I pressed my lips into a thin line. “Okay.”
He ran his knuckles down my cheek and smiled. “I’ll pick you up at six.”
“Okay.”
He walked out my door and I fell against it with a sigh.
What the hell just happened?
* * *
Flash
LRG shook my hand andsmiled. “That was unreal!”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Sorry for the scare over Tacoma.”
“That was one of the best parts. Right, Lane?”
His assistant, Lane Samuels, accompanied us on the flight round trip from Portland to Seattle and gave him a reluctant nod. We’d hit a bit of a wind surge over Tacoma, scaring Lane to near tears which LRG seemed somewhat amused by.
I didn’t like this and took a minute to pull the woman aside once we landed in Seattle to make sure she was okay. She’d seemed put out by my question, which admittedly irritated me, but I tried not to show her that irritation.
LRG pulled me away from his assistant and slid an envelope into my hand. “A bonus for today. My card’s in there as well. I’d like to talk to you about flying for me exclusively.”
“I don’t do exclusive,” I reminded him.
“So you’ve said. But everyone has a price and I plan to find yours.”
I wanted to hit him.
I refrained.
“I’m glad you enjoyed the flight,” I said, nodding toward the elevator and the man in a suit standing with his arms crossed. “I believe your car is waiting.”
He reached out his hand and I shook it with a forced smile.
“Thanks again, Parker, right?”
“Right.”
He waved his finger toward me. “Do I know you? I feel like I know you. Have you flown me before?”
“I can say with confidence I’ve never flown with you before, Mr. LRG.”
“Call me ‘G,’” he said with a chuckle. “All my friends call me ‘G.’”
I nodded, forcing a smile.
Jesus, what a douche.
I waited for him and Lane to step into the elevator before I shoved the envelope in my jacket pocket, climbing back into the helo, and firing her up. It was a quick flight back to base, which meant I ran into Stick. Craig ‘Stick’ Brentwood was thirty-nine, single because he liked a variety of women (his words), and British. Not high-born British like my mother (also his words) but working class.
We were partners in the helo, and it meant we shared both the cost and the profits. The only thing we kept separate were any tips we received.
“Hey, brother,” I said.
“Hey.” He grinned and gave me a fist bump. “Short flight?”
