2
Rafael
Joaquin drove the armored car along the back roads, making his way toward the airstrip as fast as he dared. Tucked far enough away from the city center, the private airport was off the beaten path enough to be inconvenient in an emergency, but no one could deny how handy it was for making deliveries of weapons or drugs.
Blood and ash covered my suit, drenching the fabric in a way that might have made a lesser man feel queasy. If it had only been the blood of my enemies, I might have reveled in the feel of it against my skin and the knowledge that I’d put an end to the torment of their existence.
Instead, all I felt was dread for Isa and what was yet to come. She still didn’t know the truth of all that I’d done and of all that she’d lost in the span of an hour.
The plane came into view the moment Joaquin guided the car around the corner, barreling through the open gates and speeding toward where Ryker’s van waited next to my plane. Matteo and Gabriel stood beside it, watching us approach, not flinching when Joaquin hit the brakes closer to them than most men would be comfortable.
He was out the driver’s side door as quickly as I was, going for his brother and shoving him backward with a hand on each shoulder. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled.
“It was a solid plan,” Gabriel defended, raising his hands. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“And what if they’d aimed for my head?” Joaquin asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “The vest wouldn’t have done much good.”
“It was a risk.” Gabriel shrugged. “It was supposed to be me, but you insisted—”
“Because I am Isa’s personal guard. Don’t you think they might find it odd if I’m not by her side in an emergency?” Joaquin shook his head, shoving his younger brother toward the plane entrance. “Get the fuck inside.”
Gabriel stood his ground, refusing to allow the brother who’d raised him continue telling him what to do, as Ryker lowered himself out of the driver’s seat of his van. He chuckled looking between the two. “Kind of makes me glad I killed my brother,” he muttered, turning an amused grin my way.
I didn’t return it, focusing my attention on the back doors of the van. Ryker took the hint that I didn’t have time for games, grabbing his keys from his pocket and moving for the lock without another word.
As soon as he hauled the doors open, he hopped into the back of the van with agility that should have been impossible considering his muscle mass. Timofey grunted in pain as Ryker grabbed him by the scruff, tossing him forward until the man fell to the ground at my feet.
Tilting my head to the side and staring down at him, I took pleasure in the fact that his body was so broken, so much thinner than it had been when he’d tried to kill my wife. His face contorted as he rose up the best he could, glaring at me as I pulled the pistol from the back of my pants. “Your brother was looking for you.”
He huffed a bitter laugh. “Because that’s what real family does. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
“I understand just fine. You’re the one who has the misconception that I was ever my father’s son,” I said, tilting my head to the other side. “Dima would kill you in a heartbeat if he thought it bettered his position with your father. Not that it matters anymore.”
“What piece will you send back to my father to prove you’ve killed me? Will it be my head? My tattoo?” he asked, and only the slight quiver in his voice betrayed the fear he felt knowing the devil had finally come to take him to Hell.
“I haven’t decided yet. Any requests?” I asked, earning a chuckle from Ryker as he sat on the bumper.
“Go fuck yourself,” Timofey spat, twisting his lips into a grimace.
Apparently giving your victim the choice of which part of his body was sawed off went too far. I shrugged, pressing the barrel of the gun against his forehead and pulling the trigger. Blood splattered the ground behind him as it went through, his eyes going void immediately. The last thing the little bastard saw was my face, and that fact brought me some satisfaction.
That satisfaction wouldn’t shift to content until the moment when Pavel and all his sons were wiped from existence.
“Put him on ice. I’ll call you once Pavel realizes he got the wrong twin. Then you can pick a body part to send him and burn the rest,” I ordered Ryker. He hauled the corpse back into his van, tossing him in with a firm shove and relocking the back doors.
“I’m so fucking tired of looking at his face, I just might peel it off and send that,” he grunted, the sound trailing into a laugh when I shrugged. Only Ryker had the patience to peel off a man’s skin and keep an entire face intact. I had to admire his craftsmanship.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a little fucked up?” I asked, turning and making my way to the plane when Ryker’s face split into a satisfied grin at what he considered a compliment. Matteo nodded as I passed, our brief tiff over the way I’d treated Isa seemingly forgotten.
“Keep her safe,” he said as I made my way up the steps.
As if I needed the goddamn reminder.