Page 64 of Maximum Bet

The men look toward each other. One cocks his head in question while the other nods.

“Fine. Pay up first. But if anyone asks, we never saw you.”

“Yeah, no worries,” I say, pulling out the cash. “Your secret is safe with us.” I give an exaggerated wink.

The man I hand the cash to rolls his eyes but splits it with his partner, and they walk away.

Marco and I share a smirk before slipping inside and keeping close to the wall.

In the hangar, there is a surprising lack of security. A couple of Medina team members mingle with a few Kozlovas near the entrance, and the pilots talk around a coffee station in the back, but otherwise the area is unsecured.

“I guess they’re not really worried when Kozlova and Perez aren’t here,” Marco whispers.

My phone rings again. I send Leo to voicemail.

“Okay.” I turn to Marco. “You take this jet.” I point to the closest. “I’ll take the other. Set fire inside. Pour gas in a line, starting in the back and moving forward. You’ve got to move quickly. As soon as you’re done, ditch the suitcase inside and exit the back door.”

“Wait, seriously?” he whines and holds up the suitcase. “This is a custom Tumi. Do you know how long I waited for this?”

I glare at him. “Go.”

He grumbles but listens to my command, crossing to the tail of the plane and staying low as he heads toward the stairs.

I walk briskly along the back wall until I can hide under the other jet. I scan the area, ensuring no one is watching, before climbing the stairs.

The cockpit and cabin of the plane are empty, giving me a minute to set up. I place Nico’s suitcase on a chair and unzip it. Pulling out the gas canister, flame thrower, and a box of fire-starting kindling, I prepare to burn the fucker down.

I start in the back like I instructed Marco to, pouring gasoline and tossing kindling sticks to the sides of the aisle. I make sure to douse the chairs and sides of the plane the best I can, emptying the excess fuel on the dials in the cock pit. I check outside the plane’s door to ensure no one is watching before lighting the blow torch and throwing it to the ground.

I don’t wait to make sure anything lights, because if I do, I’ll be burnt to a crisp in about ten seconds. Before I hit the bottom of the stairs, I feel the heat from the fire against my back.

The second my feet meet concrete, I take off.

Through the underside of the opposite jet, I see Marco doing the same. We race toward the back wall as the fires grow. A loud pop sounds behind us as a window blows.

“What the fuck?” someone calls out before a chorus of yells and curses breaks out.

I bump against my brother as we reach the exit door at the same time.

“Go, go, go,” I hiss, pulling the door open and shoving him through. Before I exit, I take one last look at the damage we caused. Flames lick out of the windows and doors of the planes, destroying everything inside. I slip through the back door, letting it slam behind me.

“Fucking run!” I yell. From the air traffic control tower, an alarm sounds as Marco and I race behind the hangars to the car.

We’re almost to the parking lot when a vehicle reverses, blocking our exit. I falter briefly before I realize it’s Nico in our SUV.

Leaning into the backseat, he throws open the door, allowing us to jump into the car without being seen.

“Holy fuck.” He laughs once we’re safely inside. “What did you do?”

“Incapacitated them.” I smooth down the front of my black button-down while I work to catch my breath. Nico pulls out of the parking area and waits as a fire truck zooms past. The ground vibrates with an explosion.

“Jet fuel is very flammable,” Marco says with a nod.

“Very.” Nico smirks.

He drives toward the exit with little fanfare and tells us to duck as he rolls the window down to leave.

“What happened?” Nico asks the guard at the gate, concern lacing his tone.