I glare at him and fight for a minute before submitting and gulping down his revolting spit.
His lips twitch. “See, you are still mine. You still crave my control. Fight if it makes you feel better.” He releases my nose and mouth, just as the car comes to a stop. The door flies open, and I lift my head, spotting Mike crowding the entrance.
“Undo her legs, so she can walk. We don’t want any good Samaritans alerting the police. Leave her arms, I will cover them with my coat.”
Mike grins as he grabs my ankles and tugs me so I slide off Gideon’s lap and bounce onto the hard floor. I hiss as a shot of pain vibrates up my spine.
“Fight me, and I’ll break your fucking legs. You’ll be in a wheelchair for weeks,” Mike utters.
“I’d believe him if I were you, baby, he has quite the temper. Had to cover up a nasty incident on New Year’s Eve with a woman who wanted it—until she didn’t.”
The gears in my head turn. Mike assaulted Gillian, and Gideon helped to cover it up, making Fox the fall guy. Did sheaccuse Fox because she’s scared? Or did they do something to make her believe he really hurt her?
Mike undoes the belts around my legs, then sits me up as Gideon wraps me inside of his coat. They frogmarch me to the waiting plane, flanking me on both sides. There’s no hostess waiting to greet us. They’ve no doubt gotten rid of as many witnesses as possible. I’m sure Gideon is already planning the news of my rescue and return, about how he and his beloved have sacrificed so much for the city.
Mike pushes on my shoulder and forces me into a cream leather reclining seat before Gideon pulls the seat belt across my lap and yanks it tight. He winks at me. “Safe and sound now, Honor.”
I snort. Safe? Gideon? What a joke. He drops into the seat next to mine, and I eyeball the gun holstered at Mike’s hip as he takes the seat across from us.
The curtain at the front of the plane slides open, and a stunning woman with brunette hair and blue eyes appears. Gideon’s hand lands on my thigh in warning. “You try to signal for help, and Mike will slit her throat,” Gideon whispers in my ear.
“Gentlemen, ma’am, would you care for a pre-flight drink? The pilot is just clearing us for takeoff.”
“Champagne for me and my wife. We are celebrating her safe return to my arms.”
My arms are bound—drinking should be fun. She nods, her gaze lingering on me a second longer than necessary. Her eyes tighten before she floats off down the aisle. My instincts tell me she knows, but I hope she’s not stupid enough to do anything about it.
The speakers click, followed by a male voice. “Apologies, Mr. Lowell. We are just waiting for confirmation from the flight tower. There’s been an incident at the local airport, and all flightsare temporarily grounded. Sit back and enjoy the champagne, it shouldn’t be long.”
I freeze before forcing my shoulders to relax. That voice is familiar. I risk a quick glance at Gideon, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed my reaction. I’ve flown on private planes with Gideon before. He doesn’t own one, but the rich tend to share their shit among themselves. Perhaps this is someone who has flown us before? Or maybe… No. That’s ridiculous. Hope will get me killed.
The woman appears with two glasses of champagne on a tray. She puts two small circular cloth coasters on the table before placing the flutes in front of us.
“Anything for you, sir?” she asks Mike. His gaze sweeps over her, making my throat tighten. Mike is as bad as Gideon—he too needs a visit from karma.
“Maybe later,” he drawls. “It’s a long flight.”
She doesn’t miss a beat as she works her way back to the front of the plane. Perhaps she’s used to it? Doesn’t make it acceptable. The curtain swoops closed behind her, and I hear the click of a lock, followed by a door opening and closing. Is that normal? To have the hostess in the cockpit?
Mike glares at me. If Gideon wasn’t here, I think he’d be inflicting his own brand of pain.
I arch a brow. “What’s up, Mike? Still pissed that I slipped through your fingers not once, but twice? You know, I walked straight past you on the street in New York. A change of clothes and hair color, and your tiny brain failed to see its charge disappearing right under your nose.”
His jaw tics as Gideon chuckles. “Careful, baby. I’ve promised Mike some alone time with you.”
I swallow. Gideon is too possessive to share me, right? Mike’s mouth pulls up in a predatory grin. “You’ll be lucky if you can crawl away after I’m done with you, Honor.”
I tilt my head as I wrestle my body and mind for control. Now is not the time to panic. “Is your attitude masking a micro penis? Is that why she fought you? Couldn’t make her come?”
He leans forward, leveling me with his gaze. “Your used up cunt holds no interest to me. My plans for you are far more…torturous in design. And Gideon will ensure the procedure gets redone just for him.”
My head snaps to my husband. “I’m assuming Fox wasn’t lying, and you gave away something that was rightfully mine. So, I’m going to reclaim it. This time, I’m going to make it so each and every time I fuck you, you bleed, scream, and shake in fear. You did this to us, Honor. I was willing to give you pleasure, but it’s clear that needs to be removed to keep you in line. If you can’t come, you won’t look elsewhere for it.”
I grind my teeth together. It’s another scare tactic. Even if it’s true, I will survive it. Eventually, he will slip up, and the second he does, I won’t run again. I will take his life and rid the earth of a monster, sending him south to the fiery pits of Hell where he belongs.
Gideon reaches out and plucks up a glass, sipping deeply from the champagne while ignoring my glass. He thinks tempting me with a drink I used to relish is a punishment. Now, I’m a neat bourbon kind of girl. Champagne makes my stomach twist.
His grip on my thigh lessens. I frown at his slack hand before darting a look at Mike, who is tapping away on his phone. Probably researching torture techniques and planning my punishment. I twist my arms in their binding, trying to ease my aching shoulders.
