“I thought you said he’s fine,” she sneered.
“Fine means not dead.”
“And the other reason?”
I parked the car and faced her. “The second reason is we don’t know who or why someone did this. But somehow they knew the exact moment to pull up and grab you guys clean.”
“They were tracking him?”
“Or you,” I said.
Her mouth fell open. “But why?”
“It doesn’t matter. One of you is comprised. If you call, you could lead them to us and all of that we just did would be for nothing.”
“So you expect me to get on a plane going God knows where with you?”
I took the bag packed for me out of the back seat and put the rental car keys under the front seat for Griffin’s people.
“I expect nothing from you.” I opened the door, but before I got out, I added, “You are welcome to go in the office over there and borrow a phone to call your white knight. I’m sure the Highlander would love to whisk you off and spend some alone time with you, wife.”
The door slammed shut on her protest.
“Listen here, buddy,” she said, racing to catch up to me. “We are not married.”
“The State of New York would say differently.”
I nodded at the man waiting at the bottom of the plane’s stairs before making my way up them. Her verbal assault didn’t begin again until we were inside the cabin. I took a solitary seat up front on the right. She sat in the one across the aisle.
“The only reason I’m going is because Griffin must have a good reason to send me anywhere with you. He doesn’t like you much,” she said.
“Whatever lets you sleep at night,” I said before closing my eyes.
“And the other is to set the record straight about this fake marriage.”
I held in a wince and willed my heart and cock to get on board with my head. This woman didn’t want me, so why did we still want her? It was long past time for me to move the fuck on.
Four
Lizzy
Whatever rant I’d been about to spout off ended when Striker said, “You mean the fake marriage you have yet to end? Have you asked yourself why?”
I had, a hundred times, and I had no sane answer.
He apparently did. “I have one if you don’t.”
“What’s that?” I asked tartly.
“My mother married a rich man.”
“You can’t think—”
He leveled his gaze on me. “What I know is in my haste to protect you, I didn’t protect myself.”
“From me?” I countered.
He shrugged. “I don’t really know you, do I? Right now, you could ask for a divorce instead of the annulment we agreed upon and take half of everything I own.”
I got to my feet as if anger controlled my limbs like a marionette. “Have your lawyers draw up an annulment or whatever that leaves you whole and I’ll sign it.”
Marching to the beat of fury, I moved to the back of the small plane, dropped my bag on the table, and sat in a chair two back from where I’d been. I could still see him lounging as if none of it mattered to him.
Before I could get comfortable, a uniformed blonde appeared, looking all googly-eyed at Striker. “Mr. Black, is there anything I could get you before takeoff?”
I was busy trying to understand what was up with the Mr. Black name—that was what he’d been called by our kidnappers—and missed most of his response. What I heard him say was, “My wife might want something.”
She’d been ready to ignore my presence, but her smile tightened as though she was fighting to keep it on her face. “Yes.” She walked my way, the smile slipping the closer she got. “Is there anything I can get you, miss?”
“That would be Mrs. And no, I’m fine.” Damn if I would let her get me a drink. She looked like a spitter.
She spun around, and though I couldn’t hear it, I imaged her heels clicking as she pranced her way to retrieve whatever Striker had ordered.
Two people entered the plane. A woman in a neon yellow and orange vest carrying a clip board turned toward the pilot’s cabin. The other wore a TSA badge and asked Striker for his passport. I had a moment to wonder what name the one he handed over had on it.
I said, “I don’t have mine.”
“Check your bag,” Striker said, peering back at me before his head once again disappeared from view.
I unzipped the bag I hadn’t packed and was surprised to find the satin clutch I’d brought to the wedding and had left behind. I opened it to find my passport which I hadn’t brought to the wedding. Someone had packed it for me. What was missing was my phone. I was about to ask when the TSA agent approached me. I handed over my passport without looking inside. I had no idea if it was mine or a fake one.
When he handed it back and walked away, I looked, and it was mine. The flight attendant was back, grinning at Striker as though he was a rock star. She handed him a crystal tumbler with liquid the color of molten lava. I realized then I was thirsty, but I refused to ask her for anything.
Connor –
The flight attendant didn’t have to send me a “down to fuck” text for me to know she’d be up for anything I offered, including shoving my cock down her throat. Unfortunately for her, I preferred a certain natural blonde with real tits and an actual personality. I also didn’t think the flight attendant would care who was sitting in my seat as long as it meant they could afford to charter a flight.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” she purred with a wide smile and an unspoken open invitation.
“I will.” I could have told her not to hold her breath, but I was saving my bastard responses for the woman behind me.
I checked my phone for the hundredth time. Griffin hadn’t sent me any updates. I shot him a quick text before turning off my phone as required by the captain’s announcement. Strapped in, I allowed my muscles to finally relax. I’d been on high alert for hours. She was safe. I shouldn’t be so tense. But seeing her helpless and tied to a chair, after hearing passing comments made by the men with guns, I was taken back to a past I’d thought I’d walled up long ago.
A quick glance behind me and I found frustration marring her pretty face. She was frantically going through her bag, looking for something. I thought I knew what that was, but there was a reason she didn’t have it.
The scotch went down smooth, but my turbulent thoughts were a different story. I closed my eyes as if that would bury the memories I’d suppressed for so long. But as weariness took hold, I wouldn’t find peace even in dreams.
Past-
I held her legs, but she used her hands to take mine. It hurt when she squeezed.
“Connor.” She used her angry voice. “Don’t embarrass us.”
I looked at my father, hoping he’d understand my fear. He knelt, and I stumbled over and wrapped my arms around his neck, my tears making his shirt wet.
“Please,” I begged.
He looked me in the eye—man to man, he’d always say. “Make me proud, my boy. Remember, I went here as a boy. You’re going to love it.”