They had crossed the Ohio border over three hours ago, and Peter was damned sick of being in a car. On the bright side, Izzy sat next to him wearing cotton shorts and a tank top that showed enough cleavage to make him a happy guy. The midafternoon sun shined bright in a baby blue sky that stretched over miles of open land and pastures. Nothing but lush green plants and an occasional lonely tree. Yep, Monk and Izzy, just a carefree couple out for a Saturday drive. At least until they found Billy, the guy who sent Peter into a life-altering, homicidal rage a few weeks back. Good times all around. Fuck. “There it is,” he said, gesturing to the gleaming white Gulfstream parked in front of a hangar. Billy was probably waiting inside. The sudden pain in Peter’s jaw seemed to indicate he needed to lighten up on the teeth grinding. This would be no picnic, but if he didn’t square things, Vic wouldn’t let him back to work. Peter opened the driver’s side door.
