door into his seat. He pushed the Start button to his sports car and let the V8 engine loose as he floored the accelerator.
“Cy! Are you there? Are you okay? Answer me, dammit!” the voice yelled from the car stereo.
Gemma looked around at Cy to see who was talking and saw that Fred had released his grip on Cy’s arm and was now curled up in his lap as he drove at break-neck speeds through the streets heading toward the 405 freeway.
“Who’s that?” Gemma asked as she held onto the door when Cy took a corner at sixty miles per hour.
“Who
“Bimbo? Excuse me, but I’m not a bimbo. I’ve been chased, shot at, and am now trying to survive this lunatic’s driving. If anything, I deserve a freaking medal. So back off,” Gemma’s shout turned to a scream as Cy shot onto the freeway at well over a hundred miles per hour.
“Didn’t realize you’re in the car with my brother. You do deserve a medal. He forgets he’s not a racecar driver anymore . . . or well, maybe he still is. Now, Cy, we need to talk.”
“It’s okay, Pierce. You can talk with Gemma in the car. Are you okay? You didn’t get arrested again, did you?” He took a quick glance at Gemma and almost laughed as her eyes widened before slamming shut as he zoomed around cars and trucks on the freeway.
“I remember. I remember everything. It had nothing to do with me. It was you they were after. They kept asking about you . . . where you were and how to get in touch with you. They were planning on killing me, and then capturing and torturing you when you came home for my funeral,” his youngest brother told him in a rush.
Dammit. That changed everything. He was no longer going to have the time he thought he would to capture Mr. X and his gang. They knew where he was and had figured out his real last name. His cover had been blown —dammit!
“I’m on my way home and I’m bringing someone with me. I’ll be there by breakfast.” A plan was already formulating in his mind as he drove toward LAX.
“What’s going on? What are you involved in that someone would go to these lengths to find you?” Pierce asked. Cy could see Gemma turning and looking at him with the same question in her eyes.
“I’ll tell you everything when I get there. I’ll meet you at the farm.”
“Okay. Be safe, bro.”
Cy ended the call and took a deep breath.
“What . . .” Gemma started before being cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. The number came up as Unknown and Cy figured it was his boss.
“Is the plane ready?” Cy asked as he answered.
“Yes,” the deep, accented Middle Eastern voice answered. “You’ll land at the private air field around eight- thirty in the morning. That is, if you can get out of Los Angeles alive.”
“Ahmed?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get this number?”
“John Wolfe does not have anything on me,” Ahmed answered seriously. “Now, you seem to be having some problems with a man I am particularly interested in and I want to offer my services.”
“I'd appreciate that. I’ll see you at the farm?”
“Yes.”
The line went dead and Gemma turned to him. “Who was that?”
“Ahmed. He’s like the Secret Service for the Prince of Rahmi. He happens to live in the town we’re going to,” Cy explained as he turned off the freeway and onto West Century Boulevard heading to the airport. He followed the signs to the private jet field and parked in a reserved spot. His car would be shipped home with the rest of his stuff soon. He didn’t know how practical a sports car would be on the farm, but it sure would be fun on those twisting country roads where he grew up.
“This is the CIA’s plane. Well, kinda. It was confiscated from a weapons dealer and we’re just using it until it’s sold at auction. We’re flying to the prince’s private runway in Kentucky,” Cy told her as he handed her Fred and picked up all the bags.
“I got that part. What’s the plan after that?” Gemma asked as she looked up the steep stairs leading to the plane.
“I’m still working on it.”
“Working on it? You don’t have a plan?” Gemma stopped climbing the stairs and looked behind her to glare at Cy.
“I believe the key will be in your sister’s notes. I won’t be able to develop a plan until I know what we’re working with.”
“And you think we’ll have those resources in Kentucky? We should be staying here and working with the LAPD.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about resources. You haven’t met my brothers yet. Or for that matter, the rest of the town,” Cy grinned.
CHAPTER SIX
Cy leaned back in the light tan leather seat as the plane shot down the runway. Gemma sat next to him with Fred curled up in her lap. As soon as the plane leveled off, Cy turned to her and placed his hand on hers.
“You okay?” he asked, pulling Gemma back to reality. She had been thinking of Christmas when she and Gia were just seven years old. They had been embroiled in a debate over Santa Claus and Gia was determined to prove he existed. They fell asleep at eleven-thirty, but when they woke up the next morning, the cookies had been eaten and a note left by Santa telling them how sisters were the most treasured gift any girl could ever get.
“Yes. Sorry. What?” Gemma blinked her eyes and looked out the window into the dark night sky before looking back at Cy’s handsome face. He may be edgy and slightly dangerous looking, especially with his five-o’clock shadow, but the way his warm hand relaxed her made her think he couldn’t be all that bad. He did save her life after all—twice.
“If you wouldn’t mind, and since you’re not too happy with my lack of plans, can we take a look at what was so important that someone is trying to kill you?” Cy looked down at her purse and Gemma similarly looked down at it. Inside was the key to everything, but a force was holding her back.
Gemma finally took a deep breath and handed Fred over to Cy. It was time to see what Gia had gotten into. She opened the large bag and pulled out the three notebooks. “What’s that?” Cy asked and pointed at the almost- Greek-looking symbol on the bottom of the cover.
“It means one. We had a secret language.” Gemma’s eyes misted as she remembered sitting at the dinner table having their secret conversations about school, boys, and how horrible their mom’s chicken was—all while their parents looked on in confusion. It was theirs and theirs alone. She couldn’t remember when it started; they had just always had it from the time they could talk. Gemma opened the notebook and swallowed hard. The notebook was filled with their language . . . every page and every line.
“What the hell is all that?” Cy asked as he looked at the notebook.
“It’s all in our secret language,” Gemma said as she shook her head.
“Can you read it?”
“Some of it. It’s been over ten years since we talked it, even more since we wrote it. Since high school, I think. It’s going to take me a while to go through this and try to remember all the symbols for the alphabet and for certain words.” Gemma felt crushed. From what she could see, it meant nothing. She remembered some words for her name and some other random words, but not nearly enough to translate it.
“Don’t worry,” Cy said as he placed his hand on her knee and gave it a slight squeeze. “You’ll remember. I don’t know if I’ll be able to help, but I’ll do whatever it is you need me to do.”
Gemma looked up from the notebook and over where Fred had curled up in the crook of Cy’s arm and fallen
