Secrets Collide (Bluegrass Brothers)

Gemma, bags and all, into the front seat. 
    “Get down,” Cy yelled as he returned fire and ran around the car to the driver’s side, leaping over the closed door into his seat. He pushed the Start button to his sports car and let the V8 engine loose as he floored the accelerator.
    “Cy! Are you there? Are you okay? Answer me, dammit!” the voice yelled from the car stereo.
    Gemma looked around at Cy to see who was talking and saw that Fred had released his grip on Cy’s arm and was now curled up in his lap as he drove at break-neck speeds through the streets heading toward the 405 freeway.
    “Who’s that?” Gemma asked as she held onto the door when Cy took a corner at sixty miles per hour.
    “Who are you?” the voice shot back. “Cy, now’s not the time to be messing around with some bimbo.”
    “Bimbo? Excuse me, but I’m not a bimbo. I’ve been chased, shot at, and am now trying to survive this lunatic’s driving. If anything, I deserve a freaking medal. So back off,” Gemma’s shout turned to a scream as Cy shot onto the freeway at well over a hundred miles per hour.
    “Didn’t realize you’re in the car with my brother. You do deserve a medal. He forgets he’s not a racecar driver anymore . . . or well, maybe he still is. Now, Cy, we need to talk.”
    “It’s okay, Pierce. You can talk with Gemma in the car. Are you okay? You didn’t get arrested again, did you?” He took a quick glance at Gemma and almost laughed as her eyes widened before slamming shut as he zoomed around cars and trucks on the freeway.
    “I remember. I remember everything. It had nothing to do with me. It was you they were after. They kept asking about you . . . where you were and how to get in touch with you. They were planning on killing me, and then capturing and torturing you when you came home for my funeral,” his youngest brother told him in a rush.
    Dammit. That changed everything. He was no longer going to have the time he thought he would to capture Mr. X and his gang. They knew where he was and had figured out his real last name. His cover had been blown—dammit!
    “I’m on my way home and I’m bringing someone with me. I’ll be there by breakfast.” A plan was already formulating in his mind as he drove toward LAX.
    “What’s going on? What are you involved in that someone would go to these lengths to find you?” Pierce asked. Cy could see Gemma turning and looking at him with the same question in her eyes.
    “I’ll tell you everything when I get there. I’ll meet you at the farm.”
    “Okay. Be safe, bro.”
    Cy ended the call and took a deep breath.
    “What . . .” Gemma started before being cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. The number came up as Unknown and Cy figured it was his boss.
    “Is the plane ready?” Cy asked as he answered.
    “Yes,” the deep, accented Middle Eastern voice answered. “You’ll land at the private air field around eight-thirty in the morning. That is, if you can get out of Los Angeles alive.”
    “Ahmed?”
    “Yes.”
    “How did you get this number?”
    “John Wolfe does not have anything on me,” Ahmed answered seriously. “Now, you seem to be having some problems with a man I am particularly interested in and I want to offer my services.”
    “I'd appreciate that. I’ll see you at the farm?”
    “Yes.”
    The line went dead and Gemma turned to him. “Who was that?”
    “Ahmed. He’s like the Secret Service for the Prince of Rahmi. He happens to live in the town we’re going to,” Cy explained as he turned off the freeway and onto West Century Boulevard heading to the airport. He followed the signs to the private jet field and parked in a reserved spot. His car would be shipped home with the rest of his stuff soon. He didn’t know how practical a sports car would be on the farm, but it sure would be fun on those twisting country roads where he grew up.
    “This is the CIA’s plane. Well, kinda. It was confiscated from a weapons dealer and we’re just using it until it’s sold at auction. We’re flying to the prince’s private runway in Kentucky,” Cy told her as he handed her Fred and picked up all the bags.
    “I got that part. What’s the plan after that?” Gemma asked as she looked up the steep stairs leading to the plane.
    “I’m still working on it.”
    “Working on it? You don’t have a plan?” Gemma stopped climbing the stairs and looked behind her to glare at Cy.
    “I believe the key will be in your