Page 155 of Where Broken Wings Fly

Willow sways on her feet. “Sure… will do. I should get back to my hotel. He’ll be waiting for me to call. Time zones, eh? It was nice seeing you.”

The creepy asshole frowns at how close me and Killian are to Willow. Just when I think he’s going to say something and earn himself an early death, one of his men calls his name.

“Coming,” he shouts back.

I take the opportunity to shove Willow behind me, even further away from him. With any luck, they’ll think we’re her security detail. I get the feeling her sleaze-bag ex could afford it and would want to keep his wife under lock and key.

He offers Willow a stomach-churning smile. “It’s been a pleasure, as always.”

“Likewise. Travel safe.”

“You too, Mrs Sanchez.”

The men disappear inside a nearby cocktail bar; some fancy, over-priced establishment catering to the snootier brand of lawyers and managers looking to drink their stress away. Mason makes sure to cast her a final look before vanishing from sight.

Willow sags between us the moment he disappears, almost falling flat on her face. Her legs knock together too hard to hold her upright without our arms around her.

“Who was that?” Killian quizzes.

“Move,” she whispers brokenly. “We need to get as far away from this city as possible. If he’s contacting Dimitri right now, my entire cover is blown.”

“Dimitri is your husband?” I guess.

Willow nods. “They’re business partners.”

“Fuck. We need to haul ass.”

Killian slings an arm around her waist and half-carries her into the crowd. We practically run through the plaza, ducking and weaving to avoid being seen. Suddenly, every pair of eyes on us feels like a threat.

“Go, go, go,” I urge him forwards.

“Keep up, Zach!”

By the time we reach the truck, sweating and panting hard, Willow is white as a sheet. I toss the bags into the back and throw the door open, boosting Willow inside as Killian fires the engine.

I’ve barely slid into the passenger seat before he slams his foot down and we take off. Lurching forwards, I slam the door shut and hold on to the dashboard for dear life.

“Hold on,” he warns.

“Shit, Kill. Don’t get us killed.”

“You wanted fast. Hold the fuck on.”

Cutting in front of a dawdling motorist, he manoeuvres through several tight turns, slicing into the traffic leading out of the city. Blaring car horns follow us and Killian undercuts several more cars to get ahead.

In the back of the truck, Willow is hunched over into a shaking ball. She whispers under her breath as she falls apart, head shaking from side to side, like a puppet on a string.

“He’s going to find me.”

“Breathe, babe.”

“No… he knows where I am. We’re in danger.”

“We’re sixty miles from home,” I reason. “There’s no way that weirdo can link you back to Briar Valley.”

“Not safe… not safe,” she sobs. “I can’t go back. I won’t go back.”

“Get us somewhere private!” I snap at Killian.

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