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As I clamored out of the passenger’s seat of the car, everything fell silent. A bit too silent, honestly. Between Dominik barking at me, throwing my suitcase at my feet, and him careening around corners like we were in some Fast and Furious movie, it seemed odd that things had gone quiet so quickly.
And as I looked over at the man clutching his bag, I found his gaze locked with something.
“What is it?” I asked.
When he didn’t respond, I followed his stare. My eyes made a beeline for whatever the hell it was that he was looking at, and when I found a man dressed in all black standing just beyond the chain-link tarmac fence, I furrowed my brow.
“Do you know that man?” I asked.
Dominik cleared his throat. “Get on the fucking plane, Eden. Let’s go.”
I scoffed. “Jesus, fine. Let’s go, then.”
The second we clambered onto the plane, I made my way toward one of the back rooms. I sure as hell wasn’t riding sixteen hours home in a god damn bikini, so I quickly changed into a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt. Not my best look, but it would keep me comfortable for the plane ride home.
And as soon as the plane took off, darkness took my vision once more.
While I hadn’t expected there to be pleasantries during any of these trips, Dominik was shorter and more curt than usual. The second I felt the plane descending into LAX, I jerked awake, and the man was eager to get off the plane. His movements jerked around. His eyes couldn’t quite focus on anything around him. It had me worried that he was honestly in trouble. Or, that something terrible had happened at work.
Hey, maybe his reputation had gotten scarred in the media, so now he had to do recon on his own name.
The thought tugged a smile across my face.
“The hell are you smiling at?” Dominik asked.
I turned my attention to him briefly. “Nothing. Just thinking.”
“Well, think while you’re off my jet. Your car’s waiting for you outside.”
I blinked. “We aren’t riding together?”
He started off the plane. “I figured you’d be happy to be rid of me. Now, come on. Quit asking stupid questions.”
I hope you choke, dickweed.
I watched him move toward one car, so I instinctively went toward the other. I loaded my stuff into the backseat and, as his car peeled off into the Saturday evening sunset, I found myself looking around. The man at the tarmac back in The Maldives? I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the reason Dominik had gotten so spooked.
“Miss Rochere?” someone asked.
I turned to find the driver staring at me. “Yes, my apologies.”
“Are you ready to head out?”
I nodded before ducking into the car. “Absolutely.”
Dominik’s car faded quickly into the distance before we even pulled off the tarmac itself, but as the driver took me home, relief washed its way through my veins. Maybe the emergency was something so grand and so important that he’d forget all about our contract. Or, at the very least, he wouldn’t be able to jet away for a few weeks.
“One can only hope,” I murmured to myself.
“What was that, miss?” the driver asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Just talking to myself. You know, working out the kinks of my upcoming work week.”
“Mr. Drake tells me that you’re a prominent criminal lawyer.”
I paused. “He talks about me?”
The driver chuckled. “More than he probably realizes. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
