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“I need air,” I wheeze. Before waiting for anyone to answer me, I make my way toward the door and throw it open.
“Sweets, stay here.”
“Come back, babe.”
I stumble as I hear the desperate pleas from my men, but I ignore them.
Turning to the left, I go toward where Whistler said he would wait for us. It’s right around the corner, the perfect place to hide.
My legs feel like they might give out at any moment, and all I can hear is an angry buzzing in my ears and the beats of my heart. I don’t feel good in my skin, I feel dirty.
“Whistler?” I whisper when I can’t see him. “Whistler? Where the hell are you?”
A whistle reaches my ears. It’s shrill, and I guess I can see how it earned him his code name. Following the noise, I look around, happy to see that no one is nearby. I have no idea how Whistler managed to evacuate everyone. All I know is that it’s good no one heard the shouts coming from our private room.
Before placing my hand on the door handle to the disabled bathroom, I feel a sense of trepidation. A coldness slithers down my spine.
“In here,” Whistler murmurs before whistling again. I make my way over to the women’s bathroom where the second whistle came from, and as soon as I enter the bright room, my vision goes black.
As I slowly come to, my first thought is how badly I need to pee. The overwhelming need to empty my bladder is all I can focus on as I groan and stretch. My second thought is how badly my head is pounding, but I try to push that to the back of my mind, even as the punishing light shines too bright above me.
Rolling off the bed I’m lying in, I open the door at the end of the small cabin-like room and find the bathroom. After doing my business, I lean across the sink, splashing cold water into my face. This is so strange, how can I still be on the flight to New York? I vividly remember getting changed on Martin’s private jet. Just as I easily recall being in the hotel room, the unsavory delivery by none other than Gaby Harrison—a friend of Jewell’s.
I chuckle to myself and wipe my face on the velvet-soft towel placed by the sink. The more I think about it, how could I believe it had really happened? That we were meant to have dinner with my parents, but instead of food and drinks, I received news of not being my mom’s daughter. Of course, it was a dream—a nightmare.
Even if I can’t remember going to sleep on the almost two-hour flight, that just proves how exhausted I must have been.
Shit, the lights make my head pound even harder.
Stumbling, I make my way to the cabin door, and I open it, looking around for Alec, Kas, and Coen. “Guys, I’m going to take a quick shower,” I yell, cringing at the sound of my voice, which doesn’t help my headache. I don’t see them anywhere, which is all sorts of confusing. Where the hell could they be?
“That’s fine, babe. We’re just talking with the pilot, so take your time.” Frowning at Kas’ answer, I shake my head. When did he start calling me babe? Ugh, in the grand scheme of everything going on, that’s hardly a valid concern. Maybe I heard wrong. It could have been Coen that answered me.
“I’ll bring you something to wear. We’re landing within forty-five minutes, so you need to be quick,” Alec calls just before I close the door and go take my shower.
As promised, clothes are waiting for me on the counter once I’m done with my shower. I heard the door open and close, but I didn’t wipe the steam away to see who came in here. “What the hell?” I sputter as I hold up a silver dress that looks like the one Luis gave me. I know it’s a coincidence since I never told them about the item of clothing, but even so, I loathe to wear it.
“Are you ready?” When I open the bathroom door, Coen shouts, reminding me of the deadline.
Rolling my eyes and huffing in annoyance, I slip on the black, lacy underwear, the silver dress, and the thigh-high boots from my dream. I’m immediately reminded of how much I enjoyed wearing something they had chosen for me. The memory makes any lingering annoyance and confusion evaporate. How can I refuse to wear something they’ve carefully selected?
My toilet bag and two white aspirins are next to where the clothes were neatly folded. Usually, I don’t like to take medication, but I have no such qualms right now with how badly my head is aching. As I swallow the two small pills, I can’t help feeling touched by how perceptive and caring my men are. They’re constantly proving to know precisely what I need, oftentimes before I even know it myself. Did I complain about a headache before I laid down to take a nap? Shit, why can’t I remember even needing to rest?
I know I have little time to get ready, so I quickly brush my hair before applying the bare minimum of makeup. A dash of concealer to hide the circles under my eyes, then mascara and eyeliner—that’s it. While applying my makeup, the pounding in my head lessens until it’s hardly noticeable.
“Ahh, wonder pills,” I sigh with a smile before bending down so I can bundle up the discarded clothes I was wearing when I woke up. The white t-shirt is so soft I almost miss wearing it. I can’t explain what compels me to look at the label, but I do.
“Hugo Boss?” I gasp. That’s an expensive brand for three guys that are putting every penny they earn toward Second Chances. Shaking my head, I softly laugh to myself. It could be Kas’, since I know he had to look presentable in his previous job. Maybe he received a staff discount or something.
As soon as I stand back up, I feel lightheaded. Unable to regain my balance, I sag against the sink. Opening my mouth, I try to call for Alec, Kas, or Coen to help me, but it’s no good. No words pass my lips as I open and close my mouth. All I manage is a squeaked sound that isn’t even close to resembling a word.
The door opens, and one of my guys comes into the bathroom—only the silhouette is all wrong. “I see you are ready.” The heavy German accent hits me like a freight train, and I try to scramble away, only to fall on my ass.
Still unable to form words, I make a weird hissing sound to let them know I’m severely unamused and confused.
Taking two steps toward me, the shadow says, “My darling Baby, we’ll have to work on your manners. This is not the greeting I expected.”
“It’s time to wake up, darling Baby.” The familiar voice and something foul-smelling have my eyelids fluttering, trying to open so I can see. “Don’t make me wait, I am not a patient man.” I try to obey the brusque words, but I can’t make my body move.
