higher price tag. Vance had served, same as me, and we were identical, but that’s where our similarities ended. Vance fed off of anything high-risk, but he didn’t like to get his hands dirty. “If it’s related to AES, Trefor would’ve called you.” I knew Adam. Despite hiring my brother, he was solid.
It was Luna’s turn to evade. “Maybe.” Scanning the office, he paused.
I waited.
Luna’s gaze met mine again. “Vance asked for a favor.”
Hiding my surprise, I made a calculated guess. “Security for a client.” Vance wouldn’t ask for a favor for himself, not from me, not from Luna, not from anyone. It wasn’t his MO. He was religious about not getting into any situation he couldn’t resolve himself. Or he used to be. A problem with a client seemed the only logical reason he’d call Luna.
Luna snorted. “How’d you guess?”
I may not have seen Vance in years, but he never changed. “What was your answer?”
“He asked to be met at the executive airport.” Luna glanced at his watch. “In thirty-seven minutes.” He looked back at me. “I said we would.”
“We,” I stated.
It wasn’t a question, but Luna answered it anyway. “He specifically asked me to bring you.”
“And you agreed.” Again, it wasn’t a question. Luna was a professional first, loyal second, and a shrewd businessman third. He would not only take the call, he’d do the favor because it would ensure quid pro quo.
“Yes,” Luna confirmed.
I didn’t blame him. Luna didn’t know the reason I didn’t keep in touch with my brother. He only knew there wasn’t any love lost when I filled out the hiring paperwork. In the in case of emergency contact section and the next of kin section, I’d listed Luna himself. When he’d asked why it wasn’t Vance, I’d said we weren’t close. Luna hadn’t pried, and I didn’t offer any more information.
Resigned, I stood. “With traffic, it’ll take thirty minutes to get there.”
Luna pushed off the desk. “You good with this?”
“Yes.” No.
“You lying?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I took my Sig Sauer P320 X5 Legion from the desk drawer, holstered it, and asked specifics. “Parameters?”
“He didn’t say to gear up, so I’m assuming it’s a client meet and greet.”
I gave Luna the full weight of my stare in a single glance. “Never assume anything where Vance is concerned.” It wasn’t a warning. It was the best advice I could ever give him.
“I get it.” Luna nodded once. “Point taken.”
He didn’t get it, but he would. Probably before the day was out. “Let’s go.”
The Gulfstream taxied to the terminal.
Luna checked his watch, then his gaze cut to a jet already parked. “No one’s come out of the Falcon.”
“I know.” It’d landed seven minutes ago.
Luna glanced at the counter behind us. “Customs isn’t going to meet them, so they didn’t come from anywhere international.”
I didn’t like assumptions, so I pulled out my cell and dialed base.
Tyler answered on the first ring. “What’s up, Pyro?” he asked, chuckling at the dig.
I ignored the nickname I despised. “I need a tail number run.” I gave him the N number off the Falcon. “Then check the most recent flight plan filed.”
“On it. One second.” I heard Tyler typing. “Okay… well shit, that’s interesting.”
Interesting was never good. “What?”
“It’s registered to Adam Trefor, as in personally. Not AES,” Tyler added. “Is he in town?”
Ignoring Tyler’s question, I glanced at Luna. “It’s Trefor’s personal plane.”
“Mierda.” Luna cursed in Spanish under his breath. “Ask Tyler who’s not on assignment right now.”
“I heard,” Tyler replied, typing again. “At the moment, no one, but Christensen was just here. Took Harm with him. Said he needed security at a jobsite. Want me to call him and redirect or come meet you myself?”
“Hold on.” I glanced at Luna again. “Christensen’s with Harm, Tyler’s on site, everyone else is in the field. Do you want backup?”
“No, leave it.” Luna’s gaze cut back to the Falcon. “Movement. Come on.” He headed toward the tarmac.
“We’re good,” I told Tyler.
“Copy that. And the flight plan says the Falcon just came in from New York. Let me know if anything changes.”
“Will do.” I hung up and shoved my phone in my pocket as I followed Luna. The automatic glass doors of the small terminal slid open, blasting us with south Florida midday heat. We were halfway to the Falcon when Adam Trefor appeared at the top of the steps.
In a custom suit and aviators, his dark hair way past regulation, Trefor looked more like a philanderer than a lethal killer. Scanning the airstrip