CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JORDAN
I had a hard time swallowing the fact that I was traveling to Vegas with relative strangers, one of them a known terrorist—okay, maybe that was an exaggeration on my part. But I don’t care what Max claims about his so-called innocence. There was no way a guy like that had never been zip-tied to an air marshal. No way in hell. And when I asked him if he’d ever been arrested on a plane, his answer was to start singing, “I’ve got friends in low places.”
Pretty sure by the end of the trip one or all of us would wish we’d brought sedatives or at least some masking tape to cover his mouth. Already I’d been tempted to physically harm the guy after an incident where he unzipped my carry-on and started riffling through my crap.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm while my nails dug into my palms so I wouldn’t deck him.
Max continued riffling, then paused. “Oh, sorry, I thought it was my bag.”
“Mine’s pink.”
“Right.” He nodded. “And mine’s green, but I’m color-blind.”
“Highly doubt it.” I jerked my bag away from him, but not before his pinkie finger shot into the air with my new red leopard bathing suit hanging from it. “Kitty gonna play?”
I swiped the suit and shoved it back into the suitcase and growled. “Kitty’s gonna play with your dead body if you search through my stuff again.”
“Please, like it was on purpose.” He grinned.
“Everything”—I sighed—“and I do mean everything, is on purpose when it comes to you.”
“Aw.” He winked.
Three days. I could do anything for three days, right?
I couldn’t back out now, though, especially since Ren thought going to Vegas was akin to Reid and me getting married and having a love child.
“Publicity for this kid has been off the charts!” He beamed. “Good job, Jordan, this is your best yet!”
How could I say no to that? Especially since my promotion was all but set in stone if I could keep myself from killing Reid’s next of kin.
As if on cue, Max made a loud joke about how Jason smoked all his pot before he got to the airport so he wouldn’t have to lie about having a medical prescription.
It was that moment that solidified that every airport employee hates their job, possibly their existence, as a TSA employee glared in Jason’s direction, then narrowed her eyes and started talking into her radio.
Jason glared at Max but wasn’t stopped—then again, they wouldn’t stop him for something like that, not unless they actually found illegal drugs on him while going through security.
I cracked my neck and clenched my bag tighter. It wasn’t my first time in Vegas; I loved it there. I should be excited. Instead, eyes on Max, all I could think was that I should have said no.
Maybe I’d look back on this very moment and say, “This is where things went awry.” Yes, awry. And all because of Max Emory and his evil, self-serving plans.
My eyes narrowed in on him as I stepped through security.
And it beeped.
Like twenty times.
I was the last to go through, so the rest of the crew were already waiting on the other side, staring at me.
“Ma’am.” One of the TSA people stepped forward. His eyebrow was one giant line across the top of his forehead, and his eyes were rimmed with red. Out of all the employees to be strip-searching me, I was stuck with Bert, not Ernie, who was currently giving a sticker to a little kid along with a high five. “Please step aside.”
He pulled out a wand and started moving it slowly over my body. “Spread your arms and legs, please.”
Max held up his phone and snapped a picture. I rolled my eyes and got in position as the stick made its way down the front of my jeans. It beeped.
“It’s probably the button,” I said helpfully.
Bert stood. “Ma’am, let me do my job. You do yours and stand there.”
“O-okay.”
He ran the wand around me again. If I closed my eyes I could almost imagine he was my fairy godmother and in a few seconds I’d be two sizes smaller with long, glossy hair and boobs that got me through security based on the fact that they were so awesome the metal detector ceased working in their presence.
“Well . . .” Bert brought the wand back. “I think it’s just the button.”
No crap.
With clenched teeth, I nodded and started walking toward my waiting bag.
“Ma’am?” An attractive twentysomething man with a kind smile pointed to my carry-on. “This yours?”
“Yes.” Seriously? Out of everyone going on this trip, I was the one getting stopped? There was no way Max wasn’t on some sort of watch list, damn it!
“Hmm.” The guy unzipped my bag. “It just seems you have some liquids in here, so let me just—” He froze, his cheeks blushing crimson. “Um.”
“What?” Was my swimsuit that daring? Damn you, Reid! I said black!
“Uh.” The guy swallowed and looked away, then very slowly pulled out a bottle of KY, and note that I said bottle. It wasn’t one of those tiny things you could easily keep hidden in your back jeans pocket. No, no, it was huge, as in bigger than my water bottle. It was like someone went to the Costco of sex stores and decided, hey, just in case we run out . . .
“That’s not mine!” I blurted.
“It was in your bag,” he countered. “Are you saying this isn’t your bag?”
I sighed. “It’s my bag, but—”
“Because if this isn’t your bag, then you need to tell me now. Did someone tell you to carry this bag through security?” He reached for his walkie-talkie.
“It’s mine,” I blurted.
