Brink of Extinction | Book 2 | Stay Alive

of gray snowfall coated the windshield. The rubber ends of the windshield wipers swiped from side to side, knocking it away from the glass.
What is that?
“Can you find a way out of this mess?” Anna asked, her voice thick with worry.
“I’m trying, but—”
The engine coughed, then stalled. The interior lights running along the ceiling and on the dash died. The propellers wound down, sending the aircraft plummeting toward the earth.
Acid bit the back of my throat. A wave of adrenaline made me lightheaded. I closed my eyes and mumbled a prayer under my breath.
Thunder exploded every few seconds, rattling the powerless aircraft. My fingers gripped the ends of the arm rest and curled under the slick metal.
The pilot ripped off his headset in a fury, then dumped the headset into the black space between his seat and the cockpit. “Make sure you’re strapped in and secured back there. I’m going to have to make an emergency landing.”
Oh, shit.
Anna pulled her headset off, then threw it to the floor. She shouted at me, but I couldn’t grasp what she said. Her hand smacked my bicep, trying to steal my attention from the window.
The nose of the plane plowed through the dark swollen clouds ignited by blasts of white lightning and rumbling thunder. I gripped the armrest of the seat tighter, preparing for impact.

CHAPTER TWO
 
 
SCARFACE
Even the most powerful men plead when you put their feet to the flames.
Jackal dragged Andrès’s bloody body across the rich tile floor by the scruff of his collared shirt. The flashlight in his hand illuminated his bloody face and clothing. His head sagged, chin pressed against his chest as his knuckles scraped over the smooth surface.
The recessed lights in the ceiling flickered, then vanished. Darkness laid claim to the inside of the spacious, luxury home, cloaking any and all as shadowy figures.
“Please. You don’t have to–do this. I’ve got money. Lots of money.” Andrès lifted his arm, reaching for Jackal’s wrists. Thin lines of blood ran from the corner of his lips and down his chin. The feeble attempt to break Jackal’s hold made the aged gangster look even more pathetic. “I–imagine we can make–some sort–of deal here.”
“Why do they always beg like dogs in the end instead of facing what’s to come like a man?” Jackal tossed the broken and beaten man at my feet.
“For some, meeting the end is never easy. Once you’ve been the king of your own world, it’s hard becoming a peasant,” I replied, looking down at his bloody rags. I trained the small Maglite I pulled from my coat pocket at the back of his head.
Andrès lay prone on his stomach, his face a scant inch away from my dress shoes. “What do you want? Who sent you?” he asked in a whimper. “You’ve killed all of my men and have left me exposed against rival gangs. Why have you done this? Who hired you?”
Jackal stood watch like a sentry, scanning the large bay windows and dark hallways for any movement with his flashlight.
I slipped my shoe under Andrès’s shoulder and flipped him onto his back. “I’m going to keep this short and to the point, seeing as my business associate and I are running on a tight schedule. Lawson and his companion, where are they going?”
“I–I–” Andrès stumbled over his words. “I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.” I smashed his hand with the heal of my shoe.
Andrès wailed in pain, screaming with his eyes clamped shut.
I kept the pressure on and dug into his hand. “Again, where is Lawson and the girl heading?”
“I don’t know, all right,” Andrès said through a painful cry. “All I know is that he wants to get back to his wife and kid and needed to use my plane. He never said where they were going, and I had no intentions of letting him use it anyway.”
Jackal dipped his chin, stared at the howling man, then cut his eyes up to me.
“The plane. How do you track it’s movements?” I removed my foot from his battered hand. “I know you’ve got some sort of beacon or GPS locator, or some other way of being able to do it.”
Andrès pulled his arm back and cradled the damaged hand. “What? What do you mean by tracking?”
I grabbed a handful of his sweaty hair, ripped his head back, then rammed my knee into his face.
He flew onto his back, hitting the floor with a dense thud. He turned his head to the side and coughed. Blood spewed from his dark, red lips, splattering against the tile.
“You’re not too good at listening, Andrès. I told you we are on a time table here, and each second you waste of mine only makes this more painful for you.” My fingers repositioned over the United Cutlery Push Dagger—a weapon I’d used many times to extract those most hidden secrets from my marks.
Andrès coughed, writhing in pain as he rolled to his side.
“We’re wasting time here,” Jackal craned his neck and peered through the blinds of the large window before us. The light reflected off the glass. “He could have more men inbound. We need to wrap this up and ghost.”
“I’m working on it.” I shoved Andrès over onto his back with the sole of my shoe and stood on his arms. I lowered down and traced his face with the tip of the blade. “I know you have a way of tracking that plane of yours. Tell me now or I’m going to peel off your face, slow and painful like.”
“All right, just stop.” Andrès shouted and pleaded.
I pushed the dagger into his skin, drawing a line of blood that ran into his beard. “Speak.”
“There is a GPS locator on the plane,” he answered.
“How do you track it? Phone? Computer terminal?