Page 63 of Mile High Heist

Jax never masked his emotions. When he was angry, he was angry. Scared, annoyed, horny—he revealed it all, like he couldn’t contain it. He couldn’t be contained.

I saw no value in life, but Jax was a stark reminder of what it meant to be alive. He was a raw spectrum of emotions, feeling everything all at once. He leaned forward so he could check my pupils. Concussion protocol. His fingers trembled as he absorbed my anger. He felt enough for the both of us.

It would be easy to kiss him. Easy to taint his mouth with my blood and swallow him whole.

The chains rattled. Take him. Do it.

When I couldn’t bear it a second longer, I shoved on his chest.

He stepped back, dropping his hands automatically. His face was shadowed.

“They took her,” I said, filling in the gaps.

His nostrils flared. He nodded. “Two more passengers are dead. And they still fucking took her.”

I smiled.

Jax snarled. “The fuck are you smiling about? I’m going to get her back.”

I didn’t doubt it.

Jax was a caged beast. And they’d been poking and prodding at him through the bars for hours.

“I know where she is,” I said, and held up my shiny new badge. “And I know how to get in.”

There was just no guarantee we’d make it back out.

18

OLIVIA

Even planes had basements.

As soon as I realized where he was taking me, my body started to resist. I dragged my heels. Tugged on his hand. He gave me a warning look that reminded me exactly what was at stake. Behave, or they die.

So I forced myself to go along. It went against every instinct I had.

The cargo hold wasn’t supposed to be accessible mid-flight. For good reason. It was bone-chillingly cold. Even though it was pressurized, it wasn’t designed for comfort. My breath ghosted out in front of me as we climbed down the ladder. The morbid part of my brain imagined it was tiny fragments of my soul leaving my body.

Sometimes my brain could be a real bitch.

It was obvious my captor had a destination in mind. He dragged me around the huge aluminum luggage containers, each one weighing over a ton. My brain was on a roll and decided to provide me with a fun little girl-crushed-to-death production. It was only marginally better than girl-pushed-out-of-plane-at-thirty-five-thousand-feet.

“Where are we going?” I asked in a nervous puff. My heels clicked ominously on the cold metal floor.

He ignored me. He was obviously still pissy about the whole tasering thing. I couldn’t help but feel smug about it. Even if I was going to pay for it now.

He jerked me to a stop at a small gap between two of the girl-crushing containers. Then he shoved me between them and pulled out a zip tie from his pocket.

“Y-You don’t have to do that,” I chattered, tucking my hands behind me. “It’s not l-like I can go anywhere.”

His hand shoved me back against the container. I yelped, startled. Then I froze when he moved in, pressing his huge body against me. “I am not allowed to kill you,” he said, each word puffing white over my face. “But I am allowed to hurt you.”

Girl crushed by giant oaf.

Nope.

Grinding my teeth, I extended my hands obediently. His satisfaction was sickening as he bound them together so tight that my fingers instantly tingled.