My heart pounds as Jax withdraws his lips. When one of the young flight attendants smiles as she clears the table, I get self-conscious and snatch my hand from his. I place it in my lap and then lace my fingers together for lack of something better to do. I’d start wringing them, if I didn’t feel like I was a fish in a bowl, every movement scrutinized by the man making my heart beat faster.
“Thank you, Essie, Lynn, and Mari. It was a wonderful presentation.”
All three of the girls smile. The one called Mari might even have winked at my date. “Yes,” I say, my Aston manners catching up with me. “Thank you. It was delicious.”
Jax takes my hand again as the girls exit this part of the cabin, pulling the pocket doors closed behind them as they go. “We’re not buckled in—which is against protocol. But I’ll hold your hand and keep you safe.” He smiles warmly at me. “If that’s OK?”
I nod. I have nothing. I’m not a player. I know there are girls out there who do this kind of thing for a living. They scout out prospective husbands. Dress up, put on a show, try to hook one with the bait.
I have no bait. I’m cute—not sophisticated like my mom’s friend Rook, or badass like her friend Veronica, or even smart and sassy like my mom, but cute. A Smurf, they used to call me. And those ladies are the only real role models I ever had growing up. That’s it. The extent of my wily ways with men come from half-ass copy-catting people who have more game in their pinky fingers than I have in my whole body.
So I’m at a complete loss here. Because Jax insists on treating me like a woman. And I’ve spent a good number of years trying to avoid this kind of scenario. The kind that sweeps you off your feet. The kind that jumpstarts your heart and makes it hum in a way you never thought possible. The kind that makes you doubt all those pledges you made to yourself through the years.
I will never love again. I will never give my heart to a man. I will never have to endure the crushing reality that comes after the only person I ever wanted to be with practically begged me to forget about him.
I tried it, it just didn’t work. I can’t just erase my first crush. I can’t just throw away the one thing I held onto after my father died. I kept the boys at bay all during high school. I didn’t even lose my virginity until my first year of college. Ford made sure of that. The memory of his crazy overprotective antics as I grew up make me smile.
So I don’t have much experience.
But Jax is a player, I can see that now. He’s got me wound up tight. My head is pounding with the possibilities he comes with.
Sex being one of them. I have not had sex in over two years. And I’m not one of those girls who go for a toy at the first hint of a dry spell. After two years though, I’m considering that option.
But now Jax is here. Kissing me. Making my whole body tingle. Awakening the desire I’ve pent up for so long.
“Are you afraid of planes, Sasha?”
I look over at Jax. “What?”
“Does landing bother you?”
“No,” I say, confused. “Why?”
“You’re squeezing my hand so hard, you might be cutting off my circulation.”
“Oh.” I let out a rush of air and release my grip on his hand. “Sorry. No. I’m not afraid of landing.”
“Afraid of me?” he asks, one eyebrow up. He takes my hand back for a third time, stroking my palm softly with his fingertips.
“No,” I say again. “I’m not afraid of you. I can take you, Agent Jax.”
“You can drop the agent part now, Sasha. Just call me Jax.” And then he nods to our hands, one again intertwined. “Do you want me to let go? Am I making you uncomfortable?”
I have to take a moment to collect my thoughts. Because he is making me uncomfortable. But not in the way he suspects. I’m just not used to the heat of desire. It’s a little bit overwhelming. And being with him like this is not part of my life plan. Of course, Nick resurfacing and spinning my world so out of control that I can’t concentrate on work, which leads to me being asked to rethink grad school, wasn’t in my life plan either.
But I can’t tell him that. So I say, “I’m nervous about meeting my aunt,” instead.
And as soon as the words come out of my mouth, I realize they are not a lie. Jax has kept me occupied during the short trip, but now that we’re nearing the final destination, the worry rushes back into my forward consciousness.
The plane touches down and the engines roar as the brakes are applied. I lean forward from the momentum, but Jax wraps his arms around me and holds me in place.
I want to throw up.
Do not embarrass yourself, Sasha, that inner killer tells me. You cannot afford to let your guard down now. The game is on and you’re a player, whether you want to be or not. Keep cool, be alert, and see everything the way your father taught you as a child.
“OK,” I say out loud.
“OK?” Jax laughs. “We’re on the ground now so you’re OK?”
“Yes,” I answer quickly. Jesus Christ. He was right back at school this morning when he said I’ve lost my game. Recover, the inner voice says. “I’m always relieved when the plane is back on the earth where it belongs.” Let him think I’m afraid of the landing. What do I care? The only things I need to protect are my true fears.
When we stop, Jax guides me to stand with him, and then we thank the flight attendants as they help us with our coats. They smile broadly as we exit the plane into the darkness.
“Where are we?” I ask, the nerves taking over again. I take a step, almost trip and fall, but Jax is there to hold me up.
“Are you sure you’re OK?”
