Chapter Twenty-Two

Max

The tarmac at CyberCo Airline, Miami International Airport, Florida…

"How much longer are they going to make us wait, Max?" Jax stared out of the cockpit window. The tarmac was quiet, no soul or movement in sight. "For that matter, how do you know this is where they want us to be? We've been very careful not to associate our real names with this aircraft or Club Decadent Skies."

Max didn't respond immediately. Instead, he opened the message he'd received on his cell phone two hours after Wick had been taken.

He read it out loud, "If you want your little witch back, you'll do as I say. Let's fly and have some euphoric fun. Normal departure time tonight. Anyone but you and Crowthorne aboard… she dies." He shrugged. "It's rather clear this is where we need to be, Jax. Normal departure time is midnight, so there's still time."

"We're gonna die on this plane tonight. You know that, don't you?" Jax's voice was calm and filled with acceptance.

Once again, Max didn't say anything. They both took chances in the choices they had made in life—Max as part of Delta Force and Jax in assisting the FBI over time in certain covert operations involving internal corruption.

"Yeah, I thought so." Jax snorted as he flicked various switches on the panel above him. The engine growled as it sparked to life. "Might as well warm her up and get in the air the moment the outside door closes. If those fucktards think they're going to call all the shots aboard our plane, they're in for a surprise."

"Just don't take unnecessary chances, Jax. I just found Wick. I sure as hell have no intention of not having a life with her. I know our chances seem slim, but mark my words, we're not dying here tonight."

"Good. I'm glad we're on the same wavelength," Jax said. He pointed to a red indicator light above a switch named MCD turning green. "They're here. Main cabin door is closed. Off we go."

"They must've come from behind." Max sat down in the co-pilot seat and strapped himself in as he opened the plane's onboard CCTV footage. He squinted at the screen, his heart missing a beat as he noticed Wick kicking the man who shoved her into the seat on the shin.

"That's my girl," he murmured. "Just take it easy, love. Don't push your luck." He sighed in relief as the man stomped off, leaving her to settle in the seat. His attention moved to the rest of the bodies on the screen. "There are six of them apart from Wick. Bradley Gray, Iceman, and a couple strong arms." Max cursed as he zoomed in on the man sitting down next to Wick in the cabin on the second level. "That's Stefan Jurgen." He looked sideways at Jax. "I suppose we just found your corrupt FBI agent."

"Agent, my ass. He's the deputy director of the organized and white-collar crime division." Jax turned the plane onto the runway. "GoldenEye1 ready for takeoff," he said as he tapped the headphones to activate the link with the airport tower. Max had logged a flight plan to Key West. It was their best option since he owned a private airstrip there where they might have an advantage… if they were still alive to land.

Jax smirked at Max. "Six, you say? And one of them is that pipsqueak Bradley Gray? We can take them. Suddenly, I'm not as negative about the outcome of this excursion anymore."

Max returned his smile. "Especially since I brought a secret weapon along and a surprise waiting at Key West."

"Oh, yes. They're gonna shit their pants." Shaking his head, Jax pushed the throttle lever forward to increase to takeoff speed. Switching on the flap handle, he pulled back on the control stick, and the big black aircraft lifted off the ground. "All this because Bradley Gray wants to be mayor?"

"Colonel Brett confirmed that Iceman is a front boss for the Genolere Mafia. There is more at play here than just the mayorship, Jax. This setup shouts mafia. The question is, who is in charge? Who's blowing the horn on this entire fuck up, and why? The capo di tutti i capi, Giovanni Lombardo, or Bradley Gray?"

"The boss of all bosses," Jax mused. "Do you think that's what Gray is after? We know he has money. What if he's after power to elevate his position? I've seen it countless times when the super-rich become entangled in developing billions of dollars' worth of properties. They become greedy, the wave of money and power turning into a demanding and tumultuous mistress."

"No man can be that stupid to take on the biggest and strongest mafia family in the U.S. He doesn't have an army of soldiers behind him. How the hell is he going to get rid of the top dog?" Max shook his head. "More than that, he's not Sicilian and we know that the entire group only allows Italians or Sicilians into their business. No one is going to support him or vote for him as the new Don should something happen to Giovanni Lombardo. Iceman is the known successor. Even Gray can't be that stupid to believe otherwise."

When the plane leveled out, Jax switched to autopilot and shifted in his seat to look at Max. "You do realize they might have a pilot with them. Your surprise in Key West might be for nothing if they decide to hijack the plane and land elsewhere."

"Come now, Jax. How well do you know me? I designed the electronic system of this plane. There's a special activation code to lock in coordinates. No matter which alternate ones are entered once that code is activated, the plane won't change course. Believe me, the GoldenEye is only landing where we want it to."

