On my way to the bathroom, I checked out one of the jet's suites which resembled a five star hotel— full bathroom, lush master suite with a large bed, and a forty-six television. The fragrance of leather and rose filled the space.
The bathroom was stocked with top-of-the-line amenities: fluffy white towels, bottles of designer gels, and lotions in every scent.
The stewardess was sexy. She was probably in her early thirties. Her curves were tight and sexy, her uniform clung to her chest. Her thick lips and large breasts made her look like she was made for a man's pleasure. The uniform was made up of a short skirt that revealed the curves of her thighs. Her breasts were plump and full, straining against her tight-fitting shirt.
As soon as I sat down, she walked over to me with seductive grace. The swell of her hips swayed with each step.
I might fuck that during the flight.
With a smile, she spoke in broken English letting me know that the jet was stocked with everything I could need--food, drink, and entertainment.
I felt like a VIP.
Then, Jean-Pierre sat in the seat right across from me.
Really, man? I know you have a suite back there.
Jean-Pierre had changed his clothes. Now, he wore a new impeccable suit. Finely tailored with a perfect fit. Large diamonds sparkled from his cufflinks. A big diamond clip shimmered on his tie.
He gave me a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Put your seatbelt on, Maxwell. We would not want anything to happen to you."
I leaned back in my chair. "Don't worry about that. Nothing will happen to me."
"You are certain about that?"
"You don't want the Mouse up in your ass. Ever had a mouse in your ass?" I shook my head. "I haven't but I bet that shit is uncomfortable as hell."
The jet’s engines roared to life and then it began to move.
I turned my view to the window.
The pilots must've been highly skilled. They executed take off with ease and the engine hummed a tune of power and agility. The plane glided down the runway and took to the air with the grace of a bird.
Light snoring sounded.
I checked the direction.
Boris slept in the back with the book now draped on his lap.
All that exercising today, must have tired him out.
Jean-Pierre’s security team of five surrounded him. Several more sat in front and behind me. All of them kept their eyes open and their full attention on me.
Something isn’t right about this shit.
They were all silent, but I could feel the tension in the air. I knew that they were just doing their job, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was being suffocated.
Therefore, I decided to remain awake with my gun to my side. There would be no slumber this trip. The Butcher was up to something. I guessed that he planned to make me his next victim.
Every few minutes he glanced my way with a neutral expression.
What’s this motherfucker looking at me for?
Perhaps, he knew my intentions with Eden. He did have cameras everywhere, but I’d made sure none were in my secret smoking spot.
Maybe, I missed a camera. Hopefully, I'm just paranoid.
The stewardess passed by, my dick jumped to attention.
She stopped next to me and bent over, speaking a mixture of French and English.
I got a good view of her round tits, but had no idea what she was saying.
She spoke again.
I licked my lips. “Yeah. I want whatever you said.”
Jean-Pierre waved her over and responded.
Smiling, she rose and headed away.
“What did you tell her?”
“I explained that you wanted a steak frites with an ice cold beer.”
“That’s the steak and fries, right?”
“It is.”
“I like that dish.”
“I know.” Jean-Pierre put his focus on his phone and typed. “I pay attention.”
I hope not too much attention.
I raised my eyebrows. “Eh. Where are we going?”
Jean-Pierre looked up and frowned. “Do you always need to know the destination?”
“Hell yes.”
"Lao Tzu said, 'Those who flow as life flows, know they need no other force.'”
"I don't know that guy and don't get what he's saying. I asked you where we are going?"
Jean-Pierre returned to his phone. “He was saying that sometimes it’s better to go with the flow of life.”
“Not when I’m with a dude called the Butcher. In that case, I would like to know all the details.”
He put his phone in his jacket. “I can’t give you details at this time.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t trust you, Maxwell.”
“And I don’t trust you, J.P.”
“You don’t get to call me that.”
“Says who?”
“Says my bow.” He gestured to the closed ivory leather violin case in the seat next to him. “Would you like me to play you a song?”
I smirked. “You and I know that my handsome ass is untouchable.”
His scarred cheek twitched. “Tell me something, Maxwell.”
I glared at him.
“Do you think Emily has tamed the Lion?”