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Kita’s smile turned sad. “I really did.” Her fingers traced his lips and rested on his chin. “I thought about finding you. I had the resources.”
He wiggled his brows. “Did you now?”
“But I couldn’t.” She looked away. “I was worried you’d be mad at me.”
Kevlar’s heart squeezed. “I admit, I was mad but not because I stopped caring for you.” He gently tilted up her chin and pressed his lips to it. “I was hurt. I didn’t know if you decided we couldn’t be together or what.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I never thought that.” She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his. “The opposite actually.”
“I looked for you, though, Kita.” He had to tell her the truth. Too much time had passed without her knowing his feelings. “Off and on. Mostly before I was deployed. The Army kept me busy. It was a blessing in disguise honestly. Took my mind off you and how much I missed you.”
She let out a strangled sigh and grazed his lips. His pulse soared the longer their mouths intertwined. She never tasted better. Cupping the base of her neck, he lightly nipped her top lip then the bottom.
“We should get inside. Our flight leaves in an hour.”
Regretfully, they left the car, taking their carry-on bags with them. After going through security, Kevlar waited near their gate, eyes darting to where Kita ordered two coffees for the plane ride to Colorado. She was third in line, a family of tourists and a businessman ahead of her.
When his phone vibrated, he dug it out of his pocket.
Rubble: You on your way back?
Kevlar: Yep, boarding soon. Everything good there?
Bubbles popped up on the other end then disappeared. He lifted his gaze and noticed Kita paying, adding a five-dollar bill to the tip jar.
A loud buzz brought his attention back to the phone in his hands.
Rubble: So far. Watching Cutthroats now. They’re acting shadier than normal. Klink saw them take a backroad up the mountains. I’ll bet they dumped the doll’s body. Sheriff hasn’t found anything yet.
He cringed at the thought. There were too many hiding places in the mountains to dispose of a body, especially when no one else would be looking for the woman.
Kevlar: Shit. Not good. Be back ASAP.
Rubble: Keep an eye on that girl of yours. I have a feeling she may be in trouble.
He put away the phone, pumping his leg up and down. A noise from the coffee shop caught his attention, and he glanced toward it. He couldn’t find Kita. Immediately, he stood, panic lining his gut. By now, Diablos knew of their visit. If the MC didn’t like what went down, they might retaliate regardless of their president’s wishes.
Standing, he walked toward the last spot she stood. “Kita?”
He picked up his pace, rounding the shop. His heart skipped at what he saw. Kita was inside one of the touristy airport stores, perusing the knickknacks. Resting his back to the coffee shop wall, he swore. His nerves were getting the better of him. Every time she left his sight, he worried about her. It wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t help it.
“Hey, I found these cute little key chains.” She held up the Statue of Liberty pin-up dolls. “Mandi’s going to love it.” She grinned and handed him a cup of coffee.
Lifting it to his nose, he inhaled the heady scent of caramel macchiato. If any of his Macha brothers asked, he’d deny specifically requesting it with extra caramel.
“Did you want a souvenir?”
He shook his head and sipped the coffee. “Nah, I’m happy with you.”
“I’m not a souvenir.” She bopped him on the nose and walked by, her jasmine perfume filling his nose and reminding him exactly why he couldn’t walk by a flower shop without thinking of her.
“You’re one to me.” He looped his arm around her shoulders. “But I swear I’ll never toss you in a junk drawer like all my other souvenirs.”
Her light laughter drifted through the airport terminal. It calmed him more with each step.
“Ladies and gentlemen, flight 783 to Denver has been delayed two hours.” The voice over the speaker repeated the bad news in three more languages before looping.
“Sounds like we’re stuck here for a while.” Kita plopped into an open seat, propping her boots on the divider between chairs. “What ever shall we do?” She sipped her coffee, amber eyes like beacons to him through a storm.
