Page 76 of Mile High Heist

What I was feeling was my usual dose of frustration when it came to her. I reached for her waist and tossed her over my shoulder. She squealed in protest, then kneed me hard in the ribs.

I groaned.

“Not sorry,” she said like a brat, but she didn’t knee me again.

I carried her across the cargo hold, Nate leading the way and Madoc at my flank. The cargo hold was a disaster zone—the containers were gone, and most of the luggage, but what was left was a debris of clothes and belongings, including a stray butt plug.

Funny what survived.

Madoc said something quietly to Olivia, who huffed over my back, clearly offended. My mouth twitched.

Those two had it bad.

Should I be jealous of that? Probably. But my head was a graveyard. I wasn’t sure I was even blinking properly. My vision was fuzzy, and my mouth tasted like copper.

Nate went first up the cargo hatch, making sure the coast was clear. I forced Madoc to go next, who gave me an unimpressed look. I flipped him off and carried Olivia up with me.

Returning to the economy cabin was surreal, like stumbling into an alternative dimension. The masks had been deployed from the overheads, with some passengers still using them to manage their panic attacks. The turbulence had stopped, but the sour tang of terror lingered.

Nate glanced back at me knowingly. “Bat shit,” he mouthed.

I gestured for him to come closer. He did so eagerly. “Clear a path for us,” I told him. “We need to get to the first-class cabin. We’re not exactly conspicuous.”

“No shit,” he said, looking at the three of us, bloody, beaten, and bruised. “On it.”

Olivia wriggled on my shoulder. “Put me down. I can walk. And people are staring.”

"So? Let them fucking stare."

"I'm not a damsel." She twisted, knees jabbing into my ribs. "I'm serious, Jax. Down. Now."

I rolled my eyes and lowered her carefully to the ground. She winced, but moved forward determinedly. I smirked at her back.

With Nate taking the lead, we headed down the aisle. My limp worsened as my adrenaline started to wane. Damn. The priss was right. Feeling it was going to suck.

Our first obstacle was the flight attendant, Marcus, who took one look at us and dropped what appeared to be ten grand worth of laptops.

“Jesus H,” he said. “What happened?”

Nate took point. “What happened? This flight happened. Look around, dipshit. You call this mild turbulence?”

Marcus paled, glancing around. Nate went in for the kill. “My father owns a law firm and you can fucking bet we’ll be suing. Not just the airline, but you. Personally.”

Marcus balked and stepped back. He was still apologizing as we limped on by him. Olivia shot him a remorseful look.

Nate’s threatening-to-sue bit worked like a charm as we navigated our way to the first-class cabin. I was dragging, my eyelids drooping. Every muscle in my body hurt. Madoc pretended he wasn’t hovering, ready to catch me when I crashed.

I refused to crash. Not until I knew we were actually safe.

There were still too many unanswered questions. Like what did the Viper mean about Olivia being claimed? Claimed by who?

What really happened down there?

My body had other ideas.

My knee gave out. Madoc caught me like I knew he would. His hands were cold as ice where they wrapped around my biceps. He lifted me, then slung my arm over his shoulder.

That was when Ryle appeared, bursting into the cabin from wherever he’d been hiding to avoid the air marshal after he’d broken out the handcuffs.