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Cameron

Ahammerpoundedinsidemy skull. My entire body ached. I was tired. Bone weary tired. I tried to lift my heavy lids because the incessant churning in my gut told me something was very wrong.

Oh, my God.

The crash!

My eyes snapped open and a sharp pain lanced through my temple. As my blurry vision adjusted, the ache subsided to tolerable thumping.

The last thing I remembered was a black sedan ramming Shep’s truck. It hadn’t even attempted to brake or swerve.

Franky had caught us.

I guessed that went some way to explaining why I sat opposite a balding, middle-aged man in a private jet. He stared daggers at me over the rim of his whiskey tumbler. Shouldn’t I be the one pissed about this situation?

The anger in his eyes made me squirm in the large leather seat.Dammit!My wrists were tied to the armrests. I willed my galloping heart to calm down. My gaze darted between the restraints and Baldy. His lips twisted into a menacing grin. If he was anything like Pauly, this would be an airplane ride I’d sooner forget.

Whatever happened between the crash and now was a total blank. How long had I been unconscious? And where was Shep? Was he still alive? My breathing came in short, shallow pants.

Stop it!

I couldn’t let panic take over. Not when I needed my wits about me.

A deep voice boomed from the back of the plane. “Hey Lou, you got any more of that sedative? The big fucker’s coming around.”

Shep was alive. Thank God! Knowing that allowed me to reel in some of my anxiety.

The man across from me, Lou, rested his drink on the table between us and stood. He removed a vial from his pants pocket, then headed down the aisle. Stuck in my seat, I craned my neck to follow his movements. In the back row sat Shep, eyes closed, his head bobbing as he tried to gain control. Next to him was a brawny, caramel-skinned man who reminded me of The Rock.

No sign of Justin on board, not that I expected to see him. I clung to a glimmer of hope that Franky didn’t have him, even though that seemed like a fool’s wish.

When he returned to his seat, Lou resumed glaring at me. I stared out the window to avoid his gaze. We were above the clouds and the setting sun sat low in the sky. There was only one place we’d be heading. Back to Philly. Back to where it all began.

The ache at the side of my head made me think I’d taken a decent bump in the crash. The skin there felt tight and crusty, probably dried blood.

“You gonna need any of this?” Lou’s voice drew my attention. He held up the half-empty vial and shook it. “Nah. Little thing like you won’t give us any trouble, will you?” He smirked before taking a sip of his drink.

No trouble? Like hell.

To pass the time, I imagined all the ways I could be a pain in his ass. Stabbing him in the eye with the pen in his pocket. Slamming his caveman forehead onto the table between us. Pitching the whiskey tumbler at his smug face. Nope. No trouble at all.

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable under Lou’s scowling stare.

He pointed at me with the hand holding the whiskey. “You and that son of a bitch” —he gestured toward Shep— “killed my cousin and a friend of mine.”

I sat up straight and glared right back at him. “Given they tried to kill me first, I’d say they had it coming.”

He took a slow sip, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m gonna enjoy seeing what the boss does with you two. Might even let me help.” He arched one brow. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

A shiver rippled through me. I didn’t want to meet Franky, but being tied to the chair and with Shep unconscious, I couldn’t see a way of getting out of it. I’d keep trying, though.

If Lou wanted to talk, I had questions. “How did you find us?” I really wanted to know if my brother was in the hands of a double-crosser.

“Why should I tell you?”

“I’ll be dead before the day is through, so what does it matter?”