Cruz
I wandered back into economy after a while, trying my best to not look suspicious as I headed for the rear bathrooms, hoping the cabin crew would assume the other cubicles were occupied.
I walked down the plane on the right, surveying the passengers along the way. No one caught my eye until I reached the end of the plane.
Sneaky bastards…
There were three men sitting in a row on the right near the end of economy. All three looked hard and grim-faced. Eastern European or perhaps Russian, it was hard to tell. They all spotted me as I’d been walking up the plane and were trying their best to look nonchalant. But I wasn’t fooled.
The words of one of my contacts rang in my ears—the warning I’d been given about a Russian crew out to get their hands-on Alexandra’s dad’s software. Possible high level organized crime, or even secret military.
My gut told me these guys were serious. That they were mean, scarred, and vicious.
Why would three Russians be heading to Paris from San Francisco? Flying right at the back in economy, no less. As far as possible from my seat as they could get.
I looked around. The majority of the people near me were asleep or watching a film. I approached the three men, putting my hands on the seats on either side of the aisle in front of them.
“Having a nice flight, comrades?” I said.
They looked up at me, their expressions blank. One of them smiled cruelly for a second, letting me know he’d understood. The Russian in the aisle seat waved his hand at me dismissively, saying something in Russian that didn’t sound very nice.
“What’s that, Dmitry? Got a problem?” I paused and leaned forward toward him. “Because if you do, that means I’ve got a problem. And I don’t think you’ll fucking like that very much,” I said, grimacing menacingly, feeling the adrenaline pump into my muscles. I tensed my arms, gripping the seats tight.
My gaze flicked to the bathrooms on either side of the aisle. Both were unoccupied.
The Russian rose to his full height, a good few inches shorter than me. He didn’t look intimidated. He shrugged as if to dismiss me and pushed me in the chest. He turned his back and headed for a cubicle, likely thinking I was just a random angry American who didn’t like Russians.
Well, he was right about the latter, but my approach wasn’t random.
As he stepped into the cubicle, I swiftly forced my way in, locking the door behind me. In the small confines, he was no match for my brute strength. I lied into him savagely with body blows, a series of powerful punches to the chest, abdomen, and stomach with one final uppercut into his solar plexus. He collapsed, winded and pained.
“Listen, you fuck,” I spat, my finger an inch away from his face. “I know why you’re here. I know what you want, and you ain’t getting it. If I see you or any of your friends again, you won’t be breathing next time.”
He nodded, gasping for air and clutching his chest.
I pushed the cubicle door open to find the other two Russians staring at me. They made no move, aware that now wasn’t a good time for them to show their true colors.
I snorted at them derisively and walked back to my seat, my blood boiling.
As I walked away, I heard the door of the cubicle open. After a moment of bemused silence, the two Russians started laughing heartily at their colleague, who was presumably still half collapsed on the cubicle floor.
I arrived back at my seat to find it occupied. I could see a head poking above the seat, with headphones on. I approached quietly to see who had snuck into my seat, but if I had to guess…
Looking over the top of the seat, I got a view straight down Alexandra’s shirt and found myself staring at the mounds of her breasts and the top of her frilly pink bra. The fight had made me feel alive, and the view of Alexandra’s large breasts, rising and falling gently, had awoken a feeling within me that I’d long suppressed.
I stood still, not wanting to move my gaze. I couldn’t tell if she sensed me. But if she had, I knew the longer I waited, the more of a pervert I looked.
Deciding she hadn’t sensed my presence, I placed a large hand on her shoulder to get her attention. She jumped.
“Oh. Hi Cruz.” She looked up at me and put her hand on top of mine, trapping it in place on her shoulder. I felt a tingle of pleasure at her touch. “Sorry for stealing your seat. I just came down to check on you.”
Who’s looking after who here, beautiful? I thought.
“I’m all good, Lex,” I said. “Just had to take a look around, you know. No trouble to be found.”
We locked eyes for a few long seconds, holding each other’s gaze. I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to kiss her…
“How are things up there?” I asked, gesturing towards first-class and trying to redirect my attention.
She gazed into my eyes for a few long seconds. I got the impression that the minutiae of the first-class experience was definitely not what was on her mind. Each time she stared at me, I got the feeling that she was trying to see straight through me. Trying to figure me out. It thrilled me and made me want to squirm at the same time.
“It’s great, thanks,” she said. “Oh, apart from Olivia and Lucy. They’re starting to grate on my nerves already.” She chuckled. Her hand was still on mine, she squeezed it gently. “Why don't you come back up to first with me since there’s no trouble down here? They’ve got a bar there. Plus, we still have about three hours left until we get to Paris.”
She looked up at me expectantly, her large brown eyes sparkling.
I considered her offer, thinking about how the only trouble was those Russians, who wouldn’t be trying anything any time soon.
Fuck it, could use a drink, I thought. And wouldn’t mind looking at Alexandra for a few hours, either.
“You got yourself a deal, miss,” I said with an attempted smile that was really more of a rough grimace. But she smiled back nonetheless.
I frowned, looking up at the curtain between us and the stairs to first class. I put on a serious, hard face, my big jaw muscles bunching. “One thing though. If they don’t let me up there, there’ll be trouble.”
She frowned for a second, and then burst out laughing.