The man in seat 2A had less than a minute to breathe, and Evelyn Foster was the only person on the plane who noticed.

CLANG!

The heavy stainless-steel dispenser struck the killer’s wrist with brutal accuracy. The silenced weapon dropped onto the wet tile floor, skittering into a stall.

The woman cursed in sharp Italian, recovering her balance instantly. She lunged forward, her fingers aiming for Evelyn’s throat with terrifying precision.

Evelyn didn't try to fight like a martial artist; she fought like a survivor. She grabbed a giant bottle of liquid floor cleaner from the janitor’s caddy and hurled it directly at the woman’s face while violently kicking the woman’s kneecap.

The woman stumbled backward over the wet tiles.

Evelyn turned, threw open the main restroom door, and burst into the terminal concourse just as the deafening fire alarm echoed throughout the entire airport building.

“Marco!” Evelyn screamed over the alarm sirens.

Marco Bellini and his two bodyguards had already drawn their concealed sidearms, instantly pushing past panicked airport passengers who were rushing toward the emergency exits.

“Inside! She’s inside!” Evelyn gasped, pointing back toward the restroom.

Marco didn't hesitate. He gestured to his two men, who swept into the restroom with trained lethal movement. A second later, two muffled thuds sounded through the wall over the blaring alarms.

Marco grabbed Evelyn’s hand, pulling her toward an employee access door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

“Where are we going?!” Evelyn yelled as they sprinted down a narrow concrete stairwell.

“Out of Ireland,” Marco replied, pulling a heavy brass keycard from his coat and swiping it across a security scanner. “The airport is compromised. The local police will lock down the terminal within three minutes, and Victor’s people have already infiltrated the perimeter.”

“What about the woman in the restroom?”

“My men handled her,” Marco said grimly, not slowing his pace. “She won't be reporting back to New York.”

They burst through a heavy steel door at the base of the stairs, emerging directly onto the wet, wind-swept tarmac. The cold Atlantic rain hit Evelyn’s face like tiny needles.

Parked fifty yards away, hidden in the shadow of a massive cargo hangar, sat a sleek, dark-gray Gulfstream G650 private jet. Its twin engines were already spooled up, emitting a low, vibrating roar that shook the damp concrete beneath their feet.

An emergency medical team was rushing a stretcher up the rear hydraulic ramp of the Gulfstream. On the stretcher lay Antonio Vitelli, an IV line hooked to his arm, an oxygen mask still over his face, but his dark eyes wide open and staring directly at the stormy sky.

“Get aboard!” Marco ordered, shoving Evelyn toward the boarding stair.

“Wait! My job, my life—I have a sister in New York!” Evelyn shouted, resisting at the bottom of the steps. “I can't just fly away on a private jet!”

From the upper gallery of the terminal behind them, three flashes of light pierced the rainy darkness.

POP! POP! POP!

Sparks erupted off the concrete tarmac three feet from Evelyn’s heels. High-caliber sniper rounds.

Marco grabbed her by the waist, physically throwing her up the stairs onto the carpeted floor of the private jet’s cabin. He scrambled up behind her, hitting the door close switch. The hydraulic ramp slammed shut, sealing out the gunshots and the rain.

Before Evelyn could even scramble to her feet, the Gulfstream rocked violently as its pilot throttled the engines to full emergency power, taxiing onto the active runway without waiting for tower clearance.

Evelyn slid across the leather cabin floor, coming to a stop near the medical bed anchored in the center of the executive lounge.

Antonio reached out his right hand, his heavy, tattooed fingers catching her forearm. His grip was surprisingly firm despite his condition.

He pulled off his oxygen mask with his other hand, his dark eyes burning into hers with absolute intensity.

“You’re safe now, Evelyn,” Antonio said, his voice raspy, deep, and completely devoid of panic.

“Safe?!” Evelyn gasped, trying to catch her breath as the jet leaned back violently, taking off into the stormy dark clouds at a steep angle. “Someone just shot at me with a sniper rifle! A woman tried to murder me in a bathroom! And your people just hijacked an airport tarmac!”

Antonio looked at her calmly, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with the aid of the IV medication.

“They tried to kill you because you kept me alive,” Antonio said quietly. “Which means as long as I am breathing, my enemies consider you an extension of my life.”