Page 16 of Chris

Chris checked the watch on his wrist as the jet jumped when the landing gear first touched down on the ground. He found that was the most nerve-wracking part of flying. He didn’t mind takeoff, or even being in the air. It was landing that always had his heart jumping into his damn throat.

Their flight was on time, according to his watch. Across the aisle from his seat on the private jet, his father cleared his throat as the pressure in the cabin became bearable, and their voices didn’t sound like an echo to each other’s ears.

“Not anymore settled about this, are you?” Gian asked.

In a tailored suit, unbothered and relaxed sitting in the white leather seat, Gian smirked in Chris’s direction, like he had known the whole time what was running through his quiet son’s mind. His father always seemed to have a good grasp on the complexities of his boys although Chris never understood why.

Sometimes, it felt like a curse.

Others, a gift.

“I don’t see the point in you coming along for this,” Chris replied, shrugging his broad shoulders under his own suit. He was thinking his choice of attire would be a mistake once they stepped off the temperature-controlled jet into the dry, Mexican heat. Not that it mattered. Guzzis were who they were, suits and class included, even when the weather called for board shorts and a dip in the ocean. “All I’m saying, is I can do this all without you needing to come along, Dad.”

Gian nodded and turned to stare out the port window as the plane slowed. Soon, it would taxi into the private gate at the international airport. According to their contact, guards would greet them although they arrived at a public airport.

It showed how far the cartel reached, and Chris refused to allow that thought very far from his mind. When people forgot who they were dealing with, they underestimated them at the same time.

He wouldn’t be doing that.

Not here.

They couldn’t afford to.

“It is a show of faith for me to be here for this first meeting,” Gian said, never turning back to give Chris his full attention as he spoke, “and you know that. In this life, this business, it is better when bosses sit down for a proper face to face, and then we go from there. It extends a friendly hand, and people are less likely to question our intentions. That is what we need here, isn’t it?”

Gian made all good points.

He wasn’t wrong.

Still, Chris watched his father from the side, and all he thought about was his mother back home in Canada. They were all at a rather comfortable place with la famiglia, and the family business. It had been a good while since the mafia touched their family violently, and Chris didn’t want this cartel job for The League to be the first thing in a while to remind their family—but especially not his mother—that this was dangerous.

They knew.

All of them did.

It didn’t change the fact that, sometimes, people became relaxed in their positions, and believed nothing would touch them in their lives.

Cartels were notoriously vicious, and risky, when doing business with them. A true statement whether someone learned it firsthand, or not. That, more than anything else, was what kept Chris on edge since they were using business as a front to get their in to the goddamn cartel here. Not only was he looking for a woman he wasn’t sure wanted to leave Mexico, but he also had to consider his father’s safety.

Like fuck would he leave here needing to tell his mother that her husband wouldn’t be coming home to her alive. That just would not happen. Not if Chris had any say.

Chris could have done this job alone without his father, but yes, it would be easier with his presence here to defer to until the leaders of the cartel trusted him. But as soon as that fucking happened, Gian was gone.

No questions asked.

“Did you call Ma?” Chris asked.

Gian’s lips lifted with a small smile. “I will call her once we’re off the plane, Chris.”

“You should call her now.”

“Stop worrying. You sound like her.”

Right.

Chris forced himself to shut up and let his annoying thoughts stay tucked away in his mind. There were a lot of reasons he could think of for why he shouldn’t have taken this job, but it was too late to back out now.

The phone in Chris’s pocket buzzed, and he took it out to check the text rolling across the screen. A simple message from his twin, but it calmed his overacting nerves. Corrado’s text only read, Call me if you need anything.