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Max leans back, digesting everything she’s saying. The plane starts its descent from the quick flight and she tightens her seatbelt, fidgeting under his gaze.
“Who has Addison?” I ask Max.
“I don’t know. Aiden’s working on that. All we know is, it’s not the FBI.”
“Aspen, do you mind if I run your passport?”
“Not at all,” she blurts, digging through her purse on the seat next to her. She hands it to him. “I have nothing to hide. In fact, you’ll discover I’m the most boring person ever.”
I wish. There is nothing boring about Aspen. Her whiskey eyes soften when they meet mine. A boring person can disappear. Aspen couldn’t hide if she tried. Between her exotic looks and magnetic energy, she’s like finding gold in a riverbed of rock.
The reality—our reality—is that we can’t be together, so I keep my mouth shut. Why try to burn a wet match?
She breaks our contact with an eye flutter right before wincing as we connect with the concrete. Her hands squeeze the ends of the armrests, her body tenses with the jolt of the brakes. I wish I had known she hated landings, I could have helped take her mind off of it. Reminded her of my asshole ways. At least she wouldn’t be terrified. Her plump lips part with a small exhale when the plane comes to a stop.
Jesus Christ. I hop up so she doesn’t see what her silent moan does to me. Pressure squeezes my dick and I adjust my pants to give it some reprieve. That’s not for you, I remind myself. Except, it’s the same breath she takes when I’m buried full tilt inside her.
“Can’t you guys find women I don’t have to save?” Max mumbles, striding past me. I open my mouth to argue but snap it shut. He has a point. Although, we don’t even know if she needs saving. And she’s not mine.
“Are we leaving?” Aspen’s sultry voice is at my side, and I twist my body toward her and take a couple steps so I’m standing toe to toe with her in the aisle.
“Tell me you have no idea what’s going on.” Her soft smile fades and she presses her lips together in a flat line, her expression hardens. I hate asking her this, but the reality slams against me that maybe I don’t know this woman as much as I thought. She pushes past me. But I grip her arm, halting her. “My friends will bend over backward to protect you, but I need you to answer me.”
She skewers me with a venomous look. “Va te faire foutre!” She whips her arm out of my grasp and steps out of the plane. I follow her as she stomps down the stairs.
“What does that fucking mean?”
She holds up her middle finger and keeps walking. Seems she’s picked up on a few New York mannerisms.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Aspen
I toss the phone across the bed as if it lit me on fire. Having the world at your fingertips can be dangerous. I’m sitting alone in a bedroom in Max’s house—scratch that—Max’s mansion, and I’ve yet to find out why we’re here.
But the information I just found sent icy chills down my arms. I pick up the phone again, closing the internet app so I don’t see his face again. Or any of their faces.
Tempted to call my father, my finger hovers over the numbers. He’d be on my side. Unlike Ryker, who seems to not believe me.
I glance up to a soft knock at the door, following a turn of the handle. The door creaks open and Ryker flashes a sheepish smile. “Hey.”
I drop my chin to avoid his gaze, still furious that he questioned me. I’ve never told him a lie. “My answer is no.”
Sighing, I turn off my phone. There’s no way I can call my dad. He’d buy a ticket on the first flight out. He has enough to worry about. Like beating cancer.
“Sorry. But I had to ask.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, his gaze jumps around the room. “This is crazy. And not my life. My friend's life… this shit is normal. I have obligations and a career that I can’t get caught up in—God knows what the hell is happening here.” His voice strangled with frustration.
I’m officially more trouble than I’m worth. He’s already made it clear how much he stays away from drama. “I’m sorry I came.”
He releases a harsh breath, and heavy steps on the carpet follow. I lift my head when his shoes come toe to toe with mine. “I don’t regret meeting you. And I sure as hell don’t regret bringing you here. It’s what comes after that I’ll always regret.”
My brows furrow. “After?”
“You going home.”
“Ryker,” my voice breaks along with my heart. I’d rather him say I’m too much drama for him. I stand up, our chests a fraction from touching. “My father–”
He presses his finger to my lips and nods in understanding. “I didn’t think it’d hurt this bad saying goodbye.”
