When I woke again, the plane had landed in Miami. I knew it had to be past dawn, but the cabin’s blackout shades made it nearly pitch black inside. I snuggled in closer to Lucas and pulled up the blanket to ward off the chill of the air-conditioning.
“Cold nose,” Lucas said with a sleepy laugh.
I tried pulling back, but he lifted my chin and kissed me.
“That’s nice and warm,” he said.
“Hmmm. Very nice.”
“We’re going to have to see my father today,” he murmured between kisses.
“Hmmm, not so nice.”
Another laugh. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re right. We need to tell him what we found…and we should thank him for the use of the jet.” I caught Lucas’s look. “You don’t still regret taking it, do you?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. I worry about how it will be interpreted. Then I worry about whether it’s a sign of backsliding. And then I worry about worrying too much, what you must think of it.” A quarter-smile. “Self-doubt is not a sexy trait in a lover.”
“Depends on the lover. You can be almost scarily self-confident, Cortez. I like being the only one who gets to peek through the chinks in the armor. If you’re still worried, though, I do know a good temporary cure.”
A crooked grin. “Distraction?”
“Um-hmmm.” I slid my hands under the blanket.
“Wait,” he said. “I still owe you for the broom closet, and believe I can be adequately distracted by reciprocating that favor.”
I grinned. “You never owe me. But I won’t argue if you insist.”
“I do.”
As he shifted forward to kiss me, a seat squeaked…only it didn’t sound like the seat we were lying on. I lifted my head to see Benicio tiptoeing for the cabin door. Lucas bolted upright and swore.
Benicio stopped, his back still to us. “My apologies. I came by for an update. I was waiting for you to wake up.”
“We’ve been awake, quite obviously awake, for a few minutes,” Lucas said.
“Yes, well…”
“You couldn’t resist eavesdropping on a private conversation,” Lucas said. “Until it threatened to become too private.”
“I—”
“We’re dressed,” I said. “You might as well come in and say your piece.”
Benicio turned, his gaze glancing off Lucas’s glare before veering to rest on the far wall. I got up and stalked past him, out the cabin door and into the serving station, where I turned on the coffeemaker. By the time I returned, I’d had enough time to cool down. I was still pissed, but there was little danger I’d “accidentally” dump Benicio’s coffee in his lap.
“I was just summing up our findings,” Lucas said as I passed out the mugs.
“I can’t believe it,” Benicio said. “They wouldn’t have gotten away with that here, but in Ohio…” He shook his head. “We need more offices in the Midwest. I’ve said it before.”
Lucas stopped, mug halfway to his lips. “The Nasts were looking into a Cincinnati office, weren’t they?”
Benicio nodded. “They still are, I believe, but they delayed their plans. They ran into a problem with the area that needed to be cleared up first.”
I turned to Lucas. Our eyes met.
“When did they—” Lucas began.
The intercom buzzed on. “Sorry for the interruption, sir, but there’s a red-haired woman here and she demands to speak to you. She says—”
“That’s fine,” Lucas cut in. “She’s with us. Let her in.”
I glanced back at the still-closed door between the rear cabins. “Guess she stepped out before we woke up.”
The main door opened and I caught a glimpse of Benicio’s stand-in bodyguard Morris. Then a woman barreled past, nearly knocking the big man flying. It was indeed a red-haired woman, but not Cassandra.
Justifiable Hysteria
JAIME STUMBLED PAST THE GUARD, HEAD BOWED, SHOULDERS hunched. As she staggered forward, my first thought was that she’d been drinking. Then I noticed her shoes—one sneaker, one pump with a two-inch heel, both pulled on over bare feet, the sneaker still untied, as if she’d grabbed the first two shoes she could find, yanked them on and ran. Her blouse was misbuttoned and stained with splotches of brown and dark red, and her hair hung in a snarled mess, a clip clinging to one side. She pushed back her hair, revealing a face streaked with makeup and tears.
“Oh, God,” I said, rushing forward. “What happened?”
She turned. Four bloodred gouges raked her face from eye to jaw. I gasped.
“I’ll call a medic,” Lucas said as I guided Jaime to a chair.
“N—no,” she said. “Don’t, please. I—I’m okay.”
She collapsed into the chair, bent her head down almost