He nodded, then looked down. “All of it?”
“Yup.”
Max waltzed toward us along with the rest of the gang. “Problem?”
“Nope.” I clenched my teeth. “It just seems bringing twenty-four ounces of KY through security is frowned upon.”
“Twenty-four, huh?” Reid chuckled.
I glared.
He stopped laughing.
“Ma’am, this is going to have to go too.” The guy picked up a giant bottle of Her Pleasure massage oil.
I felt myself turn bright red. But I couldn’t say it’s not mine again! He’d confiscate my bag and I really would be walking around Vegas nude like Reid joked!
“And this.” A black whip dangled from his hand. “This is technically a weapon.”
“I’m sure she’s well aware of how hazardous a weighted whip can be.” Max nodded solemnly. “Hell, that handle could be a club.”
The agent sighed.
I groaned.
All in all, two sets of handcuffs were pulled out.
Pink zip ties.
A bottle of flavored nipple cream.
“Well.” The agent stuffed everything back in. “It looks like I’ll only have to confiscate the whip and the liquids.”
“Swell,” I croaked.
“Have fun in . . .” He tilted his head.
“Vegas,” Max said helpfully. “Gotta pay the bills somehow.” He laughed.
The agent joined in.
And I was left wondering just how much of a weapon that whip could really be, especially if I wrapped it around Max’s neck and waited for a popping sound.
I grabbed my bag and walked slowly toward Reid.
He winced with my every stomp.
“Max,” I hissed. “Not funny.”
Milo and Becca crossed their arms with me and took a stance on either side, while Max, Jason, Colt, and Reid stood opposite us. Already we were divided, guys against girls, yet all of us were against Max as he stood helplessly in the middle.
“Don’t start a war you can’t finish, Emory.” I jabbed my finger in his direction. “I know you’re behind the sex toys.”
“Aw.” Max chuckled. “How cute. If you think those are sex toys, no wonder I’ve never heard Reid yell your name.”
“Let me at him!” Becca held me back.
“Not the face.” Max covered up. “It’s my best feature.” He laughed at his own joke, then sobered. “Actually, it’s one of many, feel me?”
“Okay!” Reid stepped between us. “Max, no more practical jokes. All right? This trip is supposed to be relaxing, and we can’t do that if Jordan kills you, then asks us to help bury the body.”
Max held up his hand. “I hereby solemnly swear to stop putting toys in your girl’s bag.”
I tried to keep my heart from fluttering at the words your girl. It felt good to belong to him.
“Good,” Reid huffed, then wrapped an arm around me. “Now, let’s find our damn gate so Jordan can drink those images away.”
“Hear, hear,” I grumbled.
“So.” Max turned around in his seat, whiskey in hand. “What’s the story, Jordan?”
The airplane dipped, almost sending me careening into Reid’s arm, not that it would have been a bad thing. Touching his arm. It had been distracting me since takeoff. All bronzed and muscled sitting innocently within inches of mine.
I was even fascinated with his light-colored arm hair. Like a total freak.
“Uh.” I sipped my white wine and cleared my throat. “Story?” I shared a glance with a confused Reid. “I don’t think I understand the question.”
Max nodded. “Everyone has a story . . . a few choice words that describe their past woes.” He took two long sips of his drink and then said, “Take Jason, for example.”
“Oh, hell.” Jason’s expression went from relaxed to straight-up hostile.
“Home skillet can’t make it through a twenty-four-hour period without a Little Mermaid Band-Aid.” Max shook his head. “Also, he almost got married last year to a total bitch named Jayne, who I’m not entirely convinced wasn’t an actual vampire, because when I put garlic under her mattress she made a really loud screeching sound.”
“Because you scared the shit out of her,” Milo added. “Not because she bites.”
“Oh, she bit.” Jason shuddered. “Hard.”
“Can story time be over now?” Colt asked.
“Colton and Milo are best friends to lovers. It’s romantic, really.” Max said wistfully. “She’s wanted his man package since she knew what it was, though to be fair I’m not entirely sure she knew what it was until about a year ago, when he showed her.”
Milo groaned and covered her face with her hands.
“Becca’s and my story was freaking televised. No need to rehash that round of awesome, though here’s a few hashtags just in case you didn’t TiVo every episode: #zombies, #hades, #beccakissesmaxhard, #sevendwarves, #bachelorislandwhereeveryonegoestodie.” Max smacked a loud kiss on Becca’s cheek and turned. “And Reid.” Max chuckled. “I think we all know his story . . . it involves dear old sweet Grandma, dentures, Bengay, and what I’m hoping was a very thorough bout of therapy.”
“Don’t forget the drugs,” Colton piped up. “And climbing the roof.”
“Or jumping out of that tree.” Milo nodded.
