Page 89 of Lash

We all add our voices to Chance's reassurance, and then Beatriz, Little Lorenzo, and Big Lorenzo climb into the little aircraft. We move out of the way as the pilot taxis to the nearby runway, pauses for clearance, and then takes off.

Once the airplane is out of sight, we circle up.

"So," Saxon says, breaking the silence. "There goes our guide. We have no fuckin' clue where Mercado took Inez. Two of us are walking wounded. We won't all fit in that Suburban and the Technical is shot to shit."

Silas slugs his brother in the arm. "Helpful assessment, Sax. Thanks for that."

"Oh fuck off, Si," Saxon snarls. "Gotta face facts so we can plan accordingly."

"Right, because you're the tactical genius of the family," Silas shoots back.

"Shut the fuck up, both of you!” Solomon yells. "You two are like toddlers, sometimes. Jesus."

"He's not wrong though, Si," Rev says. “Shit is pretty hairy right now. We need a plan."

Silas turns away, passing his hand through his air. "Fuck. Sorry, Sax. I’m fuckin' exhausted and I miss Naomi. And honestly, I'm over this shit. It's fuckin' stressful."

Saxon laughs. "All good, man. I feel ya. I used to live for this shit, and now it's like…" The humor saps out of him abruptly. He shakes his head. "I guess now that I've got something—someone—to live for, I find myself caring a whole fuckuva lot more whether I live or die."

"We were talking about that on the way here," Kane says. "I'm over this shit. Ready to stand around with my thumb up my ass in Club Sin, watchin’ dumb fucks get fucked up."

Sol nods. "I think we all feel that way. All the more reason to get Inez, take out Mercado, and go home."

"So, how do we find her?" I ask. "Mercado has many resources. They could be anywhere by now."

"Rafael is paranoid," Scarlett says. "According to what Inez and Lorenzo said, at least. He wouldn't go just anywhere. He'd go somewhere he feels secure."

"Another house?" Rev asks. "Motherfucker has more money than god. He'sgotto have property somewhere else."

Solomon snaps his fingers, pointing at Rev. "That's it! Lemme call Ren real quick." He dials a number and puts it on speaker.

Lorenzo answers after two rings, his voice muffled and nearly drowned out by the roar of the propeller. "You are calling me already?"

"Where would Rafael go?" Solomon asks. "He’s paranoid about security. He wouldn't just drive aimlessly around the Brazilian countryside."

"Ah, this is true, yes." A moment of silence as he thinks. "Perhaps the old de Silva estate. I will send you the coordinates. It is the most likely possibility."

"Thanks, Ren."

"Of course. I will find the coordinates and send them to you."

A few minutes later, Solomon's phone dings with an incoming message. He puts the coordinates into the phone's GPS app and spends a moment or two examining the results.

"Well," Solomon says, "it's a big fuckin' place outside Rio de Janeiro. Set on some pretty wicked elevation, with only one route in or out. No walls, but the location they chose meant they didn't need them."

"So, another suicide mission assault," Chance grumbles. "Sweet. Love that for us."

"And since Inezisthe mission," Rev adds, "we don't have oversight."

“No point bitching about it," Kane growls. “Let's just figure out a fucking plan and go. He had to scramble to get the fuck outta dodge before we hit him, so how likely is that he has a full roster with him?”

"No way to know what he can pull off last minute," I say. "I think our only option is to go there, do some recon, and devise a plan from there. We have zero intel at this time, so any plan would be riddled with flaws.”

Silas points at me. "Lash is right." He furrows his brow. "Sorry—Nicolae.

I wave him off. "It will take time. Also, you are all my brothers, so call me Nico. But Lash will work fine if you forget."

"I agree," Solomon says. "But the issue we face now is that Rio is a long ass fuckin' way from here." He manipulates his nav app. "Sixteen-plus hour drive."