Page 4 of Dark Reunion

CHAPTER 2

DEAN

The plane jolted as its wheels kissed the tarmac, the screech of rubber loud in the cabin’s silence.

Mexico.

He recognized this place with his eyes closed. The air was familiar, even the heat and the way it penetrated the windows screamed that he was home. No, not home…where he was born.

Not in a million years did he ever think he would willingly, while still breathing, step foot on this part of the earth again. There were too many bad memories that had become nightmares.

The children had luckily slept for the plane ride, but Yasmine had been as awake and alert as Dean was. They didn’t say a word, but her eyes mirrored the same worry and restless calculations that ran through his head. They needed to wait until everyone’s guard was down, then run.

But run where?

The only place that Dean thought of that would be safe was Morry’s. She was not only the closest, but he trusted her with his life.

Dean’s hands fisted as he pulled against the restraints biting into his wrists. He’d spent the entire flight caged in silence with tape over his mouth. At least his father had let the boys sit with Yasmine. His sons were pressed to Yasmine’s side, but stayed stoic and didn’t cry before they finally fell asleep. She stroked their hair with trembling fingers, whispering soft reassurances.

But it wasn’t the twins that gutted him. It was the empty space in her lap.

Isabella.

His father sat as proud as punch at the front of the plane with Isabella in his arms. Luckily, she’d fallen asleep. Every now and then, he would look back and smirk, just to make his point. All of them were his prisoners and there was nothing that they could do now.

Fucker.

Dean’s bones ached with the rage that flowed through his body. The years of hate once more bubbling to the surface like a volcano ready to explode.

The wheels thudded, the plane slowed, and the cabin swayed as it taxied down the private runway. Heat shimmered against the windows, a stark contrast to the cooler air they’d left behind. Palm trees bent in the distance, their fronds swaying like skeletal hands.

Dean’s throat tightened. Memories flooded, unbidden. The stink of blood on stone, the iron tang of chains, the sound of his father’s voice barking orders while people screamed. His boyhood had been broken here, in this land, inside the walls of his father’s empire.

And now his children were being dragged into the same hell.

The guards stood at once, guns raised.

“Up,” one barked.

Dean rose slowly as Yasmine’s green eyes met his. Even through the fear, he could clearly understand what she was trying to convey.

Don’t break.

Waking the boys Yasmine ushered them toward the door.

He was shoved down the narrow aisle, the plane’s steps unfolding onto blistering asphalt.

Heat slammed into him, carrying the grit of dust, jet fuel, and the bright, musky scent of cempasúchil on the wind. Beyond the perimeter fence, black SUVs waited, lined like a funeral procession.

That’s what it felt like being back here…like it was only a matter of time before he would meet his maker or maybe burn in hell.

His father…or the monster leaned against the hood of the lead vehicle. He was feared across the country and for good reason. He didn’t just control his area. No, he lived to squash and seize more land, and he’d do it in the most despicable ways. Murder, rape, kidnapping. He had no limits.

There were only two families that were strong enough to stand up to him. Maeve’s family was one of them, and as long as she remained hidden and safe, he would never have that chip to play.

Isabella was still sound asleep in his father’s arms, her small fists clutching the man’s suit jacket, as he patted her back like she was his own.

Dean’s vision went white, there in the back of his mind helicopter blades beat the air. He stopped and shook his head, demanding his mind to stay with it. Years, it had been years since he’d had a PTSD flashback. Of course, his father would bring out the worst.