We buckle our seats as Sarah stomps to the back of the small plane, strapping herself into her seat. “I’m sorry about this,” I whisper to Zeta, rubbing a tense spot between my brows.
“If she so much as lifts a finger to touch you, I will rip the bitch a new one,” she hisses, lacing her fingers in mine.
I can’t help grinning at her possessive reaction, and my dick approves too, hardening to the point of pain. Taking her hand, I place it lightly over my crotch. “Look what you’ve just done to me.” Her lips curve into a small smile. “No one gets to touch me but you.” Her shoulders relax a little as she looks out the window, watching the plane start to move down the runway.
Once we’re up in the air, Sarah hands me a whiskey, her thumb deliberately brushing against the back of my hand as she gives it to me. I shove it back at her, drilling her with a dark look. “I didn’t order that.”
“It’s what you usually have.” She flutters her eyelashes, wetting her lips with her tongue. “And we have everything you normally order on the menu today.” She’s about as subtle as a brick.
Zeta laughs dryly, and the look Sarah gives her is almost comical. “Are you seriously hitting on him with me sitting right here?” Zeta narrows her eyes and sharpens her claws. “Because trust me, that won’t end well for you.”
I pull Zeta into my side, glaring at Sarah. “I’ve made quite a few changes in my life,” I tell her pointedly. “I’ll have a soda, and my girlfriend would like a sparkling water.” Okay, so I’m stretching the truth a little, but Zetaisgoing to be my girlfriend again, and she doesn’t look displeased that I’ve put it out there.
“She’s your girlfriend?” Sarah rakes her gaze up and down Zeta, zooming in on the ink on her arms, her lips pursing in disgust, and all it does is annoy the fuck out of me. “We’d like our drinks now!” I snap, and she jumps, clamping a hand to her chest.
Wearing a frustrated look, she storms off. Mike chuckles, and I flip him the bird. “Your choice in women leaves a lot to be desired, Ryder,” Zeta deadpans, scowling and digging her nails into her thigh.
“Tell me about it,” I sigh, fearing this eight-hour flight is going to feel more like eighty years.
“Can we forget about the bitch and talk about Luc.” She twists around to face me, easing out of my arm.
“Sure.” I wipe my sweaty hands down the front of my jeans, attempting to steady my nerves, because this story is not going to be easy to tell. “After Young was released from juvie, he went to live with his sister, her husband, and their two kids, but he couldn’t find work, none of his old friends wanted anything to do with him, and he was depressed. His sister reached out to me, and I got him a position with the crew on my tour. It was our first tour as the headline act, and things were pretty crazy.” I lean my head back, sighing. “I should never have brought him into that lifestyle.”
She squeezes my hand. “What happened?”
“We partied hard, and Luc enjoyed all the perks of the job. Drink, drugs, women. He was right there by my side. I loved having him around because it made me feel closer to you, and he was always like the brother I’d never had. But I was fighting my own demons, and I didn’t see what was in front of my eyes.”
Sarah returns at that moment with our drinks. When she’s handing the glass of water to Zeta, she purposely lets it slip from her fingers, and the contents spill all over Zeta’s jeans and shirt. Zeta eyeballs her with barely concealed anger as she pulls at her sodden clothes. “You’re pathetic. I’d expect this kind of behavior from a sulky teenager, not a grown woman. Can’t you at least try to act professional?”
Sarah pouts, and I stand. “I want a word in private.” I point toward the back of the plane before turning to Zeta. “There’s a bedroom up there you can use if you want to get changed.”
She nods, getting up wordlessly, her jaw tense and her expression ferocious. I pull her small overnight bag out of the overhead cabinet and hand it to her before walking to where Sarah is waiting.
“I knew you’d come to your senses,” she says, grinning, as she reaches out for me.
I clasp her wrist gently before she can touch me, dropping her arm back to her side. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully. You either act in a professional capacity, like you’re being paid to do, or this is the last time you’ll work on any flight for me or Torment. Pull any more stunts like that and you’re done.”
“But, Ryder, we were so good together.” She reaches for me again, and I step back.
“You were a mistake. A drunken fuck I don’t even remember. That woman you just threw a drink over is the love of my life, and there isn’t anything I won’t do for her. Getting a whore masquerading as a flight attendant sacked wouldn’t even register on the list of things I’d do for my girl, so get the fuck out of my face unless we need food or drink. You understand me?” I’m being unfairly harsh, but screw this shit. I’m fucking worried about Luc, and Zeta and I finally seem to be getting somewhere, so I’m fucked if some clinger is going to step in and ruin stuff between us.
“You’re a total prick.”
“I am. And you’d do well to remember it.”
I return to my seat, take out my cell, and ping a text to Rod. I have zero faith that Sarah’s going to toe the line, and I’m not putting up with her shit for the duration of the flight.
Zeta returns a few minutes later, wearing a jean skirt and a figure-hugging black top that accentuates her stunning cleavage. It drapes on one side, showcasing her gorgeous shoulder and olive-toned skin. She looks sexy as fuck, and I’m instantly hard again. It takes colossal effort not to drag her into the bedroom and beg her to let me have my wicked way with her.
“I had a word with Sarah, and she knows she’s fired if she steps out of line again,” I tell Zeta as she brushes past me into her seat. Unable to resist, I run my hand up her bare leg, and she shrieks.
“Ryder, behave. As much as I’d like to stick it to the bitch, I am not getting down and dirty with you on this plane.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” I joke, waggling my brows.
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. Reaching out, she runs her fingers through the scruff on my jawline. “I keep imagining what this will feel like rubbing against my thighs,” she purrs, lowering her voice so only I can hear.
My dick throbs, and I groan. “Not helping, babe.”