"Well, hell. Thanks for the heads-up, asshole."

"Need to know, my friend."

"I'm one of the co-owners, Max, and so are our friends. We fucking need to know."

"I kept it from you to ensure none of you would be compromised should the plane ever be hijacked, but you're right. I should've told you. Remind me to inform the others on our return."

"You bet your ass I will." A sharp knock on the cockpit door put an end to further bickering. They both looked at the small monitor next to the door.

"It's one of the muscle guards," Max said.

The intercom sizzled, then the man's voice echoed through the cabin, "Your presence is required in the Sky Dungeon."

Max glanced at the CCTV monitors. The takeoff cabin was empty. He switched to the Sky Dungeon and cursed.

"The fucking bastard. I'm going to kill him."

"Calm down, Max. You're not going to do Wick any good by charging in there with all guns blazing." Jax gestured to the scene they were looking at. "The way she's rigged with that rope around her throat is dangerous. One yank, or releasing her to swing free, and her neck will snap."

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious," Max growled as he unclipped the seatbelt, got up, and unlocked the cockpit door with Jax on his heels. Without looking at the huge physique of the man standing at the door, he shoved him out of the way and stalked toward the dungeon. The curses chasing after them confirmed he had pushed the man so hard, he had landed flat on his ass in the narrow galley behind the cockpit.

"Fucking useless shitface," Max grumbled.

"Yeah," Jax chuckled. "As I said, we can take them."

"Not until Wick is free from that fucking rig they've got her tied to." He cast a dark look at Jax. "Understood?"

"Of course. I'm not an idiot, Max." Jax looked around as they closed in on the dungeon entrance. "Did you check the rest of the plane? How sure are we that there are only six perps?"

"Shit," Max cursed himself. "I was so wrapped up in checking that Wick wasn't hurt, I didn't scan throughout. Stay alert, Jax. If there are more of them around, we need to be prepared."

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Max echoed Jax's sentiment. With the uncompromising position Wick was in, they couldn't take any chances. Iceman, the cruelest of the three men flanking Wick as they entered, knew that all too well. It was there in the flash of victory in his eyes.

"Who the fuck is flying the plane if both of them are here? I thought you told them only the two of them are allowed to come," Bradley Gray teemed as he looked at Iceman with a wild look in his eyes. Max had his answer. The mafia was in charge. At the moment, Gray was nothing other than a puppet.

"Relax, Bradley," Iceman drawled. He didn't move. His stance remained relaxed and challenging. Max didn't take the bait. He mirrored Iceman's attitude. "Igor is a pilot. He'll fly the plane, although I'm sure it's on autopilot, right, Mr. Crowthorne? It was you who took off, right?"

Jax took a page from Max's books and didn't respond. Iceman's lips compressed into a thin line. It was evident he wasn't used to his authority being spurned openly.

"You hurt, love?" Max's eyes did a quick foray over Wick's disheveled appearance but couldn't detect any blood or signs of abuse.

Wick scoffed, "Gmphf, by whom? These spineless assholes who use a woman to assert power? Hardly, honey."

"So, this is the ex?" Max ignored the fury sparking in Iceman's eyes as he bypassed him and looked at Stefan Jurgen with open disgust. "Seems you did yourself a favor walking away from this piece of shit, babe."

"And how," she agreed. "For the life of me, I don't know what I ever saw in him. I should've known then that he was nothing other than a corrupt opportunist. Always stealing the credit others deserved."

"Fuck you, Wick," Stefan sneered. "You don't know shit about me or what I've become."

"Honestly, asshole, I don't want to know shit about you." Wick portrayed no fear, which concerned Max, especially since he had no idea how volatile Iceman could become. Now that he knew Max cared for her, his desire for vengeance at having lost a finger might take a bad turn.

"I suggest you curb the insults. You have no idea what I'm capable of." Stefan yanked on the rope, causing the loop to tighten around Wick's throat. She didn't even gasp, but her eyes locked on Max. He could read the silent message for him to relax and be careful.

"Oh, I'm sure you're the most fearsome of everyone here, especially since it's your forte to use defenseless women to achieve success." Max stuffed his hands in his jeans. Stefan released the rope, and Max breathed out. He was right. The dickhead didn't like his manhood to be questioned.

"Enough of measuring dicks," Iceman sneered. "Do you know why you're here, DuPont? You and this prick?"

Max shrugged but didn't respond, showing no concern at Iceman's growing anger.

"I told you this is a waste of time," Bradley interjected. "We should've done what I suggested and gotten rid of the bitch. We don't need any of them. All they represent are three more loose ends."

