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“Hold on,” Ry ordered. Handbrake on and turning the wheel to the right, we took the corner sideways in a perfect drift. But where I was expecting him to speed up again, to zigzag through traffic on a mad rush to the airport, Ry slowed down, not even overtaking the slow-as-fuck bus in front of us.
Police cars careened past us only a few seconds later, and I swallowed hard.
That was close—too fucking close, if I was being honest.
I closed my eyes, thanking my lucky stars that we’d managed to get out of there without even a graze. Bloody security guard needed his head read. He could have killed one of us. It was a museum, for fuck’s sake, not an actual bank. It wasn’t like we were holding anyone up, waving guns around ourselves. What a dickhead.
Flynn’s grip on my neck eased, and he loosened my bun before running his fingers through my ponytail. He couldn’t disguise the shake in his hands or the wobble in his voice when he asked Ry how far away the airport was.
“Only about ten minutes. We’ll be in the air within the hour.”
“Why not straight away?” I asked curiously, sitting up. There had never been any delays previously.
“Put your seatbelt on.” Flynn reached over and grasped the belt, pulling it across my body and clicking it into place.
Ryder shot me a look over his shoulder. It was dark, a warning not to argue with him. “Because I need to file a flight plan and get permission to take off. Sydney airport is crowded airspace.”
“Oh.” I swallowed, looking between them. Ry looked murderous, anger rolling off him in waves. I was surprised I couldn’t hear him grinding his teeth, given the tight set of his jaw. He was tense, his muscles coiled and ready to strike.
Flynn, on the other hand, was pale, his lips drawn into a frown and his eyes a dark flint rather than their normally vibrant blue. He’d let go of me, clasping his hands in his lap and turning away from me when I tried to smile my reassurance.
I’d put them in danger. This was why I’d wanted to go inside by myself. If I’d insisted on it, if I’d put my foot down and dropped Flynn off before even coming to Sydney, this would never have happened. I could have sent Ryder away for a coffee after having him drop me off down the street, and then I could have walked to the building. He would never have even known about this. Instead, I’d relented. I’d let them be all protective and sweet.
But I didn’t need protecting, especially if it meant them getting hurt.
I was perfectly capable of doing this myself. Gripping the handle of my laptop bag tighter, I steeled my spine. I would do this myself. The data I was holding had the power to exonerate my mother. It was priceless.
My lips curled up in a cold smile. My professorhole wouldn’t know what hit him.
Ryder closed and locked the plane door as I flopped into the closest of the comfortable armchairs. I was riding a high, knowing I held the key to destroying this pathetic excuse of a podcast in my hands. I’d prove the professor wrong. I’d show him that he was barking up the wrong fucking tree. Then, once I’d done that, maybe he wouldn’t be such a little bitch and he’d fuck me again.
Bastard. He shouldn’t have left.
“Stand up,” Ry ordered, his voice hard.
“Excuse me?” I blinked, my eyes wide in surprise.
“Stand up, Zali. Don’t push me.” His voice was a growl, menacing and leaving no room for dissent.
I huffed out a disbelieving laugh. Who did he think he was dealing with? But I was in the mood to humour him—he had, after all, just driven the getaway vehicle. I stood up, holding my arms out with my palms up. “And what, pray tell, do you need me standing for?”
“This,” he uttered as he gripped the waist of my leather pants, tugging the button open and unzipping them.
I laughed, excitement curling low in my belly at the heat in his eyes. Maybe this time Ryder and I would give Flynn a show. My cunt throbbed, the thought of getting off after the excitement of the afternoon as tempting as a hit to an addict. “Mmm….” I flicked open the buttons on my shirt as Ryder roughly tugged my leather pants and panties down.
The look in Flynn’s eyes—desire heating them with a heady mix of anger and adrenaline—was an aphrodisiac. His lips were pressed into a hard line, and his hands were balled into fists. If he unleashed, he’d be rough as fuck with me.
Boy, was I down for it.
Ryder breathed deep. “You’re fucking gagging for it, aren’t you?”
“You gonna fuck me?” I taunted, lifting my chin up as I let my shirt slide to the floor. I unclasped my bra and tossed it aside, standing nearly naked in front of him. I had one hand on my hip, the other plucking my nipple, waiting for him to make a move.
His responding laugh was cold, and a tendril of fear snaked down my spine, the resulting throb in my cunt sending a gush of wetness through me as he said, “No.”
Moving lightning fast, he grasped my wrists and pressed them together, his fingers easily encircling them. He reached out for Flynn, and my boyfriend complied without question, handing him my bra. They were on the same wavelength, and it was hot as fuck.
He bound my wrists, wrapping my bra around them tightly enough to stop me from being able to break free. I tested the give and found very little. “If your hands start to turn blue, I want to know. Otherwise, you only speak as I direct. Got it?”
