His words pierced through the veil of Ike’s mind, triggering a revolt.
Plane crash in Lesotho.
The private plane should’ve been far away from the tiny nation surrounded by South Africa. His parents had gone to the border of Ethiopia and Sudan to provide much needed resources to Christian missionaries in the area.
The plane had vanished from air traffic radars. Despite exhaustive searches of the two countries, there was no confirmed crash. Even though his parents’ bodies were never found, Ike knew they were gone.
But Aslan had said the plane had crashed twenty-five hundred miles south of where everyone believed his parents had been.
How the fuck did Aslan know that?
If the Brazhenskys had intel on his parents’ plane that the authorities had yet to find, Ike needed to know. He needed to solve the mystery of what happened to his parents. His family deserved the truth, so they could move on from the tragic and unexpected loss. It would be a final gift to Serena and Gabrielle.
But only if he stayed alive.
Ike’s arms swung out, grasping for the ledge, but he couldn’t grab hold.
Three floors down, a corner condo with a wraparound balcony loomed in the trajectory of his fall. With the brisk wind blowing and the altitude, he might crash land there instead of bashing his brains out on the driveway below.
Igor released his grasp, sending Ike swaying in the wind.
Ike tensed in anticipation, eyes locking on Aslan’s beefy hand clutched tightly around his left ankle. As Aslan uncurled his fingers from digging into Ike’s flesh, Ike slipped from the man’s grasp and hurtled through the air.
Balmy wind roared past Ike’s ears. PISCO training kicked in. Ike maneuvered into the position of a HALO jump. The g-force squeezed the air from his lungs. He fought the pressure to turn his head. The balcony was in view.
Seconds later, he crashed with a loud thud onto an oversized tufted ottoman, then bounced to the left and flipped onto his side as he slammed into the marble floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, writhing in agony.
The sweet bliss of pain told him he’d survived.
For now.
By his calculations, it would take nine minutes for Aslan and Igor to make their way down to this level and finish what they’d started.
Ike wouldn’t be here waiting.
Opening his eyes, he tried to rise.
A patent leather, sapphire blue open-toed stiletto heel pressed against his bare chest and forced him back to the floor.
His eyes drifted from the toes, painted a shimmering silver, to the toned, deep brown muscular calf. Supple thighs that stretched for days emerged from a matching blue minidress that barely covered her round, peach of an ass. His cock stiffened as his body registered the sexy curves before his brain could comprehend. Voluptuous breasts teased him from the top of the dress, leading to a graceful neck and the most beautiful face he’d ever laid eyes upon. Stunning dark eyes, blacker than the darkest night, peered into his soul. A sweet smirk played at the edges of her full lips.
Shit.
Had he died and gone to heaven?
Or was this the devil taunting him before plunging him into the fiery pits of hell?
Straight black hair tossed over one shoulder dangled to her waist as she leaned closer to him. A single blue hibiscus flower, native to the Palmchat Islands—his home—was tucked behind her ear.
Blue hibiscus …
“No, wait,” Ike gasped, fumbling with his words. “Don’t do this …”
The woman’s smile grew brighter and damn near took his breath away.
But Ike knew what she planned to do next.
“I have to,” she said, her voice sultry and deep. “It’s the only way I can save you.”
