And for reasons I can’t define, I don’t want her answer to change. I kiss her, and it’s a demand for something, anything, which only she can answer; my need for this woman is seemingly the only outlet for the guilt I’ve lived with and can no longer manage to contain.
“Well then,” she whispers when our lips part, “I guess I’ll stay sitting right where I am.”
“Yes,” I say, my voice gravelly, my body tight. “You will.”
I don’t let go of her. I don’t want to let go of her, but I don’t cave to my craving for another kiss, either. Instead, I find myself simply inhaling, drawing in the scent of her—no perfume, none of the fakeness that has haunted my life these past six years, just utterly seductive. Now I want that kiss. Now I need it, but suddenly the plane lifts off the runway, jolting me back to the reality of the hell on wheels we’re living. Hell, everywhere we go, I think.
I release Gia, facing forward, running my hands down my jeans, and I am suddenly certain that everything that’s just happened is a product of the all-too-familiar thrum of energy that it’s time I admit is an old friend. It’s a part of me that I’ve lived with for a good few years since the fire. Trying to shake it off, I set my computer bag on the ground, reaching inside to remove the folder.
Gia shivers beside me. “Do you think they have blankets on this plane?”
“I’m sure they do,” I say, unhooking my seat belt to stand up and open the overhead bin, where I hit the blanket jackpot. I stand still a moment in thought, wondering why Jared making a joke about Gia had set me off the way it had. He’s been a close friend and a protector of my sister while I was gone. What the hell is wrong with me?
Grabbing a blanket and two pillows, I slam the compartment shut, rejoining Gia, who eagerly covers herself as I buckle back in. “There might be a little Prince Charming in you after all,” she teases, snuggling under the cover.
“Only if you have a fucked-up idea of Prince Charming,” I assure her, shoving pillows down beside each of our armrests for later use. Reaching for the file, I flip it open on my lap. Gia shuts it, her hand resting on top of it and my legs. “You’ve spent hours going over that file and the data and photos inside. We both have. Tellar Phelps, security guard, ex-military: Buzz cut, tall, muscular. Melody Ethridge, a new friend of Amy’s: Blond, twenty-eight, high-end real estate agent. Likes to shop.”
“Her brother,” I say tightly. “Derek Ethridge, Liam’s best friend and a wealthy real estate investor who has put together financial investment packages tied to the Middle East and the oil industry.”
“He also gave Liam a reason to be in Denver when he met Amy.”
“So Liam could design a downtown development. Right. It’s certainly a good alibi.”
“Alibi? He didn’t commit a crime by bumping your sister to first class to meet her, Chad. It’s actually pretty romantic.”
“It’s convenient. It’s all very convenient.”
“A major downtown development, which Jared validated as real, would require someone with Liam’s design credentials. And there’s proof in the file that it’s a real development. Those kinds of massive projects don’t come together without effort.”
“If this was a setup meant to make me expose my sister, it could have been planned for a long while.”
“How would they have known you were going to send her to Denver in time to plan it? Did you detail that to someone before the last minute?”
“Why are you trying to protect Liam Stone?”
She lifts the arm and turns fully to face me. “I’m not protecting him, but I see how much you care about your sister. She’s not going to feel like you do, though. She’s going to feel joy that you’re alive and then anger that you left her alone. If you’re not careful, you’ll push her away, and that only gives Liam more power over her. And if he really loves her, and she loves him, it could drive her away forever.”
“I’m not trying to be her hero, Gia. I’m trying to save her life. If Stone turns out to be a good man when this is over, she can be with him.”
“Will it ever be over? I’m not sure it will. Think about this. You can’t just go in there and kidnap your own sister.”
“Why the hell not?”
“She’ll be furious.”
“And alive, Gia.”
“Even if Liam Stone isn’t the bad guy here, Sheridan is going to expect you to go after your sister. We now know that he knows where she is. He’s going to be watching her, but he won’t touch her until you show yourself.”
