Dante
Waiting on the tarmac, I watched as the cartel's plane landed at a small airport outside Kansas City. With my arms crossed, I leaned against my Aston Martin with a smirk on my face. A light jacket covered my holster and blocked the autumn chill in the air.
The seal on the plane released with a whoosh before the door opened, lowering the stairs. Aléjandro stepped out into the sunlight. Behind sunglasses, he scanned the tarmac, his gaze landing on me.
It had been a week since we'd flown home from San Diego ourselves, and a week since I called my brother-in-law with my theory.
Brazen.
Aléjandro shook his head as he came closer. “Nice car. Not as nice as my Porsche."
“Ten f*****g times better than your Porsche."
He looked around. “I thought Mia might be here. You know I haven't
