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She nodded, and Gabriel led me out the door.
--
I showered and changed at Gabriel's, and I planned to grab a taxi, presuming Ricky would have his bike at the airport. Gabriel was having none of that. He would deliver me to the doors of the appropriate terminal, where he would watch until I was safely inside. I could say he was overreacting, but given the events of the last few days, he really wasn't.
I stood with the usual crowd of friends and family at the bottom of the baggage claim escalators and tried not to bounce on my toes like an excited kid. As I spotted Ricky at the top, a young woman beside me whispered to her friend, "Who's that?" They began speculating--musician, actor, model . . .
When I first met Ricky, I thought he looked like Hollywood's version of a biker. Six feet, well-built, tousled blond hair to his collar, hazel eyes, and a cleft chin when he shaved. What bolstered the whispering, though, were the two Satan's Saints who stood on the escalator step behind him. To his left was CJ, who looked pretty much exactly like you'd expect from an aging biker. Big guy, late forties, slight paunch, graying beard, stringy ponytail, and shit-kicker boots. The other was Wallace, sergeant-at-arms--Don Gallagher's right-hand man and main enforcer. Wallace is clean-cut and almost as tall as Gabriel, with an extra twenty pounds of muscle. Both men could pass for roadies or bodyguards, and that's what the girls obviously mistook them for.
Ricky was staring straight ahead, lost in his thoughts. Wallace said something and as Ricky looked over, he noticed me and gave a blast of a grin that had the girls beside me twittering. He jogged down the rest of the steps, strode over, and scooped me up in a soldier-on-furlough kiss.
Whispers snaked around us. I'd caught a few earlier, but that kiss made people take a closer look. They recognized me and Ricky from a Chicago Post photo a few weeks ago. I heard my name and "biker," and I'm sure Ricky did, too, but he just kept grinning down at me.
"I didn't expect this," he said. "Thank you."
Wallace and CJ walked over.
"Hey, Miz Jones," CJ said.
"Hey, guys." I asked how their flight was as we headed to the baggage carousel. Then I said to Ricky, "I know you thought you'd be clear tonight. Does that still stand? Or does your dad need you?"
Ricky would have texted me if our plans had changed. I was saying this for Wallace and CJ's benefit. My relationship with Ricky didn't thrill Don Gallagher. He seemed to like me well enough. What he didn't like is the Gabriel-me-Ricky dynamic. While Gabriel has made it clear he has no romantic interest in me, Don would rather Ricky kept his distance, just to be safe. Don values Gabriel's legal expertise too much to rock that boat.
"Nope, it's all good," Ricky said. "I checked in with him before I invited you over."
"Ah. Well, in that case . . ." I glanced meaningfully at a sign for the airport Hilton. "It's a long drive back to the city, and I'm sure you had a tiring flight."
His eyes glinted, sending a familiar lick of heat through me.
"Go on," CJ said. "We'll grab your bag."
"Thanks." Ricky put his arm around my shoulders and we walked away.
"Was that okay?" I said when we were out of earshot.
"My girlfriend surprises me at the airport and drags me off to a hotel? I don't think my rep will ever recover. I definitely owe you."
"I'm looking forward to repayment. It was a very long three days."
"Damn straight."
He tugged me around as he backed up. Next thing I knew, we were in a short service hall, partially blocked by a massive cardboard standee. He propelled me to the end and then pulled me into a kiss. If the one at the escalator had started reminding me how much I'd missed him, this one cemented it.
Five seconds later, I had my back to the wall, arms around his neck, hands in his hair, his hands under my ass. By the time I broke the kiss, I wasn't even sure where we were anymore, and I looked around, blinking, before saying, "Hotel, five minutes, that way."
He dropped his lips to my neck as he pressed against me. "So near and yet so far."
I chuckled. "Well, if you don't want to wait . . ."
"Tempting," he said as his lips moved up my throat.
"I am wearing a skirt."
"I noticed." His hands slid under it, cupping my ass again.
"Did you notice what I'm not wearing?"
His fingers checked, making sure I didn't just have on a thong. Then he groaned, pushing against me. "Now, that is a tease."
