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“You’re wicked,” he accused her. “But as much as I’d love to see that, be good. I need my job.”
“No you don’t, he just gets you shot at, remember?” she retorted in amusement. “If he fires you I’ll pimp you out, hon. You should make enough to at least pay your rent.”
“You don’t charge me rent,” he reminded her suspiciously.
“Yeah,” Zoey drawled. “I didn’t forget that either.”
She laughed when he made the next turn without warning her. She was far enough behind that following him wasn’t a problem, though.
The narrow blacktop lane led deep into the rolling hills bordering Louisville. They were in no way mountains, just gentle upraised slopes sheltering shallow valleys. The private airfield was located in such a valley. Several large hangars sat just back from the paved landing strip, appearing deserted and completely unassuming.
“He’s in the first hangar.” Eli pointed the large metal building out. “He has his own private jet and makes full use of it. Family money and all that shit.”
“As I said, ain’t he just special,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. “Is this meeting going to take long?”
The boss’s boss actually sounded like he’d be fun as hell to torment for a minute. Did he have a sense of humor?
Well, Eli was still alive, so he had to have a sense of humor, she thought in amusement. Even she considered shooting him once a week. He could be just that infuriating.
“It shouldn’t take long. I just have to pass along some stuff Graham sent, find excuses not to accompany him on whatever harebrained op he’s decided he needs me for, and then we’ll be on our way.”
She didn’t believe him. It was that edge of resignation in his voice. The sound of a man who knows better than the explanation he was trying to force-feed her.
“Twenty minutes max,” he promised.
“Hmm. I’ll time you.” Following him to the entrance of the hangar, Zoey drew the cycle to a stop beside Eli’s and cut the engine.
Releasing her helmet, she removed it and hung it on the sissy bar behind her before shrugging the light leather jacket from her shoulders and laying it over the back of the seat.
“I promise, I won’t be long.” Helmet removed, his own jacket slung over the back of his bike, Eli watched her with a hint of discomfort now.
He so was not looking forward to this. It was almost amusing the way the big boss could intimidate him far better than her brother, Dawg, could.
“Go,” she laughed, waving her fingers toward the jet parked in the hangar. “I’ll wait, no matter how long. You can buy me a greasy cheeseburger later for my trouble.”
He shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips, before striding to the steps leading into the private jet. “Those cheeseburgers will kill you, Zoe-Zoe.”
“Not before I kill you for calling me all those damned sissy names,” she warned him, though her gaze was on the jet.
Nice jet too, if she wasn’t mistaken.
Dismounting the bike, she stood staring around the valley, stretching her legs for a minute before sitting crossways on the comfortable seat and straightening the small chains and charms that dangled from the zipper tabs of her boots.
She hated waiting. She wasn’t the patient type unless she was hunting. She’d enjoyed that. Unfortunately Natches had ended the hunting lessons rather abruptly no more than a few months after they’d begun.
When he’d informed her they weren’t going hunting anymore, she arched her brow, anger pulsing through her. “Afraid I’ll get good at it?” she’d charged him.
Natches shook his head. “No, little sister,” he sighed. “Afraid you’ll get too good at it.”
Hell, that was years ago. What had made her think about that?
Waiting, probably, she thought with a snort.
As much as she thought of Elijah, when the twenty minutes passed, she could feel herself becoming frustrated. She could feel herself beginning to think of things better left alone. That was why she hated waiting. She’d only gotten worse in the past year.
“It was a nightmare, Zoey.”
“Always remember, you killed me, Zoey . . .”
