Page 231 of Barinov

“Nothing.” I nod toward the exit, slipping my phone back into my pocket. “Marisol needs me to pick up some Ivy chick from the airport and—”

“Ahh!” Bella screams, jumping up and down and dropping her clipboard onto a chair. “She’s here!”

I raise a brow. “You knew?”

“Of course.”

“Who is she?”

“An old friend of mine and Zeke’s,” she says, her excitement softening as her fingers drift to the ink on her wrist. “What time does she land?”

I fish my phone back out to check the screen. The text from Marisol has just popped up. “Jesus Christ, Mar.”

“What?”

“In twenty fucking minutes.”

“Then go!” Bella says, her palms landing flat on my chest as she physically shoves me toward the double doors. “This is important, baby.”

I grab her by the wrist and yank her flush against my chest. “I don’t like leaving you.”

“I promise,” she says softly, rising up on her tiptoes to press a sweet little kiss to my lips. “I’ll make it worth your hassle later.”

♥♥♥

LaGuardia Airport

Thirty minutes later, I’m standing at the arrivals terminal surrounded by families holding up cardboard signs and tired business travelers dragging their carry-ons. I look like a dark, pissed-off specter in my leather jacket, leaning against a concrete pillar with my arms crossed over my chest.

According to Marisol’s text, flight 409 had landed ten minutes ago.

I pull out my phone to double-check the sparse details she sent. No picture. Just a gate number and a name.

Ivy.

I check my watch for the fourth time in two minutes, my patience wearing paper-thin. If this bitch doesn’t show in the next five seconds, I’m leaving her ass here. Fucking Marisol and her bullshit friends.

I lean heavier against the pillar, scowling at the terminal door.

“So…” a light and dry voice comes from somewhere way below my chin. “You have got to be Lex.”

I look down, my eyes widening slightly as I take in the chick standing in front of me. She’s tiny—barely reaching my chest—with pale skin and a curly black bob. Her bangs and the very ends of her hair are this blinding, highlighter-neon green, matching a pair of thick rimmed glasses perched on her nose. She’s wearing a black-and-white checkered dress, heavy black combat boots, and a sleeve of dark, gothic ivy and rose tattoos inked all the way up her left arm.

She’s cute. In a totally alternative, gothic-chic kind of way. But she also sort of looks like she might bite my hand if I were to reach out and pat her on the head.

I blink, adjusting to the sudden burst of neon in my vision. “Ivy?”

“The one and only. You are Lex, right?”

“How’d you guess?”

Ivy offers a smirk, her dark eyes sparkling behind her neon green frames as she shifts her heavy backpack. “Because Marisol said you’d be the one looking like you’d rather punch a wall than be here picking up a stranger.” She eyes me up and down. “Though the dreamy blue eyes and leather jacket are a pleasant surprise.”

“Dreamy blue eyes?”

“Hey, I just call it how I see it, handsome,” Ivy grins, extending a hand with matte-black painted nails. “Nice to meet you.”

I look at her tiny hand, then back up to those ridiculous green glasses, and let out a heavy sigh. I reach out, my massive hand completely swallowing hers as we shake.