Page 21 of Mile High Heist

He gulped.

7

OLIVIA

Iwasn’t a thief. Not officially.

My job wasn’t to steal anything. It was to pour drinks, assist passengers, and help with the luggage.

I was a flight attendant, and that was exactly what I intended to be.

But first, I needed to get myself back into order. Madoc’s reaction to my appearance had made me paranoid. He definitely knew what Jax and I had done. He was like a bloodhound, sniffing out the faintest whiff of vulnerability.

I booked it to the bathroom for a quick refresh. I straightened my ponytail, adjusted my scarf so it hid the stubble rash from Jax.

You will not let them distract you.

You will not let Jax give you all those warm, gushy feelings.

You will not let Madoc mess with your head.

You will not. You will not. You will not.

Priorities restored, I set my plan into motion and went to find Julie. I hadn’t seen her since take-off. I assumed she was upstairs, working the upper economy with Lucille. Instead, I found her alone in lower economy, pushing the beverage trolley with a furious expression.

Judging from her appearance, her patience had frayed to a mere thread. She was noticeably disheveled, her dark ponytail limp, hair frizzy around her temples. Her uniform was creased, like mine, but I suspected for very different reasons.

“Oh, thank god!” She exclaimed when she saw me. She was midway through pouring coffee.

“Need some help?” I asked her.

“That would be great.” Forcing a smile, she handed the coffee to a man who was arguing loudly on his phone. He didn’t even thank her.

Julie rolled her eyes. “I’ve been thoroughly disenchanted by this supersized hell chamber.”

I hitched onto the other side of the trolley and started restocking the condiments from the drawer. My eyes flicked to the row numbers. We were at six. That gave me another six rows until I reached Peter Vincelli. Plenty of time to come up with a convincing lie.

Like a new protocol about unrestrained luggage. Or a complaint from a nearby passenger, or even a random safety check.

He wouldn’t buy any of them. But maybe it would force his hand.

Question was: would that same hand snap my neck as soon as my back was turned?

No. Not out in the open. Not with a plane full of witnesses. He was trying to stay under the radar, just like me.

“Lucille has me running laps like a greyhound,” Julie complained as she cracked open a soda, using the ring on her finger to flick the tab. Smooth.

Julie slammed the cup down hard enough to make the trolley rattle.

“I’ve known women like her my whole life,” she went on, clearly pent up. “Entitled, pretentious—can you pass me the sugar?”

I did, my eyes darting to the row number.

We were at nine. Three rows left.

“She actually used the line, 'I thought girls like you were supposed to be intelligent?' Like, are you kidding me right now?”

“She’s a bitch,” I agreed, smiling distractedly as I dropped a tea bag into a paper cup and handing it to a frizzy-haired woman. She gave me a short, dismissive look, her fingers flying over her keyboard. Lawyers, I thought with an eyeroll.