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THE RACE

Tripoli

T ripoli and Cosmos used the fire ladder to dodge Cruz and the rest of the official law enforcement who had stormed the building through the front door of the club. Triumph was waiting for them in the alley with Tripoli’s Mustang.

“The signal is steady. They’re in the FairSkies hangar at San Antonio International.”

“That’s brave,” Cosmos admitted.

“Cornered, more likely, and no other options,” Triumph suggested.

Tripoli stayed silent as he sped through the streets. With the bulk of San Antonio’s finest pointed at the club, he was hoping not to run into any of the Blue Line on his way to the airport. He didn’t dare push the Mustang much past a hundred miles per hour, even with the freeway as quiet as it was at the moment. He couldn’t believe their luck at the low level of traffic. At least something was going right tonight.

Cosmos voiced his confusion. “I don’t understand why her father went to these lengths to get rid of her. Even if he didn’t have one of the brothers do it, you can’t tell me he couldn’t have hired a hit on her.”

“Or hire someone else to actually place the hit,” Triumph said. “Then both he and the brothers would have at least one degree of separation from the act.”

Tripoli forced out, “The guy is batshit crazy. That’s why.”

Swerving between two semis, Tripoli divided his attention between driving and the minutes in his apartment before Francesca was taken. The middle brother of the triplets had come in through the window and was waiting for him. They’d traded punches. Well, he’d thrown three before Mannix threw one that rang his bell, then spun Tripoli around into a chokehold. With a few brief sentences, Mannix had made the world spin.

He could have let the FBI handle the situation. Unfortunately, it would take them too long to locate her, and there would be too much procedure to work through. Tripoli knew there was little to no time, given Oisin’s plans. It was up to him, Cosmos, his security team, Triumph, and their friends from Los Angeles to rescue her.

“Cosmos. Hit speed dial three on my phone.”

Two rings later, Lobo was on the call. He didn’t need to ask what Tripoli wanted. “Hangar Six. Father, a woman I don’t recognize, the three brothers, Francesca, and we count six flunkies. There’s also a pilot in the hangar, but I think he’s there under duress. He’s readying a plane. However, if I were to hazard a guess, he’s dragging his feet as much as he can.”

“Thanks. We’re less than five out.”

“Copy that. We’ll wait for you unless we can’t.”

“What’s the plan, Trip?” Triumph asked.

“I need you to stay with the car. Monitor that frequency. If it moves locally, I need you to follow it, even if we can’t go with you. If they manage to take off with her, I need your skills to follow that plane, and we hope they don’t dump her out the door somewhere along the way back home.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “If shit goes sideways, get out of there. No sense in all of us going down.”

“First part, no problem. Second part is going to be more difficult. I’ll make a decision at the time of.”

Cosmos looked up from his phone, where he was getting ready to contact his men who had slipped away from the club and were a mile behind them. “Where do you need us?”

“I need Hubble up high somewhere on the airstrip. We’ve got to keep that plane on the ground at all costs. He might need to shoot out tires, an engine, hell… maybe the pilot. Whatever it takes to keep her on the ground.”

“And the rest of us?”

“I need you to take care of the flunkies, as well as get that pilot out of there if you can. Not sure if any of the brothers or Oisin can fly a plane. Let’s hope not.”

“What about the brothers?”

“They’ll do their best to keep things from progressing. I’ll take care of Oisin and Francesca.”

By this time, Tripoli had come up to the parking lot for the private hangars at the airport. As he exited the car, there were a series of pops, and the lights in the lot went dark.

“Jesus, they were a mile behind us. How did he catch up so fast?” Tripoli asked.

“Hubble has a buddy down here who loves fast cars. I don’t even want to know what that’s going to cost me.”

Pulling a black balaclava over his blond head and pulling on a pair of thin leather gloves, Tripoli checked his weapons. Cosmos put on a black ball cap, jogged to the trunk of the car, popped it, and pulled out a rifle, proceeding to load it and dump extra rounds into his pockets. Triumph climbed into the front seat, his laptop showing that Francesca was still where she had been for the last hour and a half.

“As soon as your job is done, get out of here. Don’t worry about me. I’ll meet you back at the club when I can. If I get arrested, my attorney will call you.”

“Don’t get dead, yourself.”

Tripoli nodded. “You either. This isn’t your fight.”

“She’s yours. That makes it my fight. But… one thing. I texted you a number. Just in case something does happen to me, I need you to call that number. It goes to a girl named Abigail.”

Tripoli raised an eyebrow.

“My alibi. I wouldn’t want her to think that I abandoned her or something.”

“I’ve got you covered, but I’m not going to have to call her.”

Hubble and the rest of Cosmos’ team arrived, black clothing and caps in place. With a nod to the men and a fist bump to his friend, the men were off and running.

Less than fifteen minutes later, the group had entered the hangar and were engaged in a fire battle with Oisin’s crew. The men were better shots than Tripoli expected. One of Cosmos’ crew managed to get the pilot out of the line of fire, then joined back into the fray. Unfortunately, another took a shot to the leg, and he had to be tourniqueted and dragged out of the hangar.

Tripoli could see Oisin in the office with Francesca. She was so fucking strong. Once again, her whole world was being turned upside down, yet she was a powerhouse. He couldn’t be prouder, but he also couldn’t be more scared because he knew that strength was likely leading her to make a dangerous choice.

As he attempted to cross the hangar along the outside wall toward the office, he ran into one of Oisin’s goons. He was fucked. There was no way he could get his gun up in time before the man pulled the trigger. Suddenly, there was a single shot, and a red star formed in the center of his forehead. He toppled at Tripoli’s feet. Whipping around, Tripoli saw a man with a wrapped, bloody shoulder about ten feet behind him, lowering his weapon with the opposite arm. Fionn. The man simply nodded at him. With a salute of thanks, Tripoli turned and continued his journey to the office window.

Oisin was paying no attention to what was going on. Probably assumed his sons were taking care of the firefight. His assumptions would have been wrong. They’d been helping pick off the crew and clearing the path for Tripoli to get to Francesca. If necessary, one of them would take the shot against their father, but Tripoli was their buffer for now.