Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kris
The first thing he noticed about the small airport they landed at was that it was bumpy as hell. Getting out of Ishmael’s private jet, he saw why. It was little more than a grassy field. The second thing that he noticed was the humidity.
“Where are we?” he asked, feeling stupid about not having asked earlier. After the rough fucking, he’d gotten dressed and fallen asleep in his seat from exhaustion. He’d woken up only when Ishmael shook him awake, telling him to drink the bottle of J20 he held in his hands for him. That had been only about an hour or so ago, he reckoned.
“Götaland,” Ishmael replied. “Sweden.”
“Sweden? When I woke up I thought we’d been flying for a while but I was thinking, I dunno, Scotland or the Channel Islands or something. But Sweden? You bought a house in Sweden?”
Ishmael laughed. “Not just any house. My house.”
“And a car,” Ollie added, pointing to a car parked next to the hangar. “I’ll just go get the keys.”
“What do I do with the package?” Ezra asked.
“Take the duvet off the bed and stuff him in the cover. Then shove him in amongst the bags and stuff him in the trunk.”
Bed? There’d been a bed, and they’d had sex in the aisle in front of everyone?
Oh, yeah. Kink. Duh. Humiliation is pain, et cetera et cetera. Hold on, did he just refer to the package as a he?
Josh sniggered as he followed Ezra back into the plane. “I can’t wait to see the look on Crichton’s face.”
Oh, right. Crichton. Fuck! He was on the plane? I thought he was dead, like Victor.
He flicked his surprised gaze over to Ishmael’s.
“Ah, you didn’t realise Crichton was travelling with us. Don’t worry, he was restrained and in the back, on the bed, with the door locked from the outside,” Ishmael said, his tone meant to be reassuring.
“Are you, are you going to kill him?” Kris asked, his voice low and his tone urgent.
“Most assuredly. But it cannot be a quick death for what he has done, and since there wasn’t time to do it properly there, he had to come along.”
Oh fuck.
Ishmael reached a hand out, threading his fingers through Kris’ hair. “Don’t worry, sweetling. You won’t have to watch.”
Thank God for small mercies.
Ollie pulled up in the car and rolled down the window. “Keys were right where he said he’d leave them.”
Ishmael didn’t bother to reply. Instead, he opened the door for Kris to get in. Once Ishmael was also comfortably seated, Ollie pulled closer to the plane where Josh and Ezra were now standing with their luggage on the tarmac, including a cloth bundle Kris knew to be Crichton. “Good thing this comes with a roof rack. You Swedes really do think of everything.”
Ollie stepped out. “There’re some bungee cords in the boot. Put the suitcases on top and fasten them down, then the carryons into the boot.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill,” Josh said good-naturedly.
As they loaded the roof rack first, Kris stole glances at the figure on the ground. Kris hoped he indeed wasn’t dead already. He didn’t want to ride in a car with a dead body. He sagged in relief when he noticed the cloth rise and fall ever so minutely with the breaths of the man within it.
Listen to you. Ride in the car with a dead body! And which would be worse? Getting stopped and them finding a dead body in a duvet cover or finding a live, kidnapped guy in the trunk of the car? Huh, Kris? Got an answer for that one?
Ishmael trapped on the window. “For fuck’s sake. What’s happened to your common sense? Fill the boot first,” he growled, jabbing his finger at Crichton.
“Oh, shit, I didn’t even think.” Ollie popped the boot back open.
“Damn it, I don’t know where my head was at either,” Ezra mumbled.
