Page 66 of Mile High Ruin

The moment the bedroom door closes behind me, I find all three men looking at me. Anton is trying not to. Iosef makes a respectable effort. Marek doesn’t bother.

I stop in the aisle. “Get it out.”

Marek’s eyebrows rise. “I beg your pardon?”

“You have been sitting here preparing questions since I carried her away. Ask them now so I don’t have to listen to you choke on them for the rest of the flight.”

That is apparently all the invitation he requires.

“Is she sleeping in your bed?”

“Yes.”

Marek leans forward. “Your bed?”

“There is only one.”

“Did you put her there?”

“She can walk.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Yes, Marek, I placed her on the bed.”

His expression becomes delighted. “You carried her into your bedroom, tucked her into your bed, and remained there with her.”

“I didn’t tuck her in.”

There’s a pause.

Iosef looks at me. “You pulled the blanket over her, didn’t you?”

I glare at him.

Even Anton laughs at that.

I sit down. “This conversation is already regrettable.”

Marek takes a drink. “You threatened to kill a pilot, carried a flight attendant to your bedroom, and disappeared for nearly an hour. What precisely did you imagine we would discuss?”

“The reason somebody has tried to kill me three times in four months would be productive.”

That sobers them.

Mostly. Marek still looks amused.

Iosef closes the tablet in front of him. “We have been discussing that.”

“Good.”

I glance toward the front. Hale sits restrained and silent beneath Anton’s occasional supervision. The copilot remains locked in the cockpit, and the aircraft has returned to the smooth, steady flight we were supposedly never going to lose.

“Any update from Marseille?”

Iosef nods. “The men we identified last week were tied to Petrov.”

That confirms what I suspected. Viktor Petrov has spent the better part of four months attempting to arrange my death because I shot his younger brother in Warsaw on his head.