Page 88 of Mile High Heist

“Not if we keep the sharks fed.” I dipped down and kissed her tears. More immediately followed. The dam was broken. “One day, Preacher will ask something of you that will make you cross too many lines. There’s no coming back from that. You need to fight him. Take back your fucking independence.”

Eyes glistening, she shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You can. Look at what you’ve done already.”

Her mouth pursed doubtfully, not believing me.

Fuck it.

I leaned down and kissed her. She was stiff at first, shocked, too sad. Then she opened her mouth, and I tasted her. And myself.

I was wrong—this was my addiction.

I pulled back, just enough to bite her bottom lip. Her eyes flared at the sting, alert.

“No more secrets,” I growled. “No more fucking lies. You work with me. Only me.” I butted my nose against hers. “When we land in Zurich, I have another buyer lined up. Cal is already there, keeping him happy. You call Molly, you tell her to go to the address I give you. Zola will meet her there.”

Olivia shuddered. “Jax.”

“No more running,” I blazed on. “I’m trusting you.”

Don’t make me regret it.

More tears slipped out. I rolled onto my side and pulled her into my chest. I held her as she sobbed.

“It’s a pipedream,” she whispered wetly against my skin. “We can’t take on the world, Jax.”

“We can burn it down trying.”

24

OLIVIA

For a while, I was floating. A good cry was what I needed, and boy, did it work. My fingers traced the scars across Jax’s chest. I counted them idly— four, five, six—until my eyes grew heavy.

But I couldn’t fall asleep. Not when my mind was still reeling from everything he’d told me.

Jax had a plan.

Of course he had a plan. I should’ve known he would never allow a man like Preacher to own him. He’d just been biding his time, which was impressive considering Jax was not a patient guy. In fact, he was the most hotheaded person I’d ever met.

Except when it came to his crew. His family.

I’m trusting you.

Damn him and his stupid, sincere, post-orgasmic speeches. He caught me at a weak moment. I was pliable against him, soft and wet. I felt downright needy in my desire to crawl into his skin and stay there.

I was so pathetically whipped.

I sighed as I rolled onto my back. My face felt gummy and hot from my embarrassing sobfest. But I felt lighter than I had in months. I could breathe without that niggling pressure in my chest.

Could I really do this?

God, I wanted to.

My heart throbbed with so much want that it felt like it would burst. I pressed my fingers to my chest and counted to a hundred. When I thought about a future with Jax, my heart actually skipped. A hopeless little giggle escaped me.

That was the word for it—hope. I hadn’t realized just how depressing my life had become until suddenly I could see through the fog. I’d resigned myself to being indebted to Preacher forever. I’d convinced myself that it was mine and Molly’s only option. That I could live with it.