I look over at her and nod in enthusiastic support.Declan won’t believe that’s why we’re late.No one would.Emma is a suntanned and windblown woman with fresh-out-of-bed, hot-sex, hot-mess hair.
And the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.
“And it was well worth it, because you look fabulous!”Declan gives me an appreciative smile when he says this, and I can’t help but smile back.I’ve never been a locker room talk kind of guy, but I’m ready to hire the Pacific Fleet Marching Band to announce that that I managed to snag Emma Clark.
“Did you pick it up?”I whisper this to Declan as I pass him to climb onto the plane after Emma.
“Yep.”He slides the small package into my hand, and I shove it in my front pocket.“Insurance documents are being overnighted.Only for you, my dude.You know how much I fuckinghateBeverly Hills.”
I pat him on the shoulder.“Appreciate it.”
I board, with Declan right behind me.He motions for the ground crew to wheel away the stairs and closes the door.“Off we go, everyone.”He heads to the cockpit.
We’re not alone in the plane.Declan has that other passenger he’d mentioned, though I was so focused on Emma I don’t remember anything he said about them.But I recognize him.He’s a feed broker we do business with.In truth, I’ve never been in close quarters with the guy before—I’ve only encountered him at the ranch and at a distance.
Special K calls him “Scarface.”
The man is wearing a cheap suit and unpolished shoes.He stands and extends his hand.I shake it.
“J.R.Perkins,” he says.He glances behind me at Emma, but she’s got her head turned away, like the airport tarmac is the most interesting thing she’s ever seen.
“Finn MacLaine.”
We both take our seats as the plane is already rolling toward the runway.
I do my best to hide my shock.
Up close like this, I get the full effect of the broker’s disfigurement.His face is hideous.That jagged scar is one of the nastiest I’ve ever seen, including hard-core combat wounds.His eyelid has been sliced clean in half, along with the eyeball itself.The jagged cut continues in a diagonal direction across the bridge of his nose, where it did a bang-up job of removing the edge of a nostril and the corner of his mouth.
That had to sting.
I know a lot about the damage knives can do to the human body, and this isn’t a scar from a lethally sharp weapon wielded in hand-to-hand combat.
This is the kind of fucked-up wound a man gets when he’s sliced by whatever happens to be lying around in the heat of the moment.A broken beer bottle.A pickax.A drywall screw.
I’m beginning to think the poor bastard chose the wrong night to wander down a dark alley.
I reach for Emma’s hand, but she isn’t giving it to me.I touch her shoulder, and she shrugs me off.I see her breathing heavily.
She’s turned all the way toward the window, as if she doesn’t want to see the inside of the plane.She’s reacting to the broker.Itisa gnarly scar, so I can’t exactly blame her for turning away.But something’s telling me that’s not the only thing that she finds disturbing about the man.
I glance across the aisle to see J.R.Perkins trying to look around me at Emma.I instinctively cover her with my body.He tries to say something, but I turn away.
I have absolutely no idea what’s going on here, but it goes way beyond her discomfort with flying.
She obviously wants to be left alone.I’ll apologize later, because that isn’t happening.I lean in and place my lips to her ear.“Emma, it’s okay.Whatever it is, I’ve got you.You have nothing to be concerned about.”
She shakes her head.
We take off and climb into the sky, gaining altitude.This jet is a beast in the air, nothing like a commercial carrier.We’re at our cruising altitude fairly quickly.“Can I get you something, Emma?”
Finally, she reaches around blindly to grab my hand.It doesn’t feel like her touch.Her hand is clammy and her grip is weak.
Perkins stands and points right at Emma.He’s beaming, smiling ear to ear.“Emily!I thought you looked familiar.”
I’m on my feet.I spin and tower over him.
He smiles at me and takes a step back.Nice and easy.Not a threat at all.Polite.
