Page 14 of Fixed Asset

“I know what important means, Jack. I don’t need an itemized list,” she sassed.

Good Christ, I wanted to kiss that attitude off her lips.

“We’re headed to San Pedro Sula,” I told her.

“Why?”

“Do you want to have this conversation now, or wait until the buzzing’s stopped?”

Cat thought for a moment, undoubtedly weighing the pain in her ears against her impatience.

“Wait.”

With that, she pushed away from the seats, swiveled on her knees, and crawled back to her spot next to Fallon. Her ass was on display, her hips were swaying, my dick was getting harder by the second.

Goddamn woman was going to be the death of me.

Chapter Five

My poor ass was not made for this.

Some of us had never taken a transatlantic flight in the cargo hold of a C-130.

Me. I was that someone.

All my deployments to Europe and central Asia had been aboard a C-17. One could say the Air Force had it going on. The Globemaster was luxury compared to the Hercules. Or so I’d been told by bellyaching sailors.

And the hard metal of the van’s loading bay made a Hercules look like first class. My ass was officially numb. That, and my back was killing me from being jostled around. Fallon and Mason didn’t look like they had an ache or a pain. Mason had tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He must have been awake, unless he possessed some special skill that gave him the ability to chew gum and sleep at the same time. Fallon was scrolling through sports headlines on his phone and had been since he’d stopped showing me memes he had saved on his cell. I was now in possession of the useless knowledge that he favored Florida sports teams. This would come in handy if one day there was a Fallon trivia night. He also got sidetracked a lot and fell for clickbait headlines.

When I couldn’t take it a second longer, I scooted away from the wall and crab-crawled to the front of the van. It must be noted, the crab-crawl was due to the aches and pains. If I could’ve managed to get to my hands and knees without whimpering and showing weakness, you could bet your ass I would’ve. Fallon barely glanced in my direction before he went back to his phone.

I was nearly to the front when Jack turned and took me in.

The grin on the bastard’s face had me wanting to bite his lip and see if he was still smiling after I drew blood—especially when the grin turned lopsided and one side of his mouth pulled up in the sexiest freaking smirk.

I think at this point in my life I’d suffered from too many concussions. There was no other explanation for my attraction toward a man who’d made it clear he wasn’t interested—though he did want to spank me. Which merited contemplation, at least by the part of me that was turned on. But only after I puzzled out why I was attracted to a man who infuriated me.

He only infuriates you because you want to bang him.

Yup. I needed to see a head doctor. I was now talking to myself.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I need to hit the head.”

Jack blinked and stared like I was speaking in a foreign tongue.

“The bathroom,” I clarified.

“I know what the head is.”

That’s what she said.

“Great. Then can we pull over so I can use it?”

Jack’s gaze slid to the windshield. Mine followed. Nothing but beautiful green trees with a gentle slope of a hill on the right.

“I’ll take a bush,” I told him.