“And the ChapStick,” Max said in a hollow voice.
“Okay!” Reid held up his hands. “Maybe we should all rest before we land, yeah?”
Max eyed Reid suspiciously. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know?” Reid repeated. “Know what?”
“Her story!”
Reid gaped. “Of course I do!”
Max sat back and held out his hand. “Then be my guest.”
“Er . . .” Reid rubbed his lips together. “Jordan likes chocolate.”
“Colt’s allergic, and you can find that shit out on Facebook.” Max yawned. “Next.”
“She’s . . . driven.” Reid nodded. “And rarely lets her hair down.”
“And I think I speak for everyone when I say thank you for keeping that mess contained.” Max pointed at my head while I self-consciously patted down my mane. Thankfully, it was still in place and hadn’t yet chosen to pop out of its constraints or give the nice old man behind us a surprise heart attack, at which point I’m sure Max would say something like, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this, I’m a doctor.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, taking a long, long, very long sip of my wine.
Max eyed Reid. “Still waiting.”
“She’s a . . . shrew.”
I rolled my eyes. “Good one, Reid.”
“See!” Max’s ice nearly launched itself in Jason’s face as he thrust his cup into the air. “You don’t know her story . . .” All eyes turned to me while Max said in a quiet voice, “Start at the beginning.”
“I was born,” I said dryly.
“Wrong beginning.” Max cracked a smile. “We all know you’re the girl who gets food on everything, no shame in that . . . just means my dear brother gets to lick it off.”
“Thanks, man.” Reid covered his face with his hands and let out a groan.
“Got your back, son!” Max nodded seriously. “So Jordan . . . story? You keep a plant alive for how many years? And why? You live alone? Why? Fear of commitment? Snakes? Sharks? Holy shit, you like women!”
“Stop.” I held up my empty glass. “Fine, I’m . . . invisible.”
“Neat trick.” Max grinned. “Explain.”
I shrugged tightly, irritated he was pulling the information out of me so easily—then again, it could be the alcohol. “Well, in my class picture it actually says, ‘Jordan Litwright. Not pictured.’”
“That’s what they do,” Max said slowly, “when you miss picture day.”
“Right.” I nodded. “But I was there.”
“Oh,” they all said in unison.
“In a red shirt.”
Max patted my hand. “This happen on multiple occasions?”
“Every. Year.”
Max pressed the call button. Once the attendant arrived, he ordered a whiskey on the rocks for everyone. Double for me.
I opened my mouth to continue talking, but Max held up his hand. “We need whiskey for sad stories.”
We waited ten more minutes in tense silence. I prayed Max would get bored and forget. But he refused to turn around.
Though Becca tried, bless her heart. I’m pretty sure she was thinking about flashing him.
Then our drinks came.
“You may continue,” Max said.
“Fine.” I gripped my plastic cup, the condensation making my hand a little sweaty. “I went to prom with my cousin . . .”
“Aw, that’s sweet!” Becca gushed.
“He was twenty-seven and had two kids.”
Drinking commenced.
“Even though I had tickets and a student ID card, the girl at the door, the same one who had gone to school with me basically my whole life, asked me my name, and when I told her, she said, and I quote, ‘She doesn’t go here anymore. She died.’”
More drinking.
My cup was empty.
Max gave me Reid’s.
“So yeah.” I exhaled. “Invisible. That’s me. But it makes me good at my job. I can be in the background while the stars get all the attention.”
“Bullshit,” Reid spat.
“What?” I jerked around to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“That’s bullshit. You’re lying.”
“Reid.” Max’s tone was warning, almost like he was being protective of me.
“No!” Reid shook his head. “I don’t believe it. You’re absolutely stunning. Invisible, my ass! A person would have to be blind or just really, really stupid to not see you. I mean, look at you!”
It’s official. Reid was my new hero.
Forget Spider-Man.
I was going to get Reid Emory sheets and sleep in them every night.
My cheeks heated as I ducked a bit under his intense stare.
Those aqua eyes refused to let me look down. Instead, he tilted my chin toward him and didn’t look away. “You. Are. Stunning.”
I could have sworn I heard one of the girls sigh.
Or maybe it was just Max.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to make me feel better.” I licked my lips. “I’m happy with who I am. Really.”
“You should be.” Reid nodded. “Damn proud of who you are.”
He was doing it again. Casting one of those magic spells with his hypnotic eyes, making me think that a girl like me could really be with a guy like him. Making me believe that the words he’d said to me back at his apartment before he crushed my plant . . . were actually true.
That he wanted me.
Desired me.
Enjoyed touching me, kissing me . . .
“This is your captain speaking,” a loud voice interrupted. “I’ve turned on the ‘Fasten Seat Belts’ sign, as we’ve gotten word that there’s some rough air up ahead. Sit tight.”