Relief washes over me, a firestorm of so much relief. Rick is here. We’re getting on that plane and getting out of this city. A city I have always loved, but right now, I do believe I’ve learned to hate it. The truck stops right beside the steps of the plane. Smith exits and by the time I’m at the edge of the seat, Rick is there, big, dangerously perfect, Rick Savage, dressed in all black, and smelling like spice. He takes my gun. I don’t know where he puts it and I don’t care. How can I? He’s pulling me to him, wrapping me in those powerful arms of his and dragging my head back to inspect me.
“You okay?”
“Once we’re on that plane in the air I will be.”
“Then let’s get on the damn plane and get out of here, baby.” He calls over his shoulder to someone. I can’t hear what and I don’t even care either. He lifts me and sets me on top of the steps leading up to the plane, but he stays close, right behind me. I’m just about to enter the plane when I pause, pull Gabriel’s ring off my finger, and twist to show it to Rick, right before I toss it away. Approval darkens his eyes and only then do I turn and enter the small but luxurious cabin, where I quickly inventory my surroundings. To my left are two cream-colored double leather seats. Behind them are a good half dozen single recliner-style seats that lead to the back of the plane. Rick comes up behind me, his hand on my waist, that possessive wonderful touch, everything. He’s everything.
“Get comfortable, baby. It’s a four-hour flight. I need to talk to Adrian and Smith.”
I rotate in his arms. “Can we just shut the doors, please? Before Alejandro gets here and kills us.”
“You do know you’re in love with a damn good killer, right?”
“I thought we were in denial of that fact?”
“Not right now, baby. We’re embracing it and loving it. Doors shut in two minutes.” He kisses me hard on the mouth and rotates me to face my seat.
I turn back around. “Gun?”
He pulls it from his waistband and flips it around to offer me control. The minute it’s back in my hand, the control feels good. Now, I rotate and head to our seats. I set the gun on the shiny table that sits like a coffee table to the duet of seats, I sit back and pull that table close. If I need to shoot, I am going to shoot. I count the seconds like minutes, until Rick is back inside the plane, pulling the plane door shut. He then walks toward the pilot, speaks to him or her, not more than twenty seconds before he joins me, claiming the seat next to me. The engine on the plane roars to life.
“What happened to Adrian and Smith?” I ask.
“They’re going after Alejandro. We’re going to New York.”
“Because he’s coming after me.”
He catches my hand and kisses my now naked finger. “Because we’re going home, baby. And home is good.”
“But is he going to follow us, Rick?”
“Baby—”
“Is he going to follow us?”
“Not if we kill him first.”
“In other words, Gabriel, Pocher, and now an assassin are coming for us.”
“No. I’m coming for them and we’re going home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Candace
The plane begins to move and a realization hits me. We’re leaving and I don’t think Rick knows what is going on with his father. “Your father. Rick, your father—”
“Smith had some of our guys pick him up. And Smith is taking him to rehab tomorrow. If he won’t stay, I’m done with him. If he does, I’m probably still done with him. And he probably won’t.”
“If you took him, he might.”
His lips press together. “It would not be good for me to see him right now.”
“He was on the floor in the hotel exit stairwell. He said his house was burning down. He said he burned it down.”
“Smith told me what he said. And yes, it burned down, but he’s a drunk, baby. The only thing you can trust about my father is his need for rehab.”
“I know, but—”
“Not now. I’m not in a place right now to talk about my father.”
“Okay. Okay, I—Oh God. What about my father?”
“No word yet, but we don’t expect our team to break radio silence for at least another hour. Asher is going to call the pilot when we have news.”
“Oh. Okay.”
He brushes my hair behind my ear, a tender touch, which has my stomach doing this butterfly flutter. “It’s going to be okay,” he promises. “Buckle up, baby. The captain said we’re going to hit some turbulence.” He inches over me, his big body draped intimately across my body, and he latches the buckle into place. He doesn’t immediately move.