Page 49 of Filthy Dirty Dom

Alex tightened his grip on Leslie's hand as they climbed the steps to the plane. Inside, the jet was luxurious but practical, designed for comfort during long hauls. The plush leather seats, ambient lighting, and mini-bar hinted at the privileges of wealth and power, yet it felt more like a lifeline at the moment.

Just before the jet engines roared to life, Alex pulled out one of his burner phones; he’d stopped to get several before heading to the airport. He’d only use them when he needed to check in with Luke to ascertain the status of the situation. That in and of itself was a risk but was unavoidable if he wanted updates.

He paused for a moment, his thumb hovering over the screen, before finally sending a text message to Branden.

Situation has escalated, he typed quickly, his fingers stiff from tension. We have to go completely underground and while I know you’ll worry, I’ll limit contact to Luke, and that will be rare. He’ll update you. I'm sorry. I will protect Leslie with my life.

He hit send and watched as the small 'delivered' sign flickered on the screen. Alex powered off the phone.

"Are you okay?" Leslie asked, her voice barely a whisper over the sudden drone of the jet engines.

Alex’s fingers tightened momentarily on the phone before he tossed it in a nearby trash bin.

"I should be asking you that," he said, attempting to deflect her concern with a faint smile.

"You've asked me that more than a hundred times," Leslie shot back. "It's my turn to ask you."

"I'm okay, Leslie," he said.

He was not okay. He hadn't been okay since the moment he had cradled Mia's cold body and felt her last breath ghost over his cheek. He had put on a show, for himself and for the world, playing the part of the stoic soldier, the unbreakable fortress. But behind that facade, he was broken. Shattered. A man haunted by his past, dragged into a future where violence and loss seemed inescapable.

But he would not let Leslie see that. He would not let her see the monster within, the demon that lurked beneath the veneer of control. He would reassure her, protect her, and for that, he needed to play his part convincingly. Even if it meant lying to himself, and to her.

Leslie studied Alex from the corner of her eye, a ripple of apprehension twisting through her. They had been airborne for countless hours and the pressurized cabin was now saturated with an uneasy quiet, the silence punctuated by the hum of the plane’s engines.

Her gaze traced the tense contours of his profile—his clenched jaw, tight-lipped frown, dark, intense eyes that now stared unseeingly out the window, and a grim expression that set her nerves on edge. His fists lay clenched on his lap, the knuckles a stark white against the tan of his skin.

When the pilot's voice filled the cabin, declaring their impending arrival, Alex seemed to tense even further. He looked as if he were being led to his own execution, his usual composed and controlled facade crumbling under the weight of an internal battle. It made no sense to Leslie. If they were headed to safety, to some kind of sanctuary, shouldn’t he be feeling relief?

Leslie refrained from questioning him. She didn't want to add to his burden, despite the curiosity gnawing at her. He’d told her enough for now – that they were going to a secure compound on a remote island owned by a family he trusted.

She let out a soft sigh, her gaze drifting to the window. She was staring at a cloud when its wispy shape suddenly transformed into what resembled a figure, lying on the ground. She flashed back to the men who’d barged into her home and attacked her. To their dead bodies after Alex rescued her. Who were they? Were they really going to be safe here?

A sudden thought punched into her panicked mind. What if whoever had sent those men took Leslie’s disappearance as an opportunity to attack her family? Her sisters and her mother? Deena and Rachel. Bethany and Jeanette. Jeanette! She was only eighteen years old.

Suddenly, Alex took her hand in his. His touch was warm, strong and soothing presence that made her feel less alone in this nightmare even as part of her wished he didn’t have to live it with her.

"It's going to be okay, Leslie," he murmured. His thumb brushed gently against her skin.

“My family…”

“We’ve doubled protection on them, remember? My men will be vigilant, I promise.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “Though I can see why you might think otherwise, given how I failed you twice in two days.”

Twice. He was referring to Elvis, at the club. And Baylor… Oh God, Baylor. When they’d made their escape from her place, she hadn’t even thought to ask about him. She felt horrible given what she suspected.

“Baylor,” she whispered.

“Dead,” Alex said.

She’d been expecting it, but Leslie cried out in dismay. “His fiancée, his family…oh God…”

She burst into tears, and Alex pulled her into his arms, wrapping his arms tight around her.

“I know, I know,” he said. “Many will grieve for him. But he knew the risks of the job, Leslie. It doesn’t make it hurt less, but he knew it was always a possibility, and so did the woman he loved.”

Meaning it was always a possibility for Alex. Luke. Lee. All the men who worked for them.

“We’ll miss the service.”

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