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“Key word…”
“Alive.”
Her frown remained, along with her hand in his. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good. You have a few minutes left before we land. Then I’ll need your decision. Whether you go with us or someone else, you can’t wander around alone. Unless you’re looking for a way to die.”
Chapter 4
Breely sat back in her seat, feeling a little weight lift off her chest. Running away from home at twenty-eight years old might have seemed silly to anyone else.
To her, it had been terrifying. She’d grown up sheltered to the point of living in a very tight cocoon. The freedom of being her own person without having to answer to anyone had been heady and welcome.
She’d learned a lot about freedom she hadn’t realized before.
Foremost, she’d learned a person was never truly free. She had to answer to others no matter what she did. As a waitress, she’d had to answer to her boss, the customers and herself.
Doing what was right wasn’t always easy. Living out from under her parents’ oppressive desire to keep her safe wasn’t the answer. Running away might not have been the right answer. All she knew was that she needed to make her own decisions. Live her own life.
But, after nearly being kidnapped, maybe she needed a little help to keep from costing her father a huge ransom. She knew he’d pay it.
It chapped her ass that she had to have help. As long as her parents were billionaires, she’d be a target. Her father would have to publicly relinquish every last cent and control of his many corporations before his family was free. She’d been kidding herself to think she might escape the noose of wealth. “I just want to blend into society, to be a regular Joe.”
Moe smiled. “You could never be a regular Joe. And Breely suits you and your flaming hair.”
She lifted a hand to her curls. “I should dye it. I’m sure it’s not helping me stay hidden from kidnappers and the paparazzi.” Memories flooded her thoughts. “Ever since I spent time with my grandmother, who had the same red hair, I’ve been proud of my legacy. Now…” She pulled on a strand. “Maybe I should shave it off. Anything to make myself invisible.”
“Shaving off your hair will make you stand out even more than the red hair.” Moe’s gaze swept over head and face. “Don’t do it. Your hair is beautiful.”
Though her chest and cheeks warmed at the compliment, Breely shook her head. “If I don’t shave it off or dye it pink, I need to buy a wig or hat and keep it covered. It’s a dead giveaway.”
“If you must hide it for the short term, a hat can be easily undone. More so than pink dye or a buzz cut.” He glanced at the map on the control panel. “We’ll be landing soon. I have a hat stashed in the back of your seat. Transporting organs can sometimes involve journalists looking for a story on a slow-news night.”
“Seriously?” Breely shook her head.
“Catching a photo of a multi-billionaire’s daughter stepping off a plane in Denver might be considered more newsworthy than saving lives with organ transplants.”
“Sadly, true,” Breely agreed. She unbuckled her seat harness and got up on her knees in her seat to reach into the pocket on the back.
Moe received instructions from Denver ATC to establish a flight path for landing at the Denver International Airport.
Breely had her hand in the seat’s pocket, looking for the hat Moe had offered when the plane suddenly lurched and dropped.
Thrown off balance, Breely tipped sideways and fell into Moe’s lap, hitting the yoke and sending the plane sideways.
When she tried to get up out of Moe’s way, he ordered, “Stay still until I right the plane.” With one hand on her ass, Moe pulled her hip away from the yoke, pressing her body firmly against his. Then he extricated his other arm from beneath her, grabbed the yoke and eased the plane back on course.
Breely’s heart pounded against her ribs. Cradled in Moe’s arms, her breasts smashed to his chest, her cheek pressed to his neck, and she couldn’t decide if it was fear or desire making her breathing and pulse erratic. “I’m sorry.”
He chuckled. “Can’t say that I am.” He winked. “I’ve never flown with a beautiful woman draped across my lap.”
Knowing she should move back to her seat, she hesitated, loving how warm and solid he was. The man wasn’t a hulking, muscle-bound guy. What he was, however, was compact, wiry and strong, based on how he held her entire body tightly against his with only one arm.
The Denver ATC jolted Breely out of her lusty stupor, giving Moe instructions to turn and establish his flight path to a runway.
His mouth twitched. “Much as I like this, I need both hands to land.”
“Right. I’ll just…” Breely pushed her hand against his thigh, her fingertips brushing against the hard ridge beneath the fly of his jeans. Her breath caught.