"Like with everything else, let me worry about loose ends, Mr. Gray." Iceman's tone implied his complete disrespect for the rich businessman. There was definitely no love lost between the two.

"I believe it's time we change our banks, Jax," Max said cryptically. "Investlink Bank may have offered good interest rates and perks up to now, but I believe our money will be worth more at a reputable establishment."

"You won't be around to enjoy any benefits from any bank, you stupid fuck," Bradley sneered. "Never fear though, I'll make sure your money is put to good use… for my own benefit, of course."

Max's one eyebrow crawled higher. "For what? Buying your way into the Genolere Mafia? How naive are you, Gray? The moment Giovanni Lombardo has gotten hold of your money, you have served your purpose." He made a slicing movement with his hand across his throat. "Off with zee head, as they say in the movies."

"Oh, come on," Jax added sarcastically. "By your expression, he's already got control of your money. Isn't that right, Brad, my old man?" Jax pumped an elbow into Max's gut. "Ah fuck. It looks like I'm gonna be mayor whether I want to be or not."

"I've had enough of their ridicule. Either you do what you need to with these bastards, or I'm going to fucking shoot them," Bradley exploded indignantly. For some reason what Jax had said caused a film of sweat to glisten at his top lip and forehead. Bradley Gray had just realized he was walking a tightrope. One that was already too late for him to jump from.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Crowthorne, we need Mr. Gray to fill the mayor position. He's exactly who we need to achieve full control over New York State. So, therefore, as his biggest opponent in the polls, at the moment, we need to make sure you are eliminated, and he wins the votes of those who support you." Iceman clicked his tongue. "It's unfortunate for you, of course, that the fake news he spread about you being corrupt and in bed with the mafia didn't sway the majority of the public to spurn you." He smirked. "Just goes to show… people love corrupt politicians."

"Yeah, unfortunately, since they'll be voting for the real corrupt one," Jax snickered. "Except, I wouldn't hold my breath of that happening either."

"What the fuck do you mean?" Bradley glowered at him.

"Why do you think I ran for mayor, Gray? I've never had any interest in the office or a political career. Why all of a sudden make a three-sixty turn?"

"Stop talking in circles," Bradley sneered.

"You've been on the FBI's radar for a long time, Gray." Jax smirked at Stefan, who startled at his next words. "And you, too, although the powers that be weren't sure exactly who at the FBI was involved with the Genolere Mafia, but now we do. See, I've been working with a covert group to coax both of you to show your true selves. Seems it worked."

Bradley turned as white as a sheet, then a flash of red colored his cheeks as he took a step closer to Wick. "You fucking bitch! You knew. You were playing me all the time."

Bradley's hand connected with Wick's face in a sharp, stinging slap. The sound echoing through the cabin ignited a fury within Max that burned hotter than a thousand suns. The sight of Wick's head snapping to the side with her cheek reddening from the impact caused a primal rage to surge through Max's veins. It consumed every fiber of his being.

In a blur of motion, Max lunged forward. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. With a guttural roar that reverberated off the walls of the plane, he slammed his fist into Bradley's gut. The force of the impact caused him to double over in agony. Fueled by an all-consuming anger, he followed up with a devastating uppercut. His fist connected against Bradley's jaw with a sickening crack that seemed to hang in the air.

Max's eyes blazed with a fierce, animalistic intensity as Bradley's body lifted off the ground. His eyes rolled back in his head. The glow in Max's eyes was reminiscent of a tiger stalking its prey, ready to tear apart anyone who dared to harm what was his. When Bradley hit the floor, unconscious and broken, Max stood over him. His chest heaved with each labored breath.

"Anyone touches her again, and he's a dead man."

The tension in the cabin was palpable. The air was thick with fearful anticipation. Iceman's men shifted uneasily as their hands hovered near their weapons, ready to draw at a moment's notice.

"Relax, Mr. DuPont. We don't want anyone else to get hurt. We're here to have an amenable conversation. Mr. Gray…" Iceman smirked. "Well, as usual, he overstepped." He cast a warning look at Stefan, whose hand curled around his gun. He glared at Max with a mixture of hatred and grudging respect. The muscles in Stefan's jaw tightened as he fought the urge to retaliate. "Isn't that right, Mr. Jurgens?"

Iceman, ever the calculating leader, sought to defuse the situation, but in Max's ears, his words dripped with a false sense of civility. He wasn't fooled. Beneath the veneer of calm, a storm was brewing,

"Of course." Jurgen's lips barely moved as he grated the words out through clenched teeth. It was evident he didn't like the shift that had just happened.