we are a day or so behind schedule. I’m just glad he’s still here. If he’d taken off, that could’ve screwed us over good.” I honked the horn as we rolled up alongside the aircraft. The interior lights came to life inside the cockpit, then the rest of the plane.

“See. He’s awake.” I placed the SUV in park.

“We’ll see.”

The door cracked open, then lowered to the ground. A large man stood in the cabin with his flashlight trained at the Suburban. His unkempt beard and hair made him look more animal than man.

The beam hit me in the face, causing me to squint. I lifted my hand in the air, blocking the intense gleam of the light.

“That doesn’t look like Tony, the normal pilot,” Jackal said.

I grabbed the rifle from the floorboard next to me and killed the engine. “Mr. Coleman could’ve changed them out. Just be cool.”

Jackal slung his door open, then hopped down to the ground. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and breathed into his hands.

The pilot ducked, stepped out of the cabin onto the top step, then spoke, but I couldn’t make out what all he said.

Jackal slammed the passenger side door shut, nodded, then pointed at the SUV. I left the keys in the ignition and thumbed the headlights off.

The bite of the air dropped what felt like a few more degrees than before. Jackal wasted little time in getting to the plane and climbing inside the cabin past the pilot.

“You’re late,” Grizzly said in a loud, agitated tone.

“Couldn’t be helped. We had some–complications,” I replied. “Where’s Tony?”

“He was unavailable. Mr. Coleman asked me to take his place.” He lowered the flashlight, then stepped back into the cabin. “What sort of complications?”

I climbed the stairs and walked past him. “The earthquake and tsunami kind. Did you not feel the tremors here?”

“Some, but it didn’t seem that bad.” He shined the light at the Suburban again, then asked, “Where’s Lawson?”

“In the wind.” Jackal took a seat in one of the plush chairs.

Grizzly thumbed his light off, then turned back toward us. “What does that mean?”

I took a seat next to Jackal. Grizzly secured the door to the plane, severing the cool, brisk breeze. “It means that he’s on the run, and we’re going to track him down and make good on our arrangement with Mr. Coleman.”

He looked at me, then cut his narrowed eyes over to Jackal. His thick arms flexed as he chewed the side of his lip. “I believe Mr. Coleman was quite specific with the scope of work he hired you two for. He wanted Mr. Lawson brought back to him as soon as possible.”

“And that’s what we’re going to do,” I said, raising my tone. I secured the rifle on the floor between my chair and the wall of the plane, dug my hand into my coat pocket, then fished out the piece of paper. “Listen, I’ve got the last known coordinates of where Lawson was heading. If we leave now, we’ll be able to catch up to him and finish our assignment. You can reassure Mr. Coleman that we will finish this job and deliver the mark as promised. We’ve never failed a job, and I don’t plan on starting now.”

Grizzly took a step forward, then snatched the paper from my hands. He unfolded the crumpled yellow paper and skimmed it over. “I can’t let Mr. Coleman know anything since the radio is down. Has been for some time now. Same thing with my cell.”

“See. There you go.” Jackal added his two cents to the mix. “Get us in the air and to those coordinates and we’ll complete this assignment. At the end of the day, Mr. Coleman wants Lawson by any means necessary. Well, this is by any means. We’re wasting time sitting here when we should be in the air.”

Thunder rolled in the distance, rattling the plane. Lightning crackled, sharp and loud. Grizzly ducked, then looked out of the window to the blackness beyond the plane.

“We shouldn’t be concerned with that, right?” Jackal asked. “I can get a bit queasy during bad turbulence.”

“It’s not anything I can’t handle,” Grizzly answered, puffing out his wide chest.

“Listen,” I said. “Get us to those coordinates so we can finish this. Mr. Coleman wants his son’s killer at all costs. I doubt he would appreciate you taking that away from him.”

An awkward, tense silence draped over the plane like a cloak as we waited for the pilot to make up his mind.

Grizzly skimmed the paper one more time, then said, “All right fine. Make sure you’re strapped in and secured. We’re taking off. You better hope these coordinates are right.”

“Good choice,” I replied.

Grizzly squeezed between us and made for the cockpit. He settled into his seat and prepped the aircraft for takeoff.

Jackal fastened the seat belt across his waist, then folded his arms across his chest. A yawn attacked him–his mouth gaped open as his lids clamped shut.

I leaned forward in the seat and retrieved my travel bag from the floor. I set it in my lap, unzipped the top, and rummaged through the various items stuffed inside.

The plane thrummed to life as more thunder rolled overhead. Another wave of lightning crackled, causing me to flinch.

I pulled the bag open farther and trained the interior toward the lights mounted to the ceiling.

There.

Strawberry bubble gum. The one thing that helped me focus and calm my nerves. It was a subtle reminder of my daughter who used to chew the rich, flavorful gum. That was a memory I cherished.

The roar of the engine grew louder, bolder, as it readied to take off.

I unwrapped the pink paper, pulled a block of gum from the packaging, and plopped it into my mouth.

“Everyone hold on back there. This

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