Or is there something else? Something I haven’t seen yet?
Drying off, I use the complimentary lotion to moisturize, then get dressed in my usual gear. Black ripped skinny jeans, Doc Martens, a threadbare t-shirt with middle finger decal, and my black leather jacket tossed over my arm. Making my way back into the cabin, I stop short when I see Carl strapped to his seat, several members of our party standing around him, others watching intently from their seats.
I first met Carl the day The Duke rescued me from the cage Chase had locked me in. A huge mountain of a man, he had sat beside me in the car. He’d made me uncomfortable then, not only just his size, but his demeanor as well. My gut may not always be right, but nine times out of ten, that cunt knows what she’s talking about. I’d certainly trust it over, say, one of my cousins. Bunch of ass-kissing posers.
Tossing my jacket on a nearby chair, I lean against the wall, crossing my arms. Carl glares back at me with a scowl, making that ugly ass mug of his even more grotesque. “Fuck you looking at?” he snarls, eyes narrowing as my lips draw up into a smirk.
“A rat,” I reply softly. “A two-timing, foul, piece of shit cum stain that deserves whatever The Duke has planned for you.” Pushing off the wall, I stalk forward, circling him. Rage pours through me, slithering through my veins, making my heart thunder in my chest. I’m not normally a bloodthirsty person, not that anyone would believe that after today. Roughly fifty-seven people are dead because of me and the others on this plane. But right now, I want more.
“He’ll get you eventually, you know,” he replies smugly. “He’ll always be three steps ahead of you.”
“You know what always amuses me?” I ask with laughter in my voice. “You fuckers know your time is up, and yet you keep talking. Do you honestly not care that you won’t be walking off this plane, or are you trying not to shit yourself in anticipation?”
I’m unsurprised when he doesn’t answer. The Duke comes striding into the cabin in only the way she can. I still think the Imperial March should be played every time she walks into a room—it wouldn’t surprise me if she can choke someone out using the Force. Fuck, that would be so cool. I want that superpower.
“Hey, Dukey! Who’s flying the plane?” Nate calls out, and I snicker at the glower she throws his way.
Unclipping the whip she perpetually keeps looped over her shoulder, she strokes it menacingly, and Nate gulps, his shoulders shaking in suppressed laughter.
“Laugh it up, fuckwad,” she hisses back. “You know I’ll get you back when you least suspect it.” The look she gives him is downright terrifying. It makes me want to take a step back, and it’s not even me it’s trained on. “It’s on autopilot. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Natey boy. I’ll make sure you arrive in one piece. Now, how about you go sit down and let the grown-ups handle things, ‘kay?”
Oh fuck. I think I just popped a lady boner. I want to be Dukey—er—The Duke when I grow up.
Eric holds his stomach, crying with laughter, while Tessa covers her mouth, eyes watering with the effort of holding back. Nate sits down heavily, his cheeks flushed, while The Duke throws a dirty grin his way before her eyes harden as she turns toward Carl.
In a move almost too quick to see, she has the whip wrapped around Carl’s neck, pulling it taut. His eyes bug out, knuckles white as he fists the armrest. “Now, what to do with traitors,” she hisses out. She waits a moment until his face starts turning purple, before letting him go. He eagerly sucks in air while keeping a wary eye on her, staying quiet as she taps the end of the whip against her chin.
“Any ideas?” she calls out, and a low murmur begins as everyone starts thinking out loud.
Glancing around the cabin, I notice Rebecca leaning against Trey, whispering in his ear. “Rebecca,” I call out, and she jerks, looking over at me. “You’ve had some amazingly inventive kills. Got any ideas?”
Tessa looks offended. “Neither of you told her about ours?” she hisses at her husbands, who both look offended.
Curiosity pricks at me, I love a good death story. Just as I’m about to ask, The Duke interrupts. “I’ve got to get back to the cockpit. Autopilot is all well and good, but I’d rather not be away from it for too long. Rebecca, did you have an idea?”
Rebecca nods and raises her voice so we can all hear her. “Vincenzo already knows me as the Retribution Killer, even if he doesn’t know my identity. Let's use Carl to send a message to him, that his time is coming to an end.”
“What do you have in mind?” I ask curiously.
She goes quiet for a moment, thinking. “I think we should make a statement. Once we land, we should use the seatbelts to string him up in the plane’s doorway. Arms and legs spread in an X shape, so he completely blocks the entrance.”
“Then what?” Tessa asks, her eyes gleaming. She’s such a bloodthirsty bish.
“Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil,” she answers back, a smile spreading across her face. “We slash his eyes, cut off his ears, and remove his tongue.”
Carl thrashes against his binds, eyes flashing in both fear and anger. He starts shouting, cursing all of us, which is quickly muffled when Jase stuffs a washcloth in his mouth, removing his tie, using it to keep it in place.
“I love it.” The Duke cackles as she starts backing out of the room. “I’m going back to the cockpit. There are two hours left until we land. I would highly suggest that we remove our presence from the plane. Justin,” she turns to one of her men, “go down into the hold. I have gloves and bleach in the purple suitcase. There’s not much we can do about the dead bodies, but we can at least minimize the DNA we leave behind.” With that, she disappears into the cockpit, and we get to work.
Someone turns up Spotify, Billie Eilish’sBad Guythumping through the speakers while we scrub down the plane as if our lives depend on it. Which they could. There’s a lot my uncle can help bury, but I’d rather not ask him for another favor.
Nate and Eric move the bodies to the staff bathroom, piling them inside. Tessa and I scrub down the cockpit, working around The Duke. Nate tackles the other bathroom, while Trey and Rebecca remove the no doubt copious amounts of DNA from the bedroom they had been using. Eric and The Duke's men scrub the main cabin, wiping down the tables, sofas, and chairs.
The Duke has arranged for us to land at a small private airfield in New Jersey, just over the state border. Even better, it has a hangar we can put the plane in. As we’re bypassing customs, we’re not checking in anywhere, and Eric had booked our flight under aliases. It might be a day or two before anyone finds Carl’s body, which will work to our advantage.
Ryan makes a phone call to the Charon Group’s headquarters in Manhattan, arranging a couple of cars to pick us up. In case of cameras, we’ll land and taxi into the hangar, where the cars will be parked and waiting. It’s maybe not one hundred percent foolproof, but it’s the best plan we could come up with while we cleaned.
Through it all, Carl’s muffled shouts and straining against his restraints continued, to no avail. The only thing we didn’t think through is Carl’s size. At nearly seven feet tall and built like a fucking brick shithouse, it’s like trying to move a mountain. A squirming, shouting, kicking mountain.
