Page 26 of Maximum Bet

As I sip on my Chianti, I remember my recent purchases at La Perla, and the idea of a photo shoot doesn’t seem so bad.

With a coy smile, I say, “Deal.”

Chapter 11

Dominic

The scent of tropical flowers permeates the humid air outside San Juan. As the sun lowers below the horizon, evening insects hum in the brush. Marco, Nico, and I hide, hovering low in the undergrowth.

“I swear to God, if I see a fucking snake . . .” Marco swats at something buzzing past his ear.

“If you get bitten, I’ll find you an antivenom,” Leo says over our earpieces. “Just stay where you are. Kozolva’s plane is two miles out.”

Marco grunts but remains in place.

“No sign of Perez,” Nico whispers, despite the fact that the few men on the tarmac wouldn’t be able to hear us even if we were screaming. He lifts binoculars to his face, scanning the airport again.

Propped on one knee, I do the same, but the chain-link fence a few feet away makes it difficult to recognize faces. “I’m getting closer.”

“Careful,” Leo warns. “I was able to hack into the security feed. There are guards on the lookout by the air hangar to the north.”

Heeding his warning, I creep forward and take partial shelter behind a thick palm. The sun is nearly set, allowing me to hide in the shadows despite the runway lights.

Overhead, a telltale rumbling disturbs the jungle’s rhythm. A jet engine is coming our way.

“Is this him?” Nico’s voice lifts as he speaks into his earpiece.

“Should be,” Leo replies.

On instinct, the three of us crouch lower as the plane approaches, flying only yards above. I close my eyes and cover my head as the brush whips side to side and palm leaves threaten to fall.

I open my eyes in time to see a puff of smoke following the plane’s tires when they hit the tarmac. The aircraft slows to a crawl before turning off the runway and toward the hangar.

“Shit,” I mutter, raising my binoculars. “They’re going to deplane inside.”

“Are you fucking serious? We hiked into the jungle for nothing?” Marco scoffs as he throws his hands to the sky.

“We hardly hiked.” Nico shakes his head. “Leo dropped us off a hundred yards back.”

“There could be fucking tigers out here,” Marco continues his rant, searching side to side as if a large cat is about to pounce.

“There are no tigers in Puerto Rico,” I snap. “Now, shut the fuck up and watch for Kozlova and Perez.”

We fall into silence, attention back on the activity at the airport. I’m beginning to lose hope as the plane turns into the structure, but before the doors close, a caravan of three Mercedes sedans appears around a corner. One waits for the planeto park, then enters the hangar behind it; the other two wait outside as the large metal doors shut.

“Perez?” I ask, trying to get a view of the men climbing from the two remaining cars.

Leo whistles. “Medina Cartel, for sure. I recognize a couple of them.”

“What’s our game plan?” Nico asks, dropping his binoculars to his side.

I weigh my options, standing. “I say we follow them. Leo, how far out are you? Can you get us to the airport exit before they leave?”

“I’ll be at our meeting spot in two minutes. Whether or not we can catch up with them depends on how fast you can get to me.”

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here,” Marco says, already headed in the direction we came. In response to his heavy footsteps, a creature runs past, rustling the undergrowth. Marco’s scream has Nico and me cringing and lunging forward to slap some sense into him.

“What the fuck was that?” Marco hisses after my hand connects with the back of his head.