Page 84 of Fatal Fantasy

Finally, the SUV veers to the right a little too hard, the passenger side tires making contact with the sand and instantly losing control as they barrel through the desert at a high rate of speed, kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake.

“Don’t stop now, Tyson! Go!” Carter screams, hanging onto the grab handle as the truck switches into four-wheel drive, our traction becoming much better as the wheels grip the sand with ease.

Carter’s eyes never leave her father’s SUV as it loses control, swerving every which way before finally crash-landing on its side, smoke erupting from the engine as Tyson releases the gas pedal, our vehicle slowly coming to a stop next to our target.

“Go!” Tyson screams, and without a second thought, I jump out of the massive pickup truck with Carter on my heels, our footsteps kicking up a dust cloud as I land on solid ground.

The air is hazy from the ruckus, nature clearly pissed off that we’ve disturbed the sand dunes that can usually be seen for miles, but the three of us push through, tools at the ready to capture any survivors.

Tyson’s surveillance suggests that there are six bodies in this car – four guards, a driver, and Mr. Cassini – but with each man dressed for a black tie wedding, they all look the same as they groan and whine while climbing from the destroyed vehicle.

“My father. Where is he?” Carter asks, pointing the gun at a security guard that’s staggering from the passenger’s side, and his steps come to a screeching halt as he recognizes her voice.

“He’s in the follow car, Miss Cassini,” he says, and she turns to face me, spinning on her heel so fast I’m afraid she’s going to twirl away, her jaw dropping the second her eyes meet mine.

“What is it, Principessina?” I ask, but she stays silent, her gaze wandering to the open road as she turns in every direction, almost like she’s searching for clues.

“I’m missing something, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out what it is. This feels like some kind of elaborate ruse,” Carter chokes out, a terrified look on her face that I’ve never seen, but with her father on the loose, we all have a newfound sense of fear nestled in our bones.

“Ty! What do we have?” I call out, his alarming lack of updates beginning to send me into a fit of paranoia, but I forge on, not letting either of them down in the height of our mission.

Carter’s ominous words are ringing in my head, and even though this ambush didn’t go exactly how we wanted, I refuse to give up hope after everything we’ve done to get here.

After a detailed escape that crossed countries, a negotiation that tested our faith, and a quick run-in with a few hired goons, I have to believe that we’ve finally got the Don exactly where we want him.

FORTY-SIX

CARTER

It’s a bit of a surreal feeling, waking up today knowing that while this is the beginning of the rest of my life, it’s also my father’s final day on Earth.

Obviously, it has to be this way.

Tyson, Jasper and I wouldn’t ever be able to breathe easily, worried that at any second my father would find us, his looming presence hovering over our heads and ruining any chance we had at a clean escape.

It doesn’t make it easy, though, as the humanity that courses through my veins is reminded of the fact that for nearly twenty years, he was my best friend.

My father may be a ruthless killer, a cruel mafioso, and a thoughtless business man, but when I was growing up, he was my entire world.

I wouldn’t be the Carter Cassini that my boys love unconditionally if it weren’t for my upbringing, and although I know what I need to do, it isn’t lost on me that the enemy Tyson and Jasper are so hellbent on destroying, is the person who created exactly what they’d die to protect.

Flashes of memories flood through me as we follow his SUV through the desert, reminders of him teaching me how to ride a bike, the father-daughter dances that were mandatory until his doctors advised against it, and most of all, the ways in which he turned me into his right-hand woman.

In my own twisted head, I decided that I’d dress in my signature funeral color for the occasion, choosing a flowy black skirt with leggings, and a tight tank top that keeps me free.

Tyson and Jasper opted for bullet proof vests, cargo pants, and heavy ass boots, but all that gear is just going to weigh them down.

I’m most comfortable when I’m unapologetically myself, and even though my torture scars could be seen for miles, I’ve learned to embrace those parts, too.

Still, something isn’t adding up, my father not being amongst the bodies from the SUV beginning to drive me mad, but Jasper’s leashed himself to me, keeping my feet on solid ground as I try to put together the last few pieces of a puzzle without a clear picture.

Spinning around, I search the open road for clues, wondering if the second car is going to pull up at any second, but it’s eerily silent out here, fear creeping up my spine as the seconds pass.

Jasper subtly brings me back to reality once more, tugging me forward and leading me toward the men Tyson wrangled from the toppled SUV, each of them zip tied and lying face down on the ground.

Surveying the damage, I lift the head of each man we captured, a few of them I recognize, some I don’t, but with a total of six hostages, we at least have bargaining chips, creating a silver lining in this plan that was supposed to go off without a hitch, but ended up being a disaster.

As I approach the last man, the tattoos on his hand stand out in my mind, and when I order him to sit up, the scar on his cheek brings back memories, but before I can question him further, another car joins the party behind us, and everything clicks into place.