“Even if that’s true for now, it won’t be for long. Sheridan knows I’m alive. He’ll find a way to use her against me. I have to go after her, and I’ve told you before: I always have a plan, and this time will be no different.”
“Earlier you said that plan was grabbing her.”
“And it still is. My way, on my terms, and safely. Now go to sleep. We have hours in the air.”
“I’m not done arguing with you, but I do need sleep. And so do you.” She hits the button to recline my chair and then lies down on top of me, pulling the blanket over us. And it feels good, dangerously good, and a warning bell goes off in my head. Meg didn’t cloud my judgment, but Gia could—if I let her. Still, I don’t move her away, the fingers of one hand digging into the arm rest, those of my other hand curling by my side. “You don’t trust me, but you’ll sleep with me?”
She tilts her head up to look at me, surprising me when she reaches up and runs her fingers over my several days’ worth of stubble. “I never said I didn’t trust you.” Before I can reply, she lays her head back down.
“Gia—”
“We’re both too tired to argue,” she says, without looking at me, her fingers curling on my chest, “and I’m definitely too tired to win. Let’s sleep.” She peeks up at me. “But for the record, I didn’t say I do trust you, either.”
She lowers her head again and I have no idea why, but my lips that never curve do so now, undoubtedly hinting at one of my rare smiles. And once again, it’s because of this woman.
I LIE STARING at the ceiling of the plane, the sweet weight of Gia on top of me somehow overriding my plans for revenge. I find myself replaying those moments in the hotel room when I’d been buried inside her, lost in nothing but her. Kissing her—and it’s with the memory of how she tastes on my lips that I finally fade into sleep.
Slumber predictably delivers a nightmare, and I wake with the touch of the tires on pavement and the taste of ash and vengeance on my lips.
Gia stretches, and I run my hands through her wild brunette mane, and I swear, I am so damn on edge that I want to drag her to the back of the plane and mess it up even more. She frowns as her eyes meet mine, surprising me when she reaches forward, stroking a lock of hair from my eyes. “I see the anger in your eyes.”
I cover her hand with mine. “It’s always there.”
“I understand, and don’t even think about telling me I can’t. You don’t know me well enough to say that.” There is a raw ache in those words, a sense of her dealing with how alone she is now; something I understand more than I wish I did.
She tries to remove her hand, but I hold on tight. “I want to know you, Gia. Everything about you—but I can’t. You know that.”
“I’m not asking you for anything except what you promised.”
“Which is what?”
“Sheridan’s destruction.”
There is a deep-seated anger roughing up her voice, shadowing her eyes, and for the first time, I’m clear-minded enough to question just how deep this need to destroy Sheridan runs for her. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“We’ve been through this.”
“No, I don’t believe we have.” The plane stops on the runway and, not about to linger inside where we could become targets, I add, “We’ll be talking again later. Count on it.” I stand up and turn to find Jared pounding away at his keyboard, unaware in a way he has never been. He doesn’t even realize I’m staring at him. Abruptly, his gaze lif
ts and meets mine, and there is something in his eyes, a warning I can’t read. But he’s sharp, and I know he’ll have checked on Gia. I just hope like hell that the truth he discovers matches what she’s shared with me.
The door to the plane opens behind me and I step into the aisle, giving Jared my back as I allow Gia to exit in front of me. The pilot steps into view, and he and I exchange a look of understanding about the need for his silence before I join Gia where she has paused at the top of the stairs.
“Let’s move,” I urge, my hand again going to her back, an action I’m making a habit of and can’t seem to stop.
“That SUV—”
“I arranged it.”
She sighs with relief, clearly more on edge than she let on in the plane. Peering over her shoulder, she confirms my conclusion. “I’m really nervous about being here.”
“I always—”
“Have a plan,” she finishes.
“That’s right.” I smack her ass and she yelps. “Now move. Lingering isn’t smart.”
