverest idea he’d had all day. No worries, though. He had some brilliant beauties ready to make up for it. First, his dead-dropped listening devices were stashed in either of the private hangars Nic’s jet could pull into. Second, he had a remote and a recorder running already. He’d hear everything in his earpiece, as would Jared and Roman, and it’d all be transmitted to Titan HQ, where Parker, their techie genius, would save it to hard drives or computers or whatever.
Jared and Roman re-checked the last of their gear and joined him.Finally.
They sped down the back road to the private airport where her plane was expected. It was easy to have the flight rerouted away from the public airport, even if it had a chartered section.Nothing like Jared’s rolodex of people who owe him favors.They were able to amend flight plans mid-journey. Their vehicle moved through security, passing without a single curious glance. They simply rolled up, and the gates rolled open. The officers manning the station even made it a point to look the other direction.
With the stealthy efficiency of men trained in the art of camouflage, the three moved to their designated spot inside a hangar. Small windows allowed a view of the runway, the secondary hangar, and their position could survey all exits. A solid location, if there was one, to set up for a game of wait-and-watch.
Cash’s trigger finger curled, relaxed, then repeated.Too bad waiting blows. The beat of his fingers kept pace with his nerves. Drumming wasn’t helping him, but he kept at it.Shit.He was a sniper. His bread and butter came from lying in wait. The only difference was that he waited for Nicola instead of a moving target. He thought of David. Well, not a target he could take out right now.
“Calm your shit,” Jared growled at him. He’d been growling all day. “Roman’s holding his shit together. You can too.”
Roman rolled his angry eyes. Cash knew his spotter better than anyone in the world. Roman was on the edge, a nasty word away from cutting everyone’s throat open with a butter knife.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
Jared lifted his chin. “What’s doing?”
Cash studied the alarm reading. “Perimeter’s broken in Hangar B.”
Roman spoke up and put his ear bud in. “I cleared it this morning with Cash. No personnel expected in for the day. Nothing’s scheduled.”
Cash and Jared copied Roman, sliding their earpieces into place. Heavy footfalls clunked, echoing in their ears.
Cash mouthed to the men across from him, “that’s a man’s step.” They nodded their agreement. A cell phone rang into their earpieces. A man’s voice. “Hello.”
The tick, tick, tick of time passed as Cash counted seconds in his head. Who was in there?
“No,” the baritone in their ear pieces continued. “No. You tell him that Emilio Gianori gave that order. My name will make him piss himself. And if he dares slink away from a direct order from me, you tell him to kiss his wife and children goodbye.”
If they laid a finger on Nic, Cash would use them for target practice, working his way from the outside in.Feet and hands, knee caps and elbows. Balls to breastbone.
Nicola needed to know what she was walking into. He’d been out of communication for an hour. Her burner phone wasn’t connecting no matter how many times he tried to call.
Using hand signals, Jared told them both to sit tight, keep listening.
Cash raised an inch, readying to… to do something. Jared pointed at him and slashed at his throat. It wouldn’t be a stretch for someone else to also bug this private airport. And considering they had Titan Group, the CIA, and the Gianori mob all in play right now, it was a reasonable assumption.
Emilio Gianori’s cell phone rang again. Another hello. Another round of threats.The prick must suffer from a Napoleon complex and have an inch long dick for all the bitching and whining about his super-duper special outlaw powers.
The mobster continued. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve wasted my day chasing after a fool, one airport to the next. Think before you speak. What do you mean the truck blew up without the man inside it?”
Oh, fuck you! That prick stuffed C-4 into the undercarriage and hot seated his ride? He’d pay for that shit and for the freakin’ headache Cash got explaining— or rather not explaining— how his truck blew sky high and didn’t have a corresponding police report. Not even a blurb on the local news. All the patrons at the Granville had been more than happy to take some cold hard Benjamins to forget they saw anything.Amazing how much moolah Jared carries.
Jared’s eyes steeled. A direct non-verbal order: don’t move.Well, don’t forget who’s armed to the eyebrows and itching to brawl.
Gianori couldn’t keep his mouth shut.Good for him.“What about the second package?”