Given the office is across the street, it takes me all of ten minutes to grab the files Phillip requested, along with his laptop charger. I don’t bother taking the time to look through the files that he didn’t want to leave behind. I’ll probably beat him to the hangar and can look through them there. Besides, there’s a sense of urgency that might be irrational, but I can’t shake it. Every fiber in my being screams at me to hurry—to get there before he decides what I’m bringing isn’t important, and I lose my chance to hear what he has to say.
His whole world imploded today, and it’s probably been one hit after another all afternoon. This is an opportunity.
A man like Phillip doesn’t just command respect—he thrives on it. Being mocked online probably hurts more than bullets would. A conceivable prison sentence likely terrifies his pampered soul.
“What have you got there?” Brie greets me at Jake’s Jeep.
“Files he wanted. His laptop charger and an extra phone charger. You know, I could just set my phone to record.”
“You could,” she says, sounding upbeat. “But this is easier and eliminates the risk that he’d notice your phone. Are you wearing a bra?”
“I am,” I say, glancing down at my lightly padded tits.
“Here. Slip this in your bra. Even if he checks for a wire, he’s not likely to search there. You can start recording now or wait—it’s got twelve hours of battery, so you’re good.”
I set the device into my bra, choosing to go ahead and start recording as I’d rather not risk forgetting. “Are you leaving?”
“Yes. Quinn found us a plane. Different airfield. We should be able to beat him.” Brie squeezes my wrist, halting me from opening Jake’s car door. “Be smart. Trust your gut. Don’t let him get too close. I don’t think he’s going to do anything to you, but I’d bet the others died with a needle injection. Just…” Her sharp eyes drill into me, waiting until I return her gaze and she knows she has my attention. “Keep that in mind. Make the delivery, talk, but don’t let him close. No hugs, no nothing. Talk and walk. Got it?”
“Yeah. I’ve got it.”
An SUV with its headlights on drives up, and through the window Noah gives a thumbs up.
I return the thumbs up, and pull the car door handle, ready to get this over with. My nerves are a tangled mess, and if I give myself too much time, I’ll talk myself out of it. But I meant what I said. I’ve come too far to back down now. Despite what my work record might say, I’m not a quitter—not when there’s a reason to stay.
I crank the engine, then scan the dashboard, searching for the headlights, when a loud whack on the Jeep catches my attention. In a flash, Jake’s at the door, hair wild, eyes wilder.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I told you. I’m going–”
“Not without me, you’re not.” He’s holding the door open with one hand, but my gaze falls to his waist and the gun holster. “And since when do you drive? I’ve been behind the wheel every damn time since we got here.”
“I have a license,” I squeak.
“I don’t like this plan, but fine—I’ll go along. You’re sure as hell not going without me.”
“He didn’t ask for you to come.”
“Well, tough shit. You’re my girlfriend. I don’t care if this were a normal boss situation—which it’s not—but my girlfriend gets called to make a delivery to some bumfuck location on a Saturday evening? You’d better believe my ass is going with her. Copy?”
Whoa. There’s a whole lotta fire coming out of Jake right about now. I give a quick nod, file away the girlfriend comment for later—and by later, I mean the next hundred times I replay it in my head.
As I walk around the hood of the Jeep, he goes to the back, and the sound of zippers carries through the night air, slightly louder than the cricket symphony. The back slams, and he slides into the Jeep hard enough to rock it, hauling himself in like he’s gearing up for combat.
Not gonna lie—it’s kind of sexy.
Even when he’s furious, there’s something grounding about him—like he’s the only steady thing in this whole unraveling mess.
“Ready?” he asks as the headlights flare and the engine growls.
I give a quick nod, and the Jeep lurches forward. We ride a few minutes in silence through the streets, Jake following the nav on my phone where I’ve set it up so he can see.
“Jake?”
He’s still annoyed—maybe pissed—so all I get is a “hmmph” and a chest heave.
“Thank you.”