“I am,” I say as we descend the stairs without any further stumbling on my part. “But where are we?”
“Colorado. Where we started.”
“I don’t recognize this airport. Which airport? This isn’t Centennial.” I look around and realize there are no lights. No city in the distance to give me reassurance that we are somewhere safe.
“We’re in Burlington. The place we’re going is not far off.”
But there is nothing but flat farmland on all sides. And yeah, it’s winter, so there’s no corn to mark the landscape. I’ve been to Burlington airport with James. Years ago. But places don’t degenerate, they grow. “This is not Burlington airport. Where is the freeway? The hotel? There’s a dairy across the street. I don’t smell any cows. And I’m sick of the secrets, Jax. Either tell me where we are, or I walk away.”
He smiles down at me as we approach a black town car. “You’re so suspicious. Just relax.”
“Where are we?” I demand one more time. And then I plan my attack if I don’t get the answers I need. Chop to the throat, chop to the back of the neck, leg sweep, stomach kick, face kick, run.
“We’re at a private airstrip in Nebraska. And you’re perfectly safe.”
“Then why lie?” I take my phone out and pull up my map app. It pings my location and places a pin in north central Nebraska.
“Because I had a suspicion about you and a pilot who worked for your friend James. And now I know that suspicion was true.”
I whirl around, breaking his grip on me. “What the hell kind of game are you playing? And why do you need to know about that pilot? He’s a good man, Jax. He saved my ass a few times over the years. And if you’re just using me to arrest people—”
“Calm down, killer.” Jax says it with a smile, but I don’t smile back. “I’m just—” He takes a deep breath. “I’m just piecing together your life, that’s all. I’ve been trying to figure it out for months. I’ve been looking for someone like you for years. Someone who could help me fill in the missing parts of my own life. And then one day, there you were in my case file. There wasn’t a whole lot in there except for the massacre that happened in Santa Barbara. At least the sterilized version of it. But your friend’s names were in that file. Bits and pieces of that plan you put in motion to kill off the Company were in that file. And I had some lingering questions about how you and your friends got from place to place back in those early days.”
“So you baited me? To get me to spill info about that pilot. Why?”
His smile falters and he takes a step closer to me, reaching for my elbow. I pull it away. He doesn’t deserve my trust right now. “I just need to know, that’s all. I need all the pieces of the puzzle to fit together.”
“Why?” I demand again.
He stares at me for a few moments. Silent. Like he’s thinking pretty hard about the conversation we’re having. How it might turn out, how it might turn against him if he says the wrong thing. “Because,” he finally says with a sigh, “your aunt got word that you were killed. That some assassin shot you in the chest and you fell off a boat in Newport Beach harbor. She was told your body was never recovered. She was a mess for weeks until the final shootout in Santa Barbara revealed you were still alive. But then there was another report. This time your body surfaced in Mexico. She was distressed again. All these years she’s been beating herself up for not being there for you.”
“So you’ve been reporting to her for a decade? About me?” Jesus Christ, I feel sick. He’s been watching me.
“Yes.” He stops again, hesitating. “No. I mean, not exactly. This is all new to me too, Sasha. I’ve only been on the case a few months. It all came in the file the FBI has. But I need more so I’ve been hunting down clues and trying to fill in the blanks.”
“You have something personal against me, don’t you?”
“Not against you, Sasha. You’re taking this the wrong way.”
“How should I take it?” I snap. “You’re a spy. You’re an FBI agent. You’ve just admitted that the FBI has been hunting me for ten years. I want to know what you’re really doing. I want to know right now, Jax, or I won’t get in that car with you.”
“Sasha,” he pleads, “listen to me. I’m not here to hurt you. I told you that when you came home last summer. I’m after someone else.”
“Nick,” I say.
“Yes. No. Maybe. I’m not sure, OK? You haven’t told me anything. I can’t know which direction I need to go until I debrief you.”
“Debrief me? I don’t work for you!”
“Not yet,” he says, scrubbing his hand down his face with frustration. “I realize I said you have the option of walking away tomorrow, but I fully expect you to cooperate after you talk to your aunt.”
“Why? What’s she gonna tell me?” My head is throbbing again. All this information is too much right now. I put up my hand to ward off his words. “Don’t. Please. Just stop talking. I want to cut this date,” I seethe that word, “short. I want it to end right now. Take me back. I don’t want to meet that woman calling herself my aunt. I don’t want to do any of this. I don’t want to hear about the past or how you’ve been looking for me. I don’t want to hear about that party in Santa Barbara or being shot in the chest in Newport Harbor—”
“So he really did shoot you?”
“No. Yes. Just stop, OK? Just stop!” I whirl around, trying to get my bearings as the unfamiliar landscape closes in on me. My head hurts. God, it hurts. And my world is spinning out of control. The memories come flooding back. The blood, and the explosions, and the beach…
Those are my last coherent thoughts as the blackness takes over and I slump to the ground.