“He said he knows me. I’ve never met a Cain.”
Lear frowned at me. “Dude, think—of course his name isn’t actually Cain.” He peered at me, as if I’d grown a second head. “Got your head in the game, boss?”
After taking a long breath in and letting it out slowly, I shot a look at Layla. “On the plane—now.”
She frowned at me. “Excuse me? You want to rephrase that?”
“No. Get your ass on the plane, Layla.”
“But I thought—”
I gestured at the iPad. “This changes the plan. You’re involved, like it or not. Now…GET. ON. THE. PLANE.”
She caught the tone in my voice, the one that says I’m no longer tolerating her bullshit. When she was aboard, I took another deep breath, and then refocused on my men.
“Lear. We know the location?”
He shook his head. “Lonigan is freaking out, obviously. Not answering his phone. He’s probably at the bank getting the money.”
I turned to Puck. “Get him. Callie too. They don’t leave your sight again. No cell phones, no purses, no wallets. Stop on the way here and get them new outfits from head to toe, skin out. Assume these guys are watching our every move. Assume they’ve got Jon and Callie tracked somehow.”
I turned back to Lear. “Get into Jon’s email and get those coordinates. If you can wrangle some aerial or satellite on the location, that would be a bonus. At the very least, I need to know what I’m walking into.”
“You’re going through with this?” Duke asked, skeptical.
I nodded. “Yes. We’re giving him the money, I’m going in alone and unarmed, and you all are staying well back. That’s the plan. Getting Cleo back unharmed is our only goal.”
Thresh spoke up, his voice rumbling up from somewhere just above the center of the earth. “If he says he knows you, and wants you alone, it’s a trap.”
“No shit, man.” I gestured at the stairs up to the jet. “Everyone, get on board. Puck, get Jon and Callie. Make sure they’re clean. Drive north, we’ll meet up somewhere. Sacramento, maybe.”
“Got it.” Puck turned away.
“And Puck? Haul ass.”
He just waved a hand as he slid behind the wheel of an H2. A screech of tires, and then he was across the tarmac and gone. Everyone else was on the jet. Layla was in the very back, buckled in already, earbuds plugged into her ears, staring out the window with a petulant expression on her face. She felt me board the aircraft, swiveled her head to glare at me balefully. I jerked my head at the cockpit once, sharply, and then took my place at the controls.
After a minute, she joined me, closing the cockpit door behind her. She’d tied her hair into a tight bun at the back of her head, as she always did before flying. I’d taught her to fly a while we were still traipsing the world with Roth and Kyrie, but in the year since moving to Colorado, I’d spent even more time honing her skills, personally supervising her official flying lessons. A few more official hours and she’d have her certification, even though she already had enough unofficial hours to qualify. I’d even shown her the basics of piloting a chopper, although it would be a while before I was ready to let her attempt a take off or landing on her own.
A basic Learjet, though? No problem. We went through preflight together, working as seamlessly as ever, despite the crackling tension between us. Preflight done, I let Layla radio the tower for permission to take off. When it was granted, she glanced askance at me, and I nodded my permission; she taxied us to the runway, spent a moment breathing, focusing, and then, squaring her shoulders and stiffening her spine, she feathered the throttle to get us moving. Slowly, gradually, she increased power until we were hurtling down the runway at speed. Softly she tugged the yoke toward herself, and then we were airborne, angled high into the broad blue of the sky. I called out the heading I wanted her to put us on, and once she’d done so I took over the process of bringing us to cruising altitude.
Finally, I muted the radio input and keyed the mic so she’d hear me in her headset. “Layla, we need to talk.”
“The fuck we do,” she snapped. “Nothing to talk about.”
“Yes there is. Look at me, please.”
She shook her head, staring ahead, arms crossed. “Nothing to say, nothing I want to hear.”
“Too fucking bad.” I put it on autopilot and turned to face her. “You know I love you. You know I respect your strength and independence.”
“Sure as fuck didn’t feel that way a little bit ago.”
“Which part are you angry about, babe? Being tied to the chair? Or being told no?”
“Neither, you idiot.” She finally swiveled to look at me, and I saw a tear sliding down her cheek. “Ilikedbeing tied up. It was hot. But that scene in your office? That hurt.”
“You use sex to get your way all the time, Layla, so don’t—”
