Page 14 of Destroyer
Minutes later, they boarded the small jet. A flight attendant made his way over, offered them each a drink.
They declined.
“We’ll be taking off shortly.” The attendant sat in one of the seats at the front of the craft.
“Good morning,” said the pilot. “We’re fourth in line, so we’ll be taxiing to the runway shortly. Flight time to Dulles International Airport is eleven hours.”
Sydney kept her gaze trained on the aircraft door.
Do not open, she repeated over and over in her head, like a prayer. If it did, or if the pilots were told they were harboring someone they wanted to question about a dead American, it was the beginning of hell on earth.
Sydney glanced out the window, then at Gabriel. While she appreciated his comforting smile, she was not in the clear yet.
“It’s all good, Sydney,” he said. “You got this.”
The plane taxied forward, then stopped.
No, no, no. Keep moving.
After several agonizing minutes, the pilot said, “We’re ready for takeoff.”
The flight attendant returned to confirm they were buckled.
As the jet sped down the runway, Sydney breathed deep. And, as it lifted off the ground, she murmured, “Thank you, Lord.”
“It’s all good,” Gabriel said, but she couldn’t miss the concern in his eyes.
“Did the police know you were bribing them with the Santini clothing and wine?” she asked as the bird climbed higher in the sky.
“They knew,” Gabriel replied, “but it was about the SantiniFamilybusiness—Cosa Nostra—notanything to do with you.”
“I thought the Santini’s aren’t involved in syndicated crime,” Sydney murmured.
“My brothers aren’t,” Gabriel said as he looked past her out the window.
She waited for him to say more, but he stayed silent. For as long as she’d known him, she’d had her suspicions he was doing more than running the European arm of a multi-billion-dollar company his older brother, Luciano, had started years ago.
No surprise there.
She closed her eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. She was too restless, too concerned the pilots would be told to return to Italy. But as the minutes turned into an hour, and then two, her confidence began to return.
She’d been sent to Italy to take out Todd Petersen, the number-three man of a well-known human trafficking organization that was run by an admitted misogynist who’d been hiding in plain sight his entire career. She hoped that by eliminating Petersen, the remaining two leaders would slip up, maybe even make a mistake.
Fear did crazy things to people. She ought to know. For the first time since becoming a Special Ops, she’d tasted that fear firsthand.
And it did not taste good.
TEDDY
At a half-pastsix in the morning, Teddy exited the taxi, took his bags from the driver, and walked into the high-rise condo in Alexandria, Virginia.
I’m home.
Energy pounded through him. He’d been back to the DC area only three times in the past four months to check on the family-owned restaurant and to spend a little time with his fam.
After entering the spacious lobby with its upscale furniture and pendant lighting, he made his way to the elevator. Up he rode, then down the hall to his penthouse apartment. He’d rented the two-bedroom condo months earlier when Luciano asked him to manage the renovation for Santini Ristorante. The luxury condo building was mere blocks from the popular eatery.
After keying in his code, the lock clicked open. He entered, set down his bags, and glanced around.
