Luciana climbed off the fourth plane in less than twenty-four hours, her legs as shaky as a new-born foal.
She hated small planes at the best of times, but one of the nice things about being as rich as fuck was that at least you got to fly on private jets, that got you from A to B in pretty damn quick time.
Apparently, though, those swanky private jets with bathrooms and bedrooms and decent food, were quite high on the FBI’s watch-list, so if she was going to be travelling around the USA in her hunt for her father’s murderer, according to Pedro, it had to be done ‘under the radar’!
Even now, she wasn’t exactly sure what would have constituted ‘over the radar’, but thanks to her fuckwit of a lieutenant, she had taken three planes and a bus, just to get from LA to the outskirts of Philadelphia.
A bus! What the fuck was the man thinking?
She now had the mother-fucker of all headaches, a crick in her neck that left her barely able to turn her head without wincing, plus pain in her back that it would take Marta a week to massage out!
Shit! Fuck!
Marta!
Why was it that every time she’d closed her eyes in the last twenty-four hours, the only face she could see was the woman who had given her so much in the last few years? The woman who was as close to a friend as it was possible for a cartel boss to have.
The look of shock on Marta’s face as she slid down the wall was the only way Luciana could see her now. But there was something else in Marta’s expression too. Not betrayal, as such… more… disappointment.
That was it. Marta seemed to be disappointed in Luciana, that after all she had done for her boss, Luciana had ended Marta’s life in such a ridiculous and childish fit of temper.
Luciana’s cheeks burned with shame as she realised it was true. She’d killed her friend in what one could only describe as an immature tantrum.
How disgusting a person did that make her?
Oh, she’d killed people before. Holy fuck, she’d probably killed more than a hundred.
But those had been deliberate acts, and for the most part they’d deserved it.
Ok, maybe ‘deserved’ wasn’t entirely true, but at the very least, they’d put themselves in the way of her bullet by virtue of their career choices.
Some of them were cops or with one of the agencies, which in Mexico meant they were either corrupt or idealists. Either way they were a pain in her ass, and highly disposable.
If not law enforcement, then they belonged to a rival cartel, in which case it was almost an obligation to shoot them. Nothing less would have been acceptable to her men.
But that was all so different. That was business.
“Senora?” Pedro’s voice broke into her misery. “There’s a car waiting outside to take us to the hotel.”
“A car?” She scoffed. What was it going to be? A rust-bucket station-wagon?
Pedro smiled at her so smugly she was tempted to slap him, but Luciana didn’t want to draw any attention to the two of them.
“A nice car, I promise you.” He reassured her.
“It had better be.” She grumbled. “Or you’ll be travelling in the trunk!”
When they left the small building, Luciana was never more relieved when she saw the smart Lincoln waiting at the kerb.
She slipped into the back where a man was already waiting.
“Senora Vega.” He smiled. “I hope your trip wasn’t too arduous.”
“It was a fucking nightmare, as I’m guessing you already knew, Max. So, wipe that fucking grin off your face before I remove it permanently.” She snarled.
Max Vega was a distant cousin of Hector’s, who spent most of his time in New York, dealing with their customers and negotiating new lines of business.
He was an asshole, in Luciana’s humble opinion, but he did seem to know how the business worked, and he had a good line of customers ready and waiting for whatever product they could ship into the country.
More importantly, he actually liked his life just the way it was, and, thankfully, had no wish to take over the cartel. That made him something of an ally.
It had only taken one phone-call to Max yesterday to have him hightail it to Philly with a couple of his men, to try and get a glimpse of the target and any of his family.
“So, what have you got for me?” She asked as she slipped her shoes off her aching feet. “Have you seen the Russian yet?”
“We spotted him this morning at the house, and saw him leave with a couple of men and women at about ten o’clock.” Max confirmed. “He arrived back just before one o’clock, but my guy couldn’t see who had returned with him because of the blacked-out car windows. Plus, he had to keep back because of the increased security numbers.”
“How many security people does he have at the house?” Luciana asked.
“We’re not quite sure, as not all of them will be security, but we saw about twelve men there before he went out. There seemed to be more than that later, but maybe he’s just brought some people back for a business meeting.” Max shrugged.
“Ok, so did you get the weapons I asked for?”
Max grinned.
“Yep, even the rocket launchers.” He looked exceptionally pleased with himself. “Are you really gonna start a war with this guy?”
“He’s responsible for my papa’s death.” Luciana’s voice was steely, and the words were clipped. “Do you think you need to ask?”
“No, I guess not.” Max nodded. “When I get the men back to the hotel, I’ll go over the layout of the property with them. I’ll let you have a proposed plan of attack by the end of the day.”
“Why so long? Can’t we just get in and out?” She complained, too impatient to want to wait.
“You want to take out the daughter as well, don’t you?” Max waited for her nod. “Then we need to check the place out, so we know for sure when she’s there. If she doesn’t come near the house, we’ll just have to find out where she is. It’s just twice as much hassle if we have to do them separately.”
“Don’t forget that I want to be there when it all goes down.” Luciana reminded him. “Ideally, I’d love to pull the trigger myself, but if that’s not possible, I’ll settle for watching him being blown to pieces from a distance.”
Max nodded.
“All the more reason why we need to plan this thing properly.” He said thoughtfully. “You look like you need a few hours sleep. By the time you wake up, we’ll have a plan ready.”
Luciana was about to argue that she wanted to be involved in the planning phase, but then stopped herself. She did need to sleep.
Anyway, if she didn’t like the plan they came up with, then all she had to do was change it. It was her show.
One way or another, she was going to see to it that Gregor fucking Diminov was going to die soon. And if it was with his daughter’s lifeless body lying at his feet, so much the better!