My workday passes in what feels like a matter of minutes. When I leave the office, Temperance is still on the phone finalizing details for the Voodoo Kings event, and I give her a wave. She smiles and makes a shooing motion out the door.

Scar is waiting at the curb per usual, and I slide into the backseat of the car. We’ve dispensed with all the hood nonsense after my escape, so when he starts driving in the opposite direction as I expect, I question him, even though I know he’s not going to answer.

“Where are we going?”

His grunt of a response is all I get.

Thirty minutes later, we turn down the road to Lakefront Airport, and I’m even more confused.

“What’s going on?”

Scar drives directly to a private hangar and parks near the front glass doors. He exits the car and opens my door, then leads me inside. I barely get a look at the posh lounge area that looks nothing like the molded plastic seating of a commercial airport before he pushes open another glass door and we step onto a red carpet runner leading across the tarmac to the stairs of a large, sleek private jet.

Whoa.

I take in the black-and-gold aircraft, and although I know nothing about planes, I’m willing to bet it’s ridiculously expensive. There’s no name or logo indicating who owns it, but I only need one guess.

Scar nods toward the stairs, and I hesitate for a moment.

To fly on the private jet or not? It isn’t exactly a decision I thought I’d be making when I left Seven Sinners tonight. I can’t lie and say I’ve never wondered what it would be like to fly in one . . . but the thought of the man either already inside or en route keeps my feet glued to the red carpet.

What’s the worst that can happen? It’s not like he hasn’t kidnapped me already. The fact that this is my logic and rationalization is absolutely insane, but that’s the impact Mount has had on my life.

The final thing that sways me is the contract from this morning. It was a gesture I still don’t understand, but I couldn’t find any more hidden traps in the legalese either.

Scar grunts from behind me, and I make my decision.

Screw it.

With measured steps, I cross the red carpet and reach the plane. I balance my shoe on the first stair, grip the rails, and climb up into the cabin.

The interior matches everything else of Mount’s—black, gold, and white.

Mount is seated in one of the plush black leather seats with a laptop open on the table in front of him. He looks up as I enter.

“What’s going on?”

He closes the laptop and stands. “We’re going out.”

“Like on a date?” Disbelief hangs from every word.

Mount jerks a chin toward the leather seat across from his. “Sit. I’ll tell the captain we’re ready for takeoff.”

I lower myself into the chair, trying to figure out what the hell his game is this time. First the contract this morning, and now this? What’s his angle?

Mount returns momentarily, and the cabin seems to shrink now that the door is closed and we’re locked inside. His presence does that to me all too often.

“Where are we going?” I ask, desperate to keep my mind off the fact that the aircraft begins to move.

I grip the arms of the seat, my knuckles turning white as the statistics about the crashes of private planes versus commercial flights run through my head. We taxi to the end of a runway, turn, and jerk into forward motion as the jet picks up speed.

Oh shit. What are my parents going to think when they find out I died with him?

The thought is ridiculous, but logic isn’t exactly on my side right now. I’m nearly hyperventilating as the jet hurtles down the runway.

“Keira, look at me.”

Mount’s deep voice snaps me out of my panic, and I meet his gaze.

“What?”

When he unclips his seat belt, I want to yell at him to put it back on, but he moves to the chair beside me before I’m capable of forming the sentence.

“Are you afraid of flying?” he asks, and I’m too freaked out to appreciate the concern in his tone.

I shake my head rapidly. I know better than to admit weakness, especially to him.

“Then why do you look like you’re going to throw up?”

I break his stare and look out the window. Oh, sweet Jesus. We’re almost off the ground. Bad idea.

Mount reaches out to cup my cheek, bringing my gaze back to his. “Listen to me. You’re fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. Because I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I swallow at his admission, and my stomach flips. I’m not sure whether it’s because of this latent fear of flying clawing through me, or because of Mount’s penetrating stare. Maybe both.

I force myself to relax, muscle by muscle, until my spine curves into the leather cushion. “I forgot. You have a vested interest in making sure nothing does, because then who would pay the debt I owe?”

His thumb strokes my cheek, and I tense again at the uncharacteristic gesture.

“At some point, you’re going to realize this is about far more than a simple debt.” Mount’s voice is low, but his words send my anxiety soaring.

“What do you mean?”

He finally releases his hold on my face and turns toward the empty seats opposite us, crossing an ankle over one knee. He doesn’t look at me when he replies.

“You’re smart. You’ll figure it out eventually.”