Except, the plan is based on West and his team being able to track Bastian down, and all Wren was able to get from tracing the call to my phone was the general area. Fairfax, Virginia.
It takes us half an hour to make it through security, and Doc gets tenser by the minute.
I’m numb. Four hours spent memorizing all the sick details of Bastian’s crimes. Another thirty minutes learning codes and phone numbers in case we’re cut off from the team. Then the GPS trackers. I rub my right ass cheek as we approach the gate. It still stings. The tiny devices might only be the size of two grains of rice, but they hurt like hell going in.
The gate agent scans our boarding passes. The long walk down the jetway feels like the end. Of everything. I haven’t been on a plane in eight years. Too risky. And now, I’m about to be trapped on one. With at least three men who want me dead. And the man responsible for killing Logan. I don’t care that Kerr is eight rows behind us. It’s enough to know he’s there.
The worst part of all of this? Doc and I haven’ttalkedin hours. He doesn’t want me anywhere near the CID office. With what I know—what I’ll have to confess to—there’s no doubt I’ll be arrested immediately. There’s so much I want to say to him. A week’s worth of tenderness. A year of apologies. A lifetime of stories and questions and plans.
But I can’t find the words. So when the plane lifts into the air, I rest my head on his shoulder and cry.
“Natasha.”
A warm hand cups my cheek, and I lean into the touch. It’s the best dream. Doc holding me, in bed, the sunrise shimmering over the waters of Puget Sound…
“Wake up, baby. We’re going to land soon.”
I jerk upright, my gaze pinging wildly around the cabin. No. No, no, no. We were supposed to have five hours together. Instead I passed out within minutes of takeoff.
“How could you let me sleep the whole time?” I wriggle out of Doc’s arms as the flight attendants make their final pass through the aisle.
“You were exhausted.” His voice is rougher than usual. Dark circles brace his eyes. I doubt he slept at all. No. He kept watch. All night.
“You’re the one who needed rest.” Anxiety sinks in my stomach. The plane races toward sunrise, lower and lower until lines become roads, specs of color coalesce into cars, and my hope for a future together fades away. Doc leans closer and brushes his lips to my ear. “West and Inara are in the terminal. Trevor, Ella, and Vasquez are watching the CID office. We’re not alone. We’ll get through this.”
The plane touches down with a jolt. I turn my face into Doc’s shoulder to stifle my sob. “I wasted so much time.”
He nudges my chin up, and his eyes hold so much emotion. Fear, determination, and maybe…love. “Don’t go there. We’re going to get through this. I want a life with you, Natasha. I’m not giving up. Promise me you won’t either.”
Before Bastian’s call came in yesterday, Wren told us how sacred she—and all of Hidden Agenda—consider those words.I promise.
I can’t say them. But maybe…I can show him how I feel. Sealing my mouth to his, I pour everything into one passionate kiss. Doc’s hand slides down my back, all the way to my ass. If it weren’t for the seatbelt, I’d be in his lap, damn all the people around us. His tongue sweeps over mine. He takes as good as he gets, pulling a moan from my throat, nipping at my lower lip, and reaching between us to cup my breast and skate his thumb over the hard nub of my nipple.
I have to tell him. Now. Before I lose the chance forever.
“I’m falling in lo—” My phone beeps in my pocket. I drop the damn thing and almost lose it between the seats. But Doc rescues it and presses the device into my hand. “Gladys?”
“Baby girl, tell me you didn’t come…”
She doesn’t sound right. Weak. Sad. Distracted.
“Of course, I came. What’s wrong? Did they hurt you?”
Someone jostles Doc’s seat, and he hisses out a breath. A tall man in a three piece suit moves into the aisle next to him. “Give me the phone, Natasha.”
I blink up at Kerr, and he snatches the device from me, ends the call, then claps his hand on Doc’s shoulder. “That pinch you felt was a dose of fast-acting insulin. In five to ten minutes, you’ll be unconscious. In thirty—unless Natasha does exactly what she’s told—you’ll be dead.”
Doc grabs Kerr’s wrist, but the man shakes off his hold easily. “I haven’t…eaten anything in twelve hours…asshole. I won’t have…ten minutes.” Sweat dots his brow, and he tugs at the neck of his Henley.
“Doc? God. What do I do?” I surge up and jab the call button, but all around us, the other passengers are getting their luggage. The flight attendants can’t get to me even if they want to. Doc’sbreathing is too rapid, and he’s starting to shiver. His pupils are blown.
One of the men from the row behind us joins Kerr. He unzips a small, black pouch and shows us a syringe. “This is glucagon. It’ll counteract the insulin. Eventually. Once you’re off the plane, Natasha, I’ll give it to him.”
Doc fumbles for my arm. “No choice… Do what they say. But don’t turn yourself in…unless you know…it worked and Gladys…is safe.” He’s shaking harder now. His words are starting to slur. Kerr grabs my elbow and lifts me to my feet.
“Time to go, bitch.” He muscles me around Doc, but at the last moment, I throw my arms around the man IknowI’ve fallen in love with. Quickly, I slide the folded letter into Doc’s pocket. He said he didn’t want to read it, but…it’s all I’ll ever be able to say to him.
“Now!” Kerr growls.
