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Now freed, I can see Piper’s arms are folded across her stomach protectively. She uncrosses them quickly and stands up. “So do you believe me?”
She walks around the table, and I grab her by the arm and haul her against my body.
“Fuck no.”Maybe yes.But I need to keep my friends close and my enemies closer, and I’m still on the fence about where she ranks between the two. It’s best to make sure she doesn’t know she has valid points—or that I’m unable tonotconsider them.
“Then—” Her chest heaves against mine. I fight the urge to look down the front of her shirt. “Then what are you doing?”
I don’t know.
There is no rulebook for this. No plan.
All I have is a lifetime of experience and my instincts. And right now, my instinct is to keep Piper as close as humanly possible.
“Move.” I push her towards the door. “We have a plane to catch.”
10
PIPER
I wake up to a muffled voice and darkness.
Then light slices through my eyelids like a knife. I wince, covering my eyes with my arm.
“Rise and shine, princess,” Timofey croons in my ear. “We’re about to land.”
I blink slowly and glance over to him. He’s sitting in the seat next to me.Of course he is.His clothes seem completely unruffled after our ten hours of travel, but his eyes are bloodshot.
I don’t even want to guess what I look like.
The pilot’s voice crackles over the intercom, but my high school Spanish is limited to “Donde está el baño?”,and even that is shaky some days. Point is, I have no idea what he’s saying.
“I fell asleep.” Good Lord, my mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton balls.
“Lying really takes the energy right out of you.” It almost sounds like he’s joking, but I know better. I think.
I take in his appearance again. His clothes are pressed and flawless, but the rest of him isn’t. The bags under his eyes are heavy enough to classify as carry-ons, and I don’t think the redness is from lack of sleep. When I speak, my words slur because my mouth is dry as hell. But whenhespeaks, his words melt on the warm breeze of some first-class tequila. And he’s slouching. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this mountain of a man slouch.
“Are you drunk?” I blurt in shock.
A flight attendant clears her throat and hands me a covered plate. “Pancakes and orange juice, ma’am.”
Pancakes have always been my favorite breakfast food. Right now, the sight of them makes me want to vomit. I take the plate anyway because I’m not rude. “Thank you.”
Timofey waves her off and turns his bleary glare to the window.
As soon as she’s gone, I lean in. “Are you drunk?” This time, I whisper the question.
He snorts. “Go ahead and ask the attendant for a pen. You can make note of it in your CPS report.”
I bite my tongue and exhale my frustration. If the wooziness of his enunciation is any sign, he must have started drinking the moment the plane took off. Right after I fell asleep.
I thought maybe I’d be able to surprise Timofey in Mexico and tell him the truth. Now, I’m not sure what I’m going to do. A drunk Timofey is even less likely to listen to me than a sober one.
“I’m not worried about the stupid report, Timofey.”
I’m worried aboutyou.
But those words stay buried deep down inside.
