“Because I need you safe,” he replies, tone soft. “You deserve to be safe. To not spend your life looking over your shoulder. So I’m going to do whatever it takes to finish this.”
“And if he catches you?”
“He won’t.”
“You can’t know that for sure.”
“Maybe not, but I do know that I won’t sit here and wait for him to make a move. Not when there are leads to follow.”
Chapter 17
Dylan
“What’s the mission then, boss man?” Jesper asks as I place both hands on the sides of the cockpit and lean in a bit. It’s far louder up here than in the seated section I just vacated, but Tucker is napping, and the voices in my head are drowning me.
“We’re meeting Harlow Slater,” I reply.
He glances over at me and arches a brow. As usual, his blond hair is shoved beneath a baseball cap. He’s wearing headphones over one ear while the other is slid off to the side so he can hear me. “Slater. As in the Slater crime family based out of the deepest bellies of New York City?”
“You’ve heard of them?”
“Oh yeah, I’ve heard of them. Or, more accurately, what they do to the people who work for them.” He shakes his head angrily. “They’re a bad bunch.”
“That much I do know. But she has information that could prove valuable to me, and I need to get to her before they realize she’s a threat to them. What do you know about them?”
“Just what I’ve heard through the grapevine. You know, when I was flying stuffy, no-morals rich people around before I met you Hunts.”
I can’t help but smile. Jesper is a highly decorated Air Force fighter pilot. He’s flown more missions than anyone will ever know. Which is what makes him perfect for what we use him for. The guy has gotten us in and out of some tight spots on more than one occasion. He’s fast, efficient, and discreet—three things that are desperately needed when you’re dealing with high-profile targets such as well-known traffickers.
You can’t risk tipping them off, or the risk of those they’ve taken is put into even more jeopardy than it already is.
“Just what did you hear through the grapevine?”
“Carl Slater—the patriarch before he met his own untimely death—loved to throw people out of planes.”
I wish I could say I was surprised—but the evilness human beings are capable of is something I’m quite familiar with. “Disturbing.”
“Yeah. And the son, Heath? Has a fondness for drowning people.”
Emma is terrified of water.
What would he have done to torment her if the marriage had gone through and he’d discovered that?
“Fantastic,” I respond dryly. Another reason to stop him.
“As I said, bad people. Be careful. Let me know if you want additional boots on the ground on this one. I’m happy to come and watch your back.”
I consider it. Most of the time, he stays back at the airport hangar and watches the plane, but if we’re walking into a trap, it might be a good plan to have someone no one knows on our side. “You know, I think that might be a good idea.”
The small café nestled near the beach, in Point Pleasant, New Jersey, is relatively quiet as Tucker and I step inside. The aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods drifts outside, but coffee is the last thing on my mind.
Especially when I see a blonde woman in the corner, large dark sunglasses covering her eyes. The white blouse she’s wearing has embroidered flowers all over the front of it like an explosion of color. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun—not a strand out of place.
Even if I hadn’t seen her picture, I’d have known she’s Harlow Slater. It’s just that obvious. As I wait for her to acknowledge me, I try to bury my desire to simply force her to tell me where I can find her son so I can stop this whole thing right now.
“Hi, can I help you?” the barista greets happily.
“I’ll grab the coffee,” Tucker offers, then heads toward the counter.
