“Like?” John buckled his lap-belt as the plane revved up and the female co-pilot moved through securing the stairs and door with a nod. John nodded back, and he and Layla returned to their conversation. “He’s a nice guy. And I don’t say that about just anyone.”
“How so?” Layla asked, munching and sipping, curious. Her nerves were settling now that they had arrived on the plane and everything had gone exactly as John had said. Some part of her still wondered if she wouldn’t wind up in prostitution in Indonesia, but the likelihood of that seemed small now.
“Well, Adrian’s intense, but he’s also intensely loyal to his friends, and he’s got a good heart.” John stripped off his suit jacket and laid it in the seat next to him as he talked, exposing a military-issue rig underneath with no fewer than three firearms and two vicious-looking knives. He saw her watching and paused. “Sorry, do guns make you nervous? I can keep the jacket on.”
“No.” Layla waved at him. “It’s fine.”
“Kay. You let me know.” He gave her an eyeball, but once he was sure she was telling the truth, he continued. “Well, Adrian. He’s well-off, you know, but he’s also curious about the world. It keeps him grounded. He’s the only heir to his family’s fortune, and they taught him all about finance. But he’s more than just a money-man. When you really get a chance to talk to him, you’ll see.”
“He seems young to be running an entire family’s fortune like that. How old is he?”
“I’ve not seen a birth certificate or anything,” John shrugged. “His passport says he’s thirty-six, but I don’t believe that.”
“He looks younger.” Layla recalled Adrian from the gallery. He had looked perhaps thirty-two.
“And he acts older sometimes,” John smiled. “You should see him in a boardroom. Commanding as fuck and doesn’t give a damn inch. Like he’s been leading armies for a hundred years.”
“I’d like to see that.” Layla’s brows lifted as she sipped her drink.
“Not at first, you wouldn’t,” John eyeballed her with a grin, “you’d probably run.”
“I wouldn’t run.”
“You’d run.” He chuckled, teasing.
“Iwouldn’trun.” Layla asserted, giving him a hard look.
“Nah, you wouldn’t, would you?” John sassed her back, his bayou accent rolling out a bit more. “You’ve got fire in your veins, that’s good. You’ll need it. Adrian can be hot-headed, too. I’m sure you’ll see that eventually.”
“And impulsive.” Layla commented.
“How so?” John eyeballed her.
“He buys a god-knows-how-expensive antique bracelet and snaps it on my wrist?” Layla lifted her arm, displaying the cuff in question. “Just to get me to work for him? Seems impulsive. And paying off my student loans in one fell swoop. Also impulsive.”
John chuckled genially, but there was something mischievous in his eyes as he held Layla’s gaze. “Yeah, you may be right. He’s a hard man to keep tabs on sometimes. I feel lucky I never have to guard his person.”
“About that.” Layla set her drink down. “Why doesn’t he need security, if he’s got as many enemies as you insinuate?”
John sipped his drink, then set it down. The plane’s engines revved high, and Layla felt the jet begin to taxi, though smooth as silk compared to a big commercial carrier. “You know how I said Adrian’s got strange abilities?”
“Like psychic abilities? Yeah.” Layla leaned in, intrigued. She wanted to hear more about this. As if her hamsa-burn wanted to hear more also, she felt a throb come from beneath the cuff, spreading a wave of heat through her body.
“Well, Adrian’s abilities keep him off a lot of radars, most of the time. And when they don’t, he’s got… skills.”
“Skills?” Layla pressed.
“Tactical skills.” John smiled. “The kind you don’t get playing ping-pong.”
“Oh!” Layla’s brows lifted. She thought back to what she had seen of Adrian in the gallery and at dinner. Tall with good shoulders but a whip-lithe body, he hadn’t been wan or willowy – that body had been all lean, intense muscle. And clearly, it had been developed by someone who knew what to do with it. “Was Adrian in the military?”
“Something like that. He’s been in his fair share of conflicts.” But John hedged away from the topic with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I can’t say more. Probably shouldn’t have said that much.”
“I get it.” Layla swirled her drink, thinking about it. She felt the jet turn as the engines roared. Presently, they were surging fast along the runway and she felt that queasy dropping sensation of liftoff as the jet angled up with a hard drive into the sky. Gripping her armrest with one hand, Layla’s other hand clenched on her glass. She enjoyed flying, but takeoff and landings were always nerve-wracking. John saw her tense and reached out, settling a big, warm hand over hers. Their eyes connected and a soothing flush moved through Layla at his touch. He smiled and she smiled back. She truly liked John. He seemed like a decent guy despite all the brawn and guns and Adrian’s damnable secrecy.
At last, the plane leveled out, gaining altitude more gradually. Layla breathed easier and John squeezed her hand, then unbuckled from his seat and rose, going to one of the cubbies he’d stored items in earlier. Fetching out a brown paper bag with handles, he opened it, then pulled out two paper to-go food containers.
“Steak for the lady, chicken for the muscle.” He set one in front of Layla, then fetched some silverware from a different cubby. “You want a plate?” He asked, eyebrows lifted, holding up a nice piece of china with a gilded rim.
