And I know what’s coming. He’ll keep the door open and watch me, but I don’t have a choice. I have to be 100 percent on my game when we land, so I can assess what’s really happening with Sara and Kayden. When I have the chance to kill and not be killed.
I turn and walk to the back, looking for any small weapon I can discreetly latch on to. But the walk is short and there’s not even a pen or pencil I could jab in his neck or better yet, his groin.
Instead, I endure the bumps and shifts of the plane as I go to the bathroom with Neuville watching, absolute sadistic enjoyment in his expression as I do. That bothers me more than him looking at me naked, but by the time I’m back in my seat, strapped in, with him directly in front of me, I’m just ready to be out of this steel prison and on the ground. The sensation of the wheels hitting the pavement promises me that he’s one step closer to dead, and I have to bite back a smile.
He does smile, those brutal lips of his curving, and I know the look on his face. It’s the prelude to an attack, be it mental or physical, that he is savoring before it even happens. And it’s not a bluff, and nothing he does has limits one would expect from others, thus you never know how bad the bad he will deliver might be. And that look on his face is crystal clear, no words required. He’s planned a surprise for me when we land, which he will like and I will not. But I can’t let myself think about who, or what, that might be—I must be focused on a way to escape.
The plane halts and the doors open. He grabs my arm and forgets I’m buckled in, cursing. “Take the damn thing off.”
I unhook the seat belt and I’m instantly yanked to my feet. I let him drag me in front of him, me facing forward, him at my back. I step into the aisle and I move forward, while one of his men gives me an up-and-down glance that I ignore for a view of my own. The gun holstered at his rib cage is like chocolate on a bad day. I want it. I could take it if the moment were right, savor its delicious promises. If only the moment were right, but I want more than Neuville dead, I remind myself. I want to see Kayden again. I want to save Sara. And my father’s words play in my head. Discipline. Patience. Timing. You’re a small package. Strike like a cobra, not like a four-hundred-pound bear.
“Keep going,” Neuville orders, his damn hand at my hip. Maybe I’ll chop it off instead of killing him, but that would be a dirty job. There are other things I could chop off, and they could be worth the bloody aftermath, an idea that speeds my steps and leads me to the end of the walkway, where Neuville of course shoves me.
Getting the idea he’s intended, I more than happily step to the open door, and aside from the SUV limo awaiting us on some remote runway in who knows where, there are a good half dozen extra men and three black sedans. Wonderful. A convoy. If I kill the mob boss and our car stops, they kill me. Which means if I make that decision, I have to overpower our driver and the car while we’re still moving.
Neuville nudges me toward the stairs. “Move. Get going.” He’s irritated, obviously eager to get on the road, and I hope that means we’re in Kayden’s territory—my territory now, where escape will come with easy-to-find assistance.
As I hurry down the stairs, the sun is quickly sliding into the horizon, and the barely existent landing strip is void of any landmarks I can use to pinpoint our location. “Where are we?”
“A place we’re now leaving,” he replies predictably, his hand gripping my arm, tugging me toward the black SUV limo where Bastile waits for us by the back door, his holster just beneath his jacket and his big, tall body an easy target to hit when I eventually take his gun. “Get in,” he commands, as if I don’t get the point of the open door.
I climb inside the vehicle, and that’s when his gloating look on the plane comes back to haunt me, shock radiating through me as I find myself staring at Sara, who is wearing a stunning silver party dress.
“Ella,” she breathes out, a hint of relief in her shock that I’m not sure she should feel.
Recovering my initial jolt quickly, I give her a quick nod and mouth, “No emotion.”
She narrows her eyes and nods back, and the solidness of her chin, the determination to survive in her eyes, reminds me of the strength that I’ve always sensed in her, even when at times I didn’t think she knew it to be true. And while, no, I am not happy that she is here, the one good thing about Neuville putting us in the same place at the same time is that now I can kill him. Maybe not in this car, where she could end up in the crossfire of whatever action I take, but soon. Really soon.
Neuville slides into the car next to me, across from Sara, while Bastile joins the driver in the front seat. By my count that puts at least four men in two other cars, plus a driver in each, if I assume only those on the plane join us, and I can’t assume that at all. There were more men on the ground, many of whom could remain with the plane for our later departure, but they could also ride in the additional cars. The odds are not in my favor. This is not that right moment.
The minute the doors are shut we begin to move, and Neuville turns his attention on Sara. “Well, now,” he says, giving her an inspection, and though I can’t see his eyes from where I sit, I see hers. He’s already imagining her naked. “You really are a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he says. “Chris Merit does know how to pick a woman. And that’s a ‘fuck me’ dress if I ever saw one. So yes, I think I will. Fuck you.”
To Sara’s credit, she listens to me. She shows no emotion. Instead, she looks at me and I silently tell her to hold her ground. Don’t react. “Should I fuck her now, Ella? I mean”—he grabs my arm, turning my wrist upward for his viewing and mine, “I’ve been staring at your naked body for hours, but I can’t fuck you with this trash on your skin.”
“I was naked for hours and your men knew it,” I say, goading him and turning the attention on me, and away from Sara. “That big one with the goatee looked at me like he wanted to fuck me. Is that what you wanted?”
He doesn’t take the bait. His lips curve sardonically. “I’m sure they all want to fuck you, Ella. I liked that they knew you were naked on the plane, and also that they couldn’t have you.” He holds up the picture he took of me. “And I like that Kayden is about to see you like this and know that I’m about to have you. He’ll think I already have, though, won’t he? But we won’t send it to him until we’re ready for him to find you. He’ll trace the data source when I hit Send, and I’m not foolish enough to use my regular phone line with The Underground involved.”
I face him. “You downplay Evil Eye too easily. You will pay for this.”
“I have recordings of you and Kayden plotting to kill me,” he says. “Evil Eye will be voided.” He looks to Sara. “Come to me. On this side of the car. I want both beautiful women by my side.”
“It will not be voided,” I say, determined to keep Sara away from him, no matter what that means for me. “You kill a Hawk, you die.” I shove my wrist at him. “You hurt a Hawk’s woman, you die.”
He grabs my hair and yanks me to him, and this time Sara reacts. “Let her go!”
“I’m fine, Sara,” I say quickly, worried she’ll try to help me and get hurt. “Stay where you are.”
“Should I give her a lesson on obedience now, or later?” he asks me, his mouth close to mine, breath hot and disgusting, lips so close I could bite a hole in them to match mine with one hard slice of my teeth.
“You want me, and you’re just pissed that you can’t have me. You never had me. You never broke me.”
“I own you,” he promises. “And Hawk will be tied up for the show. He will watch the pain you feel when I burn his mark from your arm, then watch you endure suffering while I fuck your friend and punish her for all of your sins. And then I’ll punish you and fuck you. Over and over and over again. And then, and only then, will I let him die.” He shoves me away from him so hard, I hit the car door.
His phone rings and he answers it, and Sara and I make eye contact. “I’m sorry,” I mouth.
“It’s not your fault,” she silently replies, her response gutting me. “He’s a monster.”