“Isis, Iplannedon being at the cabin no later than four-thirty; it’s hittin’ on six now! Had you not come outside talkin’ ‘bout outfits and lashes, like you was getting dropped off at the damn Met Gala, we’d be on schedule! I was trying to beat the sun going down!”
She scoffed. “Bryce, calm down. You’re talking to me like I’m one of your passengers.”
“Nah, if you were one of my passengers, you would’ve been denied boarding—too much baggage and zero fuckin’ compliance.”
“Well, you’re a pilot, Bryce. You’re used to pressure, so this shouldn’t be stressful for you.”
I cut my eyes at her. “And you’re a flight attendant, so you should already know, when I give a command, you comply. That’s protocol. You wear a uniform to serve the people in control. So serve silence right now, because you’re in my whip, on my time, heading to my cabin.”
Her mouth flew open. I dropped the conversation and focused on the road before she made me miss my damn turn.
I didn’t fly planes to deal with turbulence on the ground.
Two minutes later—exactly when my patience dropped to negative-fuckin’-infinity—Isis shouted so loud I damn near jerked the wheel.
“Oh my God! Is this where we’ll be staying?! Please tell meyes!”
I didn’t answer, mainly because my eyes were glued to the shiny black Denalisitting bold as hell in the driveway.
That’snotChesteria’s car… unless she got a new one. And it’s too late for a maintenance person to be here.
“Wait here,” I threw at Isis, opening the door.
“Is something wrong?” she called after me.
“Can you just—wait. Damn.” Every syllable was a warning.
I stomped across the gravel, scanning the SUV. The nighttime made shit harder to see, but the dome light was on inside, and that’s when I saw the items:
A fitted cap chilling on the passenger seat. One of those masculine cologne trees hanging off the mirror. And a half-empty bottle of men’s lotion in the cupholder.
A nigga is here.
My jaw flexed so hard I damn near cracked a molar.
“Motherfuckas got me fucked up, thinking they about to be parlaying in my shit for free,” I muttered as I walked toward the porch, and my thoughts spiraled.
That wasn’t an Airbnb people could just rent. Me and Chesteria debated, thought on it, hell,almostlisted it, and then said,hell no. That cabin was ours.
Our space. Our investment. Our second home.
So someonehadto break in… because there was no damn way Chesteria was crazy enough to take a nigga up there.
But look at me talking;I brought a whole walking headache with lip gloss and her unpopular opinions.
I turned around and damn near collided with Isis, who was shivering like a wet Pomeranian.
“I told you to stay in the car.”
“You tell me to do a lot of things, Bryce,” she shot back, hugging her coat tightly. “Every time you tell me to do something, it sounds bossy, though, so I don’t listen.”
“Clearly.”
I turned away from her little rebellion, crouched down on the porch, and lifted the loose wooden floorboard. My hand wrapped around the gun I always kept tucked there.
Isis shrieked and jumped back. “Br-Bryce! Who is that for?!”
I glanced at her, expression flat, and chambered a round.
