Page 28 of What Comes Around

We moved through a private corridor into the private jet lounge, a quiet space of glass walls, leather seating, low lighting, and espresso machines humming softly in the background. Conversations drifted through the room between people who did not fly commercial.

Knox had rented a private jet.

From the lounge I was escorted directly onto the tarmac. The jet waiting there gleamed in the early morning light.

Inside, it was nothing like any plane I had flown on before. Cream leather seats lined the cabin beside polished wood accents and soft recessed lighting. A long table ran through the center for meetings, screens built seamlessly into the walls. Toward the back sat a small bar, discreet and immaculate. Everything smelled faintly of clean leather and money.

Knox was already seated, laptop open, working.

Across from him sat Ethan and Julian. Both looked up when I stepped inside.

“There she is,” Julian said with a grin. “Ready for Vegas?”

“As ready as one can be for three days of corporate survival,” I replied.

Ethan laughed. “Last year was brutal. I still have flashbacks of that final negotiation dinner.”

“I heard someone cried,” Julian added.

“I did not cry,” Ethan protested. “I aggressively blinked.”

A faint smile touched my mouth as I crossed the aisle and took the seat across from Knox.

He glanced up briefly, gave a small nod of acknowledgment, then returned his attention to the screen of his laptop.

I pulled out my tablet and began scrolling through emails, already slipping back into work mode.

A flight attendant appeared a moment later. She was young and strikingly beautiful.

“Good morning, Mr. Sinclair. Can I get you anything to drink before takeoff?” she asked, leaning just slightly closer than necessary.

He didn’t even look up. “Coffee. Black.”

She lingered longer than necessary, then turned to me.

“And for you, Miss?”

“Coffee as well. Thank you.”

She took Ethan’s and Julian’s orders before disappearing toward the back of the cabin.

When she returned, Knox’s cup came first. She set it carefully beside him and offered another warm smile. He acknowledged her with a brief nod, already back to work.

The smile faded slightly as she moved on.

A few minutes later Marcus arrived.

He paused just inside the cabin and looked around with clear satisfaction. “Private jet again, Knox? You spoil us.”

“Sit down,” Knox replied without looking up.

Marcus grinned and took his seat.

The flight from Chicago to Las Vegas lasted just under four hours. The plane touched down a little after eight in the morning.

The desert heat hit me the second the cabin door opened. Dry. Sharp. So different from Chicago’s cool morning. The sky was a perfect, unforgiving blue.

A black luxury SUV waited on the private tarmac, engine already running, driver standing straight beside the door.