Shit. I shouldn’t be touching her.
Her eyes widen as she stares at me, then looks at the suitcase I’m still clasping like it’s full of weapons-grade plutonium.
This thing won’t leave my sight until we get to Fairfax’s office.
Even then, I might not let it go, but I’m sure as hell not leaving it with anyone besides Cleo.
The corner of her mouth pulls up in a smile.
“You look like a mafia dude hauling a million bucks in there,” she whispers.
“Delusional. I’d wager this is worth significantly more.”
“Yeah, but why”—she yawns again—“why soserious?”
“Because someone has to stay alert, Nile Queen. You can’t keep your eyes open. Have a nap.” I show her to her seat, puttingmy hand on her shoulder to guide her down into it so she doesn’t miss.
For a second, I inhale her. No hangover, and there’s no hint of alcohol or anything else.
Just a tired girl and this hint of fruit.Apple?
My nostrils flare.
If it isn’t perfume, it must be her shampoo, and I should absolutely not be fucking smelling her hair.
For a second, she whips around and looks at me.
I press my lips together and nod.
Too fucking close, you dog. What are you doing?
I don’t know. Looking around every corner for imminent disaster, and sniffing for it, too.
It’s in my DNA after a long career. Today I have one job and it’s to get her and the egg to our destination.
Nothing else matters.
Not her mental state, but it will help if she’s rested.
“What’s your deal?” she asks. She must sense I’m off my game.
“Just need a little coffee. I’ll get some when we’re in the air. You, sleep,” I growl again.
The way she smiles and shakes her head cuts me open.
Just a hint of the old, familiar, nosy Cleo Blackthorn, buried under a grown woman on a mission.
Another thought I need to purge from my frazzled brain.
“You’re bossy today. Careful,” she warns, but she doesn’t fight me as she settles into one of the oversized seats and curls up.
I stop the flight attendant and ask her for blankets and pillows. She brings me out a whole armful, and I tuck the pillow under her head.
A lock of silky cinnamon hair slides past my fingers.
Criminally soft.
Again, dripping with that damn apple scent.