For once, she doesn’t argue, hurrying down the steps. Jared takes the spot behind me, and I glance at him over my shoulder. “Anything I need to know?”
“Not urgently,” he comments at my back as I clear the final step, a reply that tells me he doesn’t want to speak in front of Gia, which means I’m not going to like what he has to say.
“IT’S HORRIBLE,” GIA says, sitting up on the ride through Brooklyn toward Manhattan, reacting to the poverty-stricken neighborhood around us.
“The crazy part about it,” Jared replies, “is that people live in poverty here on an income that would make them middle-class elsewhere.”
“Why stay, then?” Gia asks. “I don’t understand.”
Jared runs his hands down his jeans-clad legs. “If there’s one thing hacking has taught me, it’s that people stick with what they know and understand. And really, how would anyone living this close to the edge ever get to another city or state? They have no resources to start over.”
Gia gives me a concerned look. “Tell me we’re not hiding in an area like this.”
“The complete opposite,” I assure her, “but there are plenty of areas like this in the city.”
Her thoughtful gaze returns to the window. “I don’t think I’m going to like New York.”
“You’ll like it,” I promise. “You have to focus on the good, and forget the bad.”
She twists around to face me. “Forget? You say that like it’s easy, or even right.”
“You have to find a way to let go of certain things.”
“Like the past?”
“Yes. Like the past.”
“You make it sound like it’s easy when I know you don’t believe that. It’s not.”
“No. But it gets easier.”
“I don’t want it to get easier,” she whispers, turning away, and her pain is present between us, alive and real.
I’m glad I wasn’t with Amy to feel her pain, but not out of selfishness—rather, it’s out of fear I wouldn’t have been strong enough to tell her no when her safety was at risk.
We fall back into silence, and I’m strangely aware of Jared’s presence, as if he’s waiting for me to comfort Gia. As if he’s damning her, or me, or both of us, for what he believes is a relationship based on some sort of weakness. The idea that it might be condemnation based on something he’s found in her past grinds through me and suppresses my urge to reach for her.
It’s another forty minutes before we defeat traffic and reach midtown Manhattan, where I have the driver stop at a corner near a number of luxury department stores and a major subway stop. I pay our fare and send him on his way, covering our trail by never letting anyone see our endgame.
“Shopping time,” I explain as Gia looks around, her blue eyes big with the same wonder all first-time visitors to New York experience in the crush of people amongst towering buildings. “We need to be prepared for anything. That means we both need a full wardrobe and suitcases befitting our final destination, which is a money-driven neighborhood. And we need it all quickly.”
“And you didn’t allow the driver to know where that destination is,” Jared comments. “Smart.”
“It’s better than stupid,” I retort dryly.
“Yes,” he says, giving Gia a quick look before adding, “it is. Especially considering we still don’t know how Sheridan found you in order to insert Meg into your life.”
Gia reacts instantly, stepping closer to him. “I’m not Meg, if that’s what you’re inferring.”
“Just making conversation, Gia.”
“I don’t trust you any more than you trust me,” she replies.
“Good thing you aren’t the one handing out the cookies at the party, then. I’d hate to get denied a good snack.”
“Enough,” I snap, irritated that Jared didn’t keep this between him and I, even more so that he’s choosing to do this now, where it could escalate into attention we can’t afford. “Let’s make this quick,” I say, grasping Gia’s arm and stepping forward, setting us all in motion.
Jared eagerly falls into step with me while Gia double-steps to keep up, stumbling and falling. I twist, grabbing her waist to catch her and stand her up. Our eyes lock and hold, and she doesn’t have time to hide the uncertainty, the hint of fear, in hers. Things I can’t dissolve with words. “You okay?”
“I’m just fine. A perfectly peachy New York tourist.”
I have no idea why, but I laugh, and then she laughs, and the tension of the confrontation is gone. Lacing my fingers with hers, I ignore Jared, and start walking again, all of us falling into step.
