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Thinking back to how Harry had protected him outside the plane earlier, Asher had to wonder if he’d do the same. Would he use his own body to protect Harry?
He honestly didn’t know.
The side of him that kept himself alive all these years would like to think no, that his own self-preservation was more important. But there was that creeping feeling, that heart-squeezing feeling, that part of Asher was sure he would. His instinct would be to protect Harry, at all costs.
No matter the price.
Somewhere in the last few days—between arguing and laughing, seeing how the man’s mind worked, sharing a bed with him, and the incredible sex—he’d grown feelings for Harry. Something akin to a weed had lodged itself in his chest and was beginning to sprout.
Asher had never had feelings for anyone before.
Not ever.
Much to his utter dismay, he liked Harry. He would protect him. He would fight for him.
For the first time in his life, Asher would now consider the thoughts and actions of someone else other than himself.
It was confusing, daunting, frightening.
It actually pissed Asher off.
Harry came back to his seat. “What time did we leave?”
“It was just on 6:00 pm, Algerian time.”
“And how long did they say the flight would take?”
“They didn’t, but I googled it. Six hours. Why?”
Harry held up his wrist, showing Asher his watch. “It’s after one in the morning, Algerian time. We’ve been flying for seven already. How much fuel does a plane this size have?”
Asher took out his phone and double checked the time. Harry was right. He stood up, tucked his pistol into the back of his jeans, and went to the cockpit door, this time standing a little further in. The pilot looked up at him, startled. Asher wasn’t smiling now. “Where are we landing?”
“Uh, an airstrip outside of Jeddah, as instructed.”
Saudi Arabia.
Why didn’t Asher believe him?
“Why is it taking so long?” Asher asked. The pilot hesitated to answer, so this time Asher asked again in Arabic.
“It’s not,” he said quickly. “Headwinds, perhaps? We have just enough fuel to get us to Saudi. We’re on time.”
“Hm.”
Asher went back to his seat. “I don’t believe him,” he said quietly to Harry. “Can you land a plane?”
Harry’s eyes went wide. “Uh, no. Why?”
“Because I’d very much like to shoot him.”
Harry smirked. “Let him get us on the ground first.” But without prompting, he took his other pistol from his backpack and tucked it in the back of his jeans.
The descent was normal. Asher heard the pilot talking about landing, which he assumed was all good and well. They had to speak to ground control, right?
The landing was fine. Bumpy, but fine. Outside was pitch black. It was the middle of the night in Saudi Arabia, after all. Asher could see faint runway lights, along with two sets of headlights, which he hoped was friendly. They would need a car, after all. The plane came to a slow stop, the lights in the cabin came on, and the pilot rushed out. He opened the door, lowered the steps, then, stepping out of their way, he gestured for them to disembark.
Asher wasn’t stupid. He looked to the pilot. “You first.”
