Page 91 of Bound By A Promise

I struck the steering wheel with the butt of my hand. “Maybe they’re not there yet.”

“Could be. Only one vehicle has come in since we arrived. It’s a rusty old Ford pickup truck. Bench seat. I checked the bed, nothing but junk. They don’t speak English.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention. “Spanish?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

Doesn’t exactly sound like someone who would be flying on a private plane. “What are they doing there?”

“We can’t exactly have a conversation. They parked near a hangar with a Cessna 182.”

That’s not a big plane.

“Fuck,” I growled.

“Don’t let them take off. We’re getting off 470.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Spanish,” Aléjandro said. “Oldest trick in the book to pretend you suddenly forgotInglés.”

The speedometer went higher as I passed on both the left and the right, weaving around cars on the exit ramp and onto the two-lane road. Fuck the police. If they try to pull me over, they can follow me all the way to the airport.

To my side, Aléjandro pulled his gun from his holster, inspecting his weapon. Both of the men in the back were doing the same.

For better or worse, no one tried to pull me over.

Considering the firepower in this car, it was for the better. Taking out some rookie cop for doing his job would piss off the members of the KCPD currently on our payroll.

As soon as I brought the car to a stop, the four of us jumped out. We ran through the empty small airport out to the tarmac. The two men with the hand tug attached to the Cessna looked up at us as we ran toward them.

Their guns became visible too late.

Enrico was shot at close range.

“Fuck,” I yelled, my gun pointed.

Aléjandro shot first, taking down one of the men. I shot the second in the leg as Luca shot the gun from his hand. “Don’t kill him. I want information.” I looked down at Enrico. They’d aimed at his head. I scrunched my nose, knowing he wasn’t alive. Fuck, I hated telling wives their husbands were dead.

Aléjandro ran up to the man injured in the leg, speaking in Spanish too fast for me to understand even if I could. The man was yelling back at him.

“Look in the truck,” I said to our soldiers.

“Just junk in the bed, like Rico said.”

“The plane?” I questioned, jogging to the open door. The four-seater plane was empty. “Goddamn it,” I cursed, hitting the plane with the butt of my gun. The tin can echoed. I stopped, standing perfectly still. “Did you hear something?”

Aléjandro stood, kicking the man with his boot. “He’s not talking.”

“He’s guilty of something,” I said. “No one starts shooting who isn’t.”

“I can make him talk.” Aléjandro’s eyes darkened. “Do you know a place where we can have more privacy?”

“Gag him,” I said to Luca. “Stop his bleeding. Bind his arms and legs and put him in the trunk of the car.” I looked at the two dead men. “And call a cleanup crew. The boss doesn’t like us to leave bodies.”

I turned toward the plane, certain I heard a noise. I looked at Aléjandro. “Did you hear that?”

It was then I noticed the small door on the side of the plane.