Page 87 of Widow Mayker

“Lucían!” she cried as she balled over. Blood spilled from her shoulder. “Please don’t hurt my baby! Te lo ruego, por favor (I’m begging you, please)!”

“Ya son took my bitch! What the fuck makes you think I’ma spare that nigga?”

“He’s your brother!” she implored.

“Che si fotta!” I roared. “He ain’t no fuckin’ kin to me! I’ma make sure you feel his pain when his flesh is ripped from his body.”

On a dime, Katrice’s face relaxed. With blood trickling through her fingers, and with tears slowly cascading down her face, she cackled like a maniac. “I never thought you would fall in love, but you did. What great joy it gave me to see you so happy.” Her eyes grew dark, and her face contorted to that of a demon. “You will never lay a hand on my son!” she hissed. “He runs one of the most ruthless cartels in Peru and will have your precious Heir in the air before you know it. You took everything from us. Now we will do the same to you. Good luck finding her in one piece.”

My hand seized Katrice’s throat, again. I lifted her off the floor and choked her until she passed out. As her body hit the floor again, I felt no remorse.

“Check every fuckin’ airstrip in the state,” Cooley ordered to whoever was on the phone.

“Start in Miami,” I told him. While Cooley handled that, I consoled my mama.

“I’m so sorry,” she stressed. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, Mama. Everything’s gon’ be okay. Kim is gon’ take you upstairs, and I want you to shower and get some sleep, aight.” I kissed her cheeks and summoned Kim.

“Come on, Mama,” she said. As they disappeared up the stairs, I caught Alli staring after Kim. We locked eyes, but I didn’t have time to address what the hell was going on between them.

“I got a location,” Cooley announced. “A private airstrip just outside of Miami. The flight leaves at seven. We gotta get in the air.”

“Bet.” I hit up one of my contacts. He answered the phone on the second ring.

“Long time, no hear,” Carter Winters drawled. “What can I do for you?”

After running down the list of what the fuck was going on, I rattled off the location and said, “His flight is due to leave at 7 a.m. I need some people on the ground to stall. Under no circumstances does it leave the ground. Shoot that bitch up if you have to. I’ll be there.”

“Bet. I got you.”

I hung up with Carter, and my house turned into a makeshift bullpen. Not that I ever hoped for times like this, but a nigga was ready. Roy brought out every assault rifle and pistol I owned.

“I’ll get everything I can on Lucían,” Alli stated.

Two hours later, we boarded Cooley’s jet. The silence was deafening as the flight got underway. Cooley was focused on saving his daughter. I was focused on saving my person. Heir was the love of my life, and I was sure that she carried my baby. I would never rest if something happened to them. Years ago, I thought I’d lost my mind. If I couldn’t save Heir, I wouldn’t only lose my mind, but I would lose everything known to myself. That would likely be the first time I ever considered ending it all.

We landed in Miami just after six. The sun had just broken the horizon as we raced to the private airfield where Lucían’s plane waited for him to board. Carter kept in close contact with me, keeping me abreast of the situation on the ground. So far, Lucían wasn’t the wiser that anything was amidst. He was due to arrive at the air strip any minute, and we were trying to beat him there.

We arrived thirty minutes later at an airstrip owned by one of Lucían’s cartel associates. The place was dilapidated at best and looked more like a centuries old warzone. Suited for war, we crept into the empty private hangar and took our positions. Inside a small room, two men sat behind a wall of monitors, displaying air traffic. Alli didn’t give either of them a chance to know what was going on before he ended their lives.

Although the airstrip had seen better days, the jet parked inside the hangar was state of the art.

“You’re clear,” Alli crackled through my earpiece. I sauntered toward the jet with one purpose in mind. Onboard the jet, I eased into the opened cockpit and put the barrel of my gun to the back of the pilot’s head. His hands flew up in surrender.

Cooley appeared next to me. His eyes were void and without hesitation, he put a bullet into the pilot’s head. The man slumped over, dying instantly. Noa and Russ were there to carry the man off the plane. Carrying a duffle bag in one hand and a sleeping Katrice over his shoulder, Adir boarded the plane, slightly smirked, then headed to the lavatory.

Quickly Cooley and I scanned the aircraft for any devices, then planted one of our own. We needed to hear everything going on inside here. After we were done, Cooley took a seat in the pilot’s chair and relaxed. I sat next to him, glanced at him, and decided that maybe I wasn’t the only nigga who had a few screws missing.

Mere minutes later, Lucían’s voice sounded inside the hangar.

“Eyes on Heir.” Roy’s confirmation caused Cooley and I to relax. “Lucían, Heir, plus five boarding. Dube boarding.”

“Tú debes ser el mayordomo (You must be the steward),” Lucían said.

“Sí (yes). Póngase cómodo, señor (Get comfortable, sir). Estaremos en el aire en breve (we’ll be in the air shortly).” That was Dube, Cooley’s butler. His ass sounded like the dude off Fresh Prince.

“Gracias,” Lucían replied.