“He’ll find you,” he says, and he turns me to the plane. “Get on the plane, Pri.”
I hurry forward and do just that. I get onto the plane. Don’t ask me why, when Adam already told me Adrian isn’t on board, that I hold my breath, but I do so and do so expectantly. When I round the corner to the fancy leather seats mixed up with lounge areas, a rush of disappointment overtakes me. No one is on the plane at all but me.
I don’t know what that means, but I hurry to the rear of the plane where I’ll be able to be alone—I hope—and where I can see who boards the plane. Choosing an area with a cluster of recliners, I sit down, my fingers digging into the leather. Dread fills me and I can’t beat it back. Adam might not know what happened to Adrian, but Blake or Savage, or even Lucifer, might. Any moment, any one of them could enter the plane and deliver bad news.
That moment comes now. Male voices lift as Savage appears in the walkway, so big the plane is dwarfed with his presence. He laughs at something someone says to him and then his eyes land on me and he’s abruptly serious. I’m not sure Savage is ever serious. The knots in my belly are back as he closes the space between me and him and claims a seat across from me.
“Nice shot, chickadee,” he states. “I’m impressed. Smart move. Shooting that asshole in the foot.”
“Adrian said losing a toe freaks a man out.”
“Almost as much as losing his man candy.”
I hold up a hand. “Please do not explain that statement. I get it.”
He grins but sobers quickly, studying me with an intelligent eye. “You okay?”
“Is Adrian okay?” I counter.
“I hate bullshit. Bullshit sucks. I’m not a bullshitter. Honest answer: I don’t know. He’s gone silent.”
There’s a pinch in my belly. “It’s not the answer I want,” I say. “but bullshit-free is preferred, so thank you.” And because I need to stay sane, I keep talking, shifting the topic. “How did you guys get me away from the police?”
“Blake pressured your boss to pull strings. Blake’s more convincing than the naked eye might expose.”
No doubt, I think. “What happened with Logan?”
“He’s fine. I saved the dipshit’s life, against my better judgment, and only to make your life simpler.”
“He told them he shot himself.”
His lips quirk. “Did he now?”
“You made that happen, didn’t you?”
The new guy, Beckham appears beside us. “Nice shooting there, Ms. Pri Miller. I’m sure as fuck not going to mess with you.”
“Buckle up!”
The shout comes from Blake. Beckham sits down next to Savage. Obviously, my plan to be alone is not working. About sixty seconds later, Adam is in the seat next to me. Blake and several other men are all huddled together up front. In what feels like a rapid progression, the doors are sealed and the engines roar to life. Adrian isn’t here. He’s not going to make this flight. I feel a need to throw up. I need off the plane. I reach for my belt. Adam captures my hand. “He wants you on this plane. Do this for him.”
I’m breathing fast—I can’t seem to control my breathing. The plane starts to taxi and I pull my hand from his. It’s too late to get off. It’s too late. I should not be on this plane. I lay my head back, letting the pillowed cushion offer much-needed support, letting the squeeze of my eyes hide my emotions from those watching. Instantly, I’m back at the restaurant, remembering Adrian’s mouth on my mouth just before he went over that fence. I was trying to save him, not kill him.
And now—he’s dead.
I know he’s dead.
The plane halts abruptly and I assume it’s waiting to taxi, but then there’s a commotion up front. I force myself to remain calm. We wouldn’t stop the plane to allow Waters’ assassins into the cabin. The door is thrust open. The swish of wind is furious. That’s it. I need answers. I unhook my belt, scooting forward and twisting to confront Adam. “What is happening?”
“I don’t know,” Adam states, unbuckling. “Stay here.” He leans into the aisle and when he stands up, he doesn’t go forward, but rather to the other side of the plane. What is happening? I scoot over to his seat and lean into the aisle. That’s when my heart all but explodes with joy. Adrian is walking toward me. I’m on my feet in two seconds flat, running toward him.
We come together hard and fast and when his arms wrap around me and mine around him, I can finally breathe again. I didn’t even know how much I needed to breathe until right now, this moment. He cups my face and kisses me, a long, deep, who-gives-a-damn-who-is-watching kiss before he says, “What the fuck were you thinking, woman?”