“I’m surprised you’re touching me after his accusations,” she murmurs for my ears only.
“I told you: If you die, it will be my choice. I’m keeping you close enough to make that decision myself.”
“Thanks for that comforting thought.”
I offer her nothing more. Not until I find out what’s at the root of Jared’s attack.
FOR THE NEXT hour we shop, and I douse every objection Gia offers over the expense of our purchases. I need us ready for any event, action, or travel, without another outing, and I press to ensure that’s what I get. Finally, we’ve spent enough to buy a luxury car, but have managed to acquire full wardrobes for all three of us, along with accessories and various beauty products for her. When all is said and done, we each pack a brand-name suitcase with shopping bags, and I arrange delivery of the rest of the items. From there, we take the subway to one of my ministorage units, where I fill an extra suitcase with a duffel stocked with weapons that I make sure Gia doesn’t see.
It’s late afternoon by the time we take another few trains and arrive at our true destination, the Two57 residence inside the elite high-rise Park Hotel. We stop at the edge of the eighty-story building and Jared glances up, letting out a long whistle. “This is Liam Stone living.”
“More importantly, it’s an extremely profitable rental property I purchased years ago. It’s also been vacant for the past three months. Until now.”
Moving forward, I hand the doorman one of my fake IDs along with Gia’s, motioning for Jared to show his, all of which I’ve arranged to be on an approved list through my broker, who wasn’t loving me at four this morning. “My girlfriend and my best man are here to visit me for a few days.”
The doorman, an ex-military type I’ll appreciate more after we’re inside, scans my various cuts and bruises and doesn’t warm to us.
The attendant makes a phone call, reading off our IDs, before he finally thaws and greets me with a “Welcome home, Mr. Wade and company. Can I take your bags?”
“Yes, please,” Gia gushes, smiling at him, and for the first time, the man seems to soften a bit. I let her accept our ticket.
“Gorgeous,” Gia murmurs as we enter the fancy, Vegas-style modern lobby, with marble floors and low-hanging oversized lighting, as well as a lobby desk I intend to visit on my own.
“The security outperforms
the decor,” I promise her, my hand again finding its way to the small of her back, as I pause us a few feet away from the counter and hand Gia back her ID, which I accepted from the attendant. “Show them this when they ask for it. You’re my girlfriend, Ashley, who lives with me.” She starts to look at the ID and I say, “Don’t. Slip it in your new purse.”
“Ashley,” she repeats, doing as I’ve ordered. “No more Gia.”
“Gia’s a rare name,” Jared comments, strands of his long light brown hair draped around his face where they’ve escaped their confines. “It’s not one you can keep without notice.”
“It was my mother’s name.”
There’s a sadness in her that I understand, and wish I didn’t. “Which makes it all the more dangerous right now,” I reply.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Jared agrees. “I’ll keep an eye on the front while you get the keys.”
Pleased to have an extra set of eyes, I lace my fingers with Gia’s as we step to the counter.
“Our rental agent should have left us a key,” I say, sliding my identification onto the counter.
Noting his curious inspection of the various facial injuries that I don’t intend to explain, Gia laughs and says, “He looks horrible, doesn’t he? That’s what he gets for refusing to do the dishes.”
The attendant, an older, distinguished-looking black man, frowns while I laughingly insert, “It was a bar brawl. You should see the other guy.”
She nudges me. “Stop it. It was a car accident. Sorry. We’ve just gotten so many looks, and we’re a little giddy from travel.”
The man starts laughing. “Oh, well, I hope everyone was okay.”
“Everyone was fine, or we wouldn’t be making a jest of the matter,” Gia smoothly assures him.
“Excellent,” the man replies and gives me a nod. “Let me get those keys, Mr. Wade and . . . Mrs. Wade?”
“Not ‘Mrs.’ yet,” I say, “but I’m working on remedying that.”
We receive another smile and the man turns away to go to a small alcove and key some information into a computer.
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