Page 11 of Mile High Heist

Either that, or God was just as much of a dick as his faithful servant, Preacher. I shifted in my seat again, stretching out in the generous leg room. That was a mistake.

The woman across from me practically purred. “I find it so bizarre that we’ve never crossed paths before,” she said, sipping her complimentary bubbles. Her eyes raked sharply up my legs, lingering on my crotch where the suit bunched.

I was half-tempted to slap my hands over my junk like a bashful choir boy.

Instead, I gave her a snarling grin that should’ve deterred her. “I like to keep to myself.”

“A lawyer who doesn’t like attention,” the woman mused, clicking her tongue. “How refreshing.”

Her and her Pepto-Bismol pink suit were giving me an ulcer. I placed her somewhere in her early fifties. She had razor-straight black hair and thick mascara-lined eyes. No wedding ring. A fact that she made blatantly clear as she raised her glass for a toast.

I drained mine in a single gulp. The burn was welcome; the pit in my stomach was not.

We’d been in the air less than ten minutes. I’d watched the safety presentation distractedly, my mind stuck on a different flight attendant somewhere else on the plane.

I hated her in that uniform.

The deviant in me begged to ruin it. The fact that Olivia was forbidden fruit only made it harder to resist.

Hence, the universe decided to kick me in the balls.

The seatbelt sign had barely blinked off when the pink-suit woman strutted into my pod as if she owned it. Maybe she did. The price tag attached to my first-class seat was enough to fund a whole fucking vacation. For her, it was probably chump change.

I learned that she was a district judge on some fancy-shmancy award panel at the lawyer summit. Initially, that put my guard up, as I was claiming to be headed to the same conference. But it became obvious pretty quickly that she wasn’t interested in my conversation skills.

Noticing my empty glass, she flagged down another. I’d forgotten her name, just like I kept forgetting to react whenever she called me ‘Noah’.

Fucking Preacher, I grumbled internally. That was the last time I allowed him to choose my alias.

While she was distracted waving down a flight attendant, I shuffled forward and checked my phone again. With Zola’s help, we managed to patch into the in-flight Wi-Fi and establish a secure channel. My crew checked in from their various posts on the plane.

SUNSHINE: I wanna switch seats. Someone spat in my mouth & there’s gum on my seat.

SPARROW: What flavor?

I smirked at Madoc’s response. Just two words, and my phone went haywire.

SUNSHINE: I didn’t eat it!

SUNSHINE: What is wrong with u??

SUNSHINE: Wait. NVM. I don’t even want to unpack that.

SUNSHINE: I already have nightmares.

I waited but Olivia’s chat bubble never appeared. I was confirming we still had eyes on our mark when the cougar across from me exclaimed: “Over here, girl! Another champagne.”

I rolled my eyes without looking up.

“In fact, we’ll take the bottle on ice. Fresh glasses. And bring it straight here.”

There was a beat.

And then—

“Right away, ma’am.”

My head snapped up.