KADE
Garrett's face when he stepped onto that jet and found me sitting in his seat instead of whatever bloody mess he had been expecting was something I was going to enjoy for a very long time.
He stopped at the top of the steps, dressed in one of his expensive grey suits, hair combed back, every inch of him screaming old money and borrowed authority, and he looked at me and then looked around the cabin at his pilot sitting very quietly with a gun no longer at his head but the memory of it still very much present in the air, and then he looked back at me. His face went through about four different colours in under three seconds. "Why are you in my jet?" he roared. "Where are my men? What did you do to my—"
"I killed them," I said pleasantly. I had Cade on my knee and he was eating a pac
