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Nods and sounds of agreement came from the group.
Just then, my phone chimed with a text. I snatched it up and read the message.
Devon: We’re in Charlotte Amalie. Orange mansion, number 23 on the gate.
I stood, the chair squeaking behind me. I read the group the text message.
“Let’s go. I’ve got a plane waiting at the airport,” Viper said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’m texting the pilot now to meet us there.”
We quickly ditched the cuts and jeans and changed into all-black tactical gear we rarely used. I felt empowered in the cargo pants, zip jacket, a balaclava, and boots. We were also armed to the teeth with pistols, pepper balls, and mini grenades.
The ride to the airport was nerve-wracking. I had no idea what to expect. A quick check of my phone showed it was one a.m.
Since we rarely ever left New Orleans, Viper had to pay a pretty penny to charter a plane. Phoenix parked the van at the edge of the tarmac. We sprinted to the waiting aircraft and hopped inside.
“Charlotte Amalie, Jerry,” Viper said to the pilot.
“You got it,” Jerry replied, and we were up and off.
I stared out the window, chewing on my thumbnail. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see Harlan giving me a fatherly look. “It’s okay. We’re going to get your girl. Those assholes are no match for us.”
I nodded and blew out a breath. “I know. Thank you for coming. I know you have a lot going on.”
He grinned. “Ride or die, brother.”
Chapter 21
Charlotte Amalie
Devon
I woke on the second night to realize that the yacht had stopped moving. I got out of bed, removed the cell phone from its hiding spot, and shoved it into my bra. In the adjoining bathroom, I gave my teeth a finger scrub. Just then, the door to my room opened.
“Let’s go, Frankenstein. Time to get to work.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped as the goon, still wearing that stupid mask, grabbed me by the arm and hustled me up the stairs and across the deck.
He gripped me tight as I took the steps down off the ship. I was then thrown into a black sedan with blacked-out windows. I paid careful attention to the street signs. Charlotte Amalie was the city we were in. That was good. Even though the thugs were both sitting up in the front seats, I couldn’t risk pulling out the phone and texting Parker. Not yet.
The ride was short. We pulled up at a large mansion, painted a dull orange, with the numbers 23 on the outside of the big black gate we’d just driven through. I was again forced out of the car by my arm. “I can walk just fine. You don’t need to manhandle me like a damn prisoner.”
“Shut up,” the goon said as he walked me up the steps of the place.
How much money did these guys have? They were paying me a thousand a month to maintain the malware situation. I was thinking I should have charged them double—especially if they were this loaded.
It’s all dirty money.
I was plunked onto a plush white couch in the living room. “Stay there. Don’t move or I’ll cut your lips off,” Ponytail said to me.
“Rude,” I said as they walked away.
Once I was alone, I looked around the room. I couldn’t see any cameras but that didn’t mean they weren’t here. After making sure they weren’t coming back, I went to every knick-knack and statue to make sure there were no hidden cameras. I quickly withdrew my phone and texted Parker my location. With relief I wasn’t caught, I shoved it back into my bra just as I heard footsteps coming around the corner.
“Stand up, let’s go,” Ponytail said. I was relieved he didn’t grab my arm and was going to let me walk on my own.
“Where are we going?” I asked, looking around to familiarize myself with the place.
“Shut up and stop asking questions. You’re on my nerves already, Frankenstein.”
