“Not sure how he’s so comfortable putting his wife on a plane,” Archer grumbles. “He went fromabsolutely nottoyeah, fine, whateverreally fucking fast.”
“Because she’s proven repeatedly that she’s smarter than he is.” I peel his hands off my face, his forearms swollen and jacked with adrenaline-filled muscles, then I wrap my arm across his back and lead us toward the plane. “She’s always right. It leaves her smug with victory.”
“Victory implies a game,” he growls. “Or war. I’d rather be on a yacht in the middle of the Caribbean Ocean.”
“We’re flyingtowardthe Caribbean,” I tease. “If Cordoza’s thing is quick, maybe you and I could take a long weekend and go for a swim.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that.” He tugs me to a stop fifteen feet from the plane and swings me around. Slamming his lips to mine, he sucks the oxygen straight out of my lungs, emptying my chest and holding me up when, without his aid, I think I might fall.
Breaking our kiss with a noisy gasp, he presses his forehead to mine and searches my eyes. “I’m gonna be on Felix’s plane right behind yours. I’ll follow you out of the airport and as close to Cordoza’s house as security allows. I intend to speak to Jay Bishop and ask what precautions he’s put in place to keep his wife safe, and if he doesn’t double those precautions to cover you and Aubree, too, then I’m pulling the plug and getting you out of there. Whatever Cordoza says he wants, keep a cool head, tell him you need time to think about it, and then you get your ass out of there. With or without the Solomon sisters.”
“Let’s go,” Soph emerges at the top of the plane’s stairs, her long brown hair tied in a ponytail at the top of her head, her ballerina body clad in tight jeans and a body-hugging shirt. She wears weapons as easily as I wear a lab coat. “We need to make tracks, or we’ll get there late.”
“Best not to irritate our host before our meeting has even begun.” I step onto my toes and kiss the underside of Archer’s chin. “I missed you this week, Detective.” Lowering back to flat feet, I grab his jaw and force his eyes down to mine. “I missedbeing able to hug you anytime I liked. Don’t ignore me now while I’m still raw.”
Groaning, he wraps his arms around my shoulders and buries his face against my neck. “If you die, I’m following you into the afterlife.” He kisses my shoulder. My throat. The warm spot behind my ear. Then my cheek. “Stay in contact, okay? Now isnotthe time to play hard to get.”
“I’ll stay in contact.” I break his tight grip and take a step back. “Should I tell you to be careful, too, Detective?”
His brow shoots high in question.
“Ihave an invitation to this thing. Not only weren’t you invited, but you were specifically told not to come. If anyone is in danger, it’s probably you.”
“I’ll handle myself,” he grits out, his eyes firing with barely repressed rage. “I’ll handle you, too. Your only job is to zig when I tell you to zig, and zag when zagging is appropriate.” He exhales a shuddering breath, audible even above the drone of Cordoza’s plane. Then he licks his lips and nods. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“Okay.” I drag my fingers through my hair to combat a gusty tunnel of wind knocking it into my eyes, then I turn on my heels and follow Aubree up the steps of a jet objectively cooler than the Malones’. Dark, black interiors and rich leather seats. Gold trim and sparkling handles wherever handles are needed—it’s possible they’re actual diamonds. A woman waits by the door, her back to the closed cockpit, and smiles brightly. She wears a skirt suit that clings to her every curve, with a split in the fabric at her thigh, but the outfit in itself is not overtly revealing, nor is it inappropriate. I dip my chin, the onlygreeting she’ll get from me, then I turn and follow Aubree into what could only be described as a living room for rich people. Sofas on each wall, a coffee table in the center, and a thick, elegant rug pulling the entire space together.
He’s only missing the fireplace, fat cigars, and a drink cart ladened with expensive whiskey and five hundred dollars a piece glassware.
“Nobody warned me about motion sicknessimmediatelyafter conceiving a child.” Michelle Mancino—Ellie Solomon—slumps on a single chair, her hands on her still-flat belly and her chin almost resting on her chest. “This baby is the size of a lime,” she groans. “Asmalllime. But it already makes me puke every single time the earth spins.” She brings glassy eyes up to mine. “I wish someone had warned me.”
“Take this.” Soph rifles through a bag and plops onto the chair beside her sister, pulling out a box similar to the one I received in the mail. Opening the top flap, she selects a single purple pill and offers it in her open palm. “With water. You’ll feel better soon.”
“Oh good. More guinea pigs.” I select a seat and cross my legs, at least half of my focus on the air-hostess as she drags the cabin door closed and seals the latch. If I turn and peek out the window, I’m bound to find Archer hyperventilating. Or brawling with his brothers. Possibly both. The other half of my attention is split between Aubree setting her bag down and taking a seat beside me, and Ellie tipping her head back, chasing the purple pill with half a bottle of water. “Ever considernotmaking your nearest and dearest your trial participants, Solomon?”
“Ever consider there’s nothing in this world I would do to risk my sister—or her unborn child? So if I’m giving them a pill Jen created, it’s because I trust it completely?”
“Dammit.” Panicked, Aubree fists the chair arm, her breath coming faster as the plane taxis away from the private hangar. “We’re moving. We’re gonna goupsoon.”
Stunned, Soph’s brows shoot high on her forehead.
“She’s afraid of flying.” I shrug and settle back. “Physics creeps her out.”
“I’m not afraid of flying! I’m sensible and intelligent, and it’s weird that planes don’t have flapping wings like birds do. Why would you not pay attention to nature when you’re mirroring something that happens naturally? Birds fly. Therefore, plane people should pay attention tohowthey do it. Strapping rocket fuel to their puckered buttholes is not it.”
“Jen gets like this sometimes, too.” Smirking, Soph closes the box and tosses it back into her bag. “These smart chicks seriously stress out about gravity and how planesgo.” Settling back in her seat, she drops her bag onto the floor by her feet and glances past me to the cockpit, then to the hostess who takes her seat and straps in for takeoff. “I have men in place in New York already. They’ll observe as we land, disembark, slide into whatever car Cordoza has waiting for us, and then as we travel to his home.”
Ellie’s cheeks puff wide. “Sounds like a lot of motion to me. Motion sickness is especially gross when I am, in fact,” she closes her eyes as the plane picks up speed and sends us hurtling along the runway, “in motion.”
“Why does no one expect the wings to flap?” Aubree white-knuckles the armrest, gulping and glancing out the windows as we speed along the blacktop. “Flapping makes so much more sense.”
“Flapping would make my sicknesswayworse,” Ellie whimpers. “God, I couldn’t imagine.”
“So I guess this is on me and you, then?” I meet Soph’s eyes, stony and ready to work—unlike the other two. “Do we have new information since we last talked?”
She wraps her hand around Ellie’s, twining their fingers together and holding on as we goup.
My stomach drops, and a pained squeak escapes Aubree’s throat.
