Page 51 of Jetmir

“Yes.” I rested my forehead against his. “I’ll always be okay as long as I have you.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

JETMIR

Organs of the night.

It was an organization that had been kidnapping humans and butchering them like animals in order to harvest their organs. Atticus Popov and his daughter ran it before they were killed, and Enzo Marchetti became the head of it in order to dismantle it from the inside.

One little problem.

The head of the Triad was also running it from the sidelines and my wife was on their radar.

Any motherfucker who dared get anywhere near my wife would die a painful death. They didn’t know it, but I kept a close watch on Anya. Yes, it was because I was protective—fine, obsessed—but also because I wanted to ensure her safety.

Over the last three years, I’d been reducing the number of members of the Triad, one by one, but there were still way too many members in that fucking organization.

The latest member was someone who lived in Miami.

It was too close to my angel for comfort, so I followed the lead to a building right outside the city, with nobody and nothing to reach us for miles.

All around, silence hung heavy in the night air. Even the moon couldn’t seem to find the strength to shine through the cloud. Muted streetlights surrounded the area, making it hard to see for anyone who was unlucky enough to find themselves here.

I heard a shuffle and I whirled around, gun pointed at… my sister.

“Damn it, Elira! Do you have a death wish sneaking up on me like that?”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, watching me with a narrowed gaze.

“I’m working. What are you doing here?”

“I don’t like the idea of you here alone,” she said. The cloak of darkness afforded us a level of security.

“If I needed or wanted help, I would have called.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” she muttered. “If you needed help, you would already be so deep in shit, you wouldn’t be able to call.”

“God, you’re so annoying,” I retorted dryly.

“It’s a trait we share.” She tilted her chin in the direction of the area behind me. “What’s going on there?”

I kneeled and she mirrored the position. The area was surrounded by barbed wire.

“I think it belongs to the Triad,” I answered as I looked through my binoculars.

“What? Why?”

“I think they want Anya to get to me.”

I snapped photos of the men who roamed the area, then loaded the images into an app that Enzo Marchetti built, and one by one, their names flashed across the screen. They were all Chinese names, except for one.

“Please tell me you’re not doing business with them,” she demanded. When I remained silent, she let out a sigh. “And please tell me you have a plan.”

“I do have a plan,” I stated, my focus now on the men I’d profiled as I stored the information in the Cloud.

“You didn’t answer my first question.”

“You know, you’re an annoying sister to have.” I looked at her exasperatedly. “What was the question?”