Sin City Lights (Sin City #1)
Chapter 24
93%
Adam
“Thank you, Jack.”
Adam gathered his flight bag and Rollaboard as the limo came to a stop in front of the Lark.
Jack nodded. “It’s good to have you back, sir.”
“It’s good to be back.”
Adam greeted the doorman as he entered the building, forcing his lips into a smile. Truth was, it wasn’t good to be back.
Eve was everywhere. The mere sight of the waterfall at the entrance reminded him of her. She’d loved to pause in front of it and watch the water rush down the rocks, letting the mist cool her face in the scorching Las Vegas sun.
Her sweet, pretty face.
He passed the 2024 fountain and the front desk, making his way toward the blue elevator, dreading the empty penthouse that awaited him. He didn’t relish the prospect of a Friday night alone. He guessed he would just have a quick bite and crash so he could be rested for the high roller flight to and from LA early tomorrow. It had been a long day, and he had gotten up at dawn to fly back from Alaska after another nearly sleepless night.
His phone buzzing had him shoving his hand in his pocket. Maybe…
Nope.
A text. No photo, and he didn’t recognize the number. He moved to delete the spam, but the message caught his eye.
Meet me in the lobby lounge. Back table by the window.
Eve? His heart began to thunder in his chest. Why the different number? She’d probably changed it after his repeated calls, all of which she hadn’t answered.
He turned to the bellhop. “Do me a favor, Craig, and take these up.”
“Of course, sir.”
Adam tipped the man, then passed him the flight bag and Rollaboard. With long, swift strides, he made his way toward the lounge, mind reeling.
Why hadn’t she just gone upstairs? She wasn’t ready, he guessed, but at least she wanted to talk. He’d take it. He’d gone over what he would say a hundred times and was sure he could be convincing.
Failure was not an option.
“Good evening, Mr. Larssen.”
“Myers.”
Adam looked past the server’s shoulder, searching. “Miss Layton is here?”
The young man’s brows furrowed. “Miss Layton? I haven’t seen her, sir. But I just started my shift, so maybe…”
He shrugged.
“Thanks, man. I’ll find her.”
“Is there anything I can get for you?”
“A smoked old fashioned sounds great.”
He hadn’t had one in a while.
“You got it.”
Myers stepped back with a curt nod.
Adam’s gaze drifted over the white leather sofas and chairs. Patrons packed the lobby lounge, their voices loud from alcohol and the excitement of a Friday night in Vegas. Not the best place for a talk, but perhaps he could persuade her to go up.
He made his way toward the back, chest getting tighter and tighter as he neared the bank of windows. His gaze cut from one table to another.
He glanced at his phone again. No new messages. He was about to give up and chalk it up to a wrong number when, at the very back, he spotted…
He halted in his tracks.
Well, I’ll be damned.
She sat there, elegantly sipping what looked like a cup of coffee, and instantly, he felt his breath catch, his hand tightening into a fist.
That delicate profile, that honey-blonde hair.
He hadn’t cared if he ever saw her again, yet here she was, wearing a short, low-cut black dress that perfectly showcased her willowy body.
She must have sensed his approach because she swiveled, immediately finding him, gray eyes fixing on his with an all-too-familiar disparaging look. But only for a moment because she quickly schooled her expression and smiled.
His jaw clenched. Somehow, he made his legs carry him to where she sat. “Hello, Ingrid.”
“Adam! Hvordan g?r det vennen?”
He almost laughed. “I’m doing very well…sweetheart,”
he retorted, tossing the term of endearment right back at her.
She hadn’t changed. Not on the inside, anyway, always saccharine-sweetly addressing him that way, her dulcet tone and tender words belying her actions.
On the outside, she wasn’t that much different either. She was still as beautiful as she’d been on their wedding day, undeniably so. The careful makeup helped too.
But the smile she gave him didn’t reach her gray eyes. “You look…different.”
“Do I?”
Her gaze swept over him with an expression he had never seen. His mouth curled into a smirk as he recognized it: heat.
No, he was no longer wiry and underweight. After she left, he’d sworn he would never be vulnerable again, physically or otherwise.
She motioned with a manicured hand to the armchair across from her. “Sit.”
Adam ignored her curt command and remained standing. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought we should talk.”
“Talk.”
He crossed his arms, looking down at her, brows furrowing slightly.
“Yes.”
She took a sip of coffee, which he would have bet his bottom dollar was Kafka because she always laced her afternoon java with vodka.
“After seven years, you show up and want to talk. What about?”
Oh, he had a good idea. But he wanted to hear it from her.
“Us.”
His eyebrows almost hit his hairline.
She noticed.
“Oh, come on, Adam.”
Now, she was doing her best to sound affable. “Sit with me. We do have so much to discuss.”
There had never really been an “us.”
Being with Eve had made that crystal clear to him. He had nothing to discuss with Ingrid except for his need for her to sign the goddamned papers. Had he known she would show up, he would have had Ian send them so he could have them at the ready in his flight bag.
“All right!”
Myers appeared with a tray. “I have your old fashioned for you, Mr. Larssen. With Old Fitzgerald, right?”
He smiled at the man. “You remembered.”
And he had forgotten entirely about Myers. Adam willed himself to relax, realizing he had no choice but to take the seat since he had ordered the cocktail. Come to think of it, he really could use the drink.
Ingrid looked on as the server artfully set a chunk of wood alight, then moved it with silver tongs and placed the lowball, mouth down, over the ember, letting the smoke curl from it to coat the glass.
“How is the coffee, Miss? Did I get the vodka right?”
The clear ice cube clinked as Myers placed it.
Yeah, thought so. Adam watched Ingrid sip her spiked coffee, willing to bet her sudden reappearance had everything to do with the summons and complaint published just last week in the Nevada Legal News.
Myers finished the old fashioned with a sliver of orange peel and a maraschino cherry, and Adam’s thoughts immediately went to Eve. He accepted the cut crystal glass and sipped, giving the server a nod of approval. “Thank you, Myers. Yours are always the best.”
That earned him a triumphant grin.
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
Myers cast a curious glance at Ingrid before turning to go, and Adam knew the tongues of the entire staff would soon be wagging.
He fixed his gaze on Ingrid, who was now looking at him with a cool, calculating expression. She clearly wanted something. Of that, he was certain. “Seven years is a long time, Ingrid.”
She nodded. “I’ve spent them in therapy.”
“Really.”
It wasn’t a question. Adam couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his tone, but he bit back the snark about what type of therapy she’d undergone.
“I was diagnosed with histrionic personality disorder and OCD.”
She leaned forward and placed her hand on his. “I’m doing really well, Adam.”
So, she had absolved herself of all wrongdoing and shifted the blame entirely to him. He had accepted a portion of it, which was why he’d continued supporting her financially. But he was damned if he would let her put it all on him.
Adam withdrew his hand from under hers. “You needed someone with a fancy degree to hold your hand and tell you that you shouldn’t fuck multiple men and women while your husband is out working? You don’t need seven years of therapy to reach that conclusion.”
Her eyes narrowed before she shifted her gaze to the table. “My therapist said to wait until I’m ready, and now, I am.”
“Ready for what?”
Good thing he had a drink. He took a big swallow.
“I want to fix us.”
It was a miracle he didn’t choke as the alcohol went down. “Fix us?”
“Yes.”
“What is there to fix?”
He searched her carefully guarded features. “Regardless of the cause, your actions resulted in a massive breach of trust. There’s no way to rebuild that. I’m not the same man I was seven years ago.”
Her eyes gleamed as they raked over his chest and down his arms. “No, you certainly are not.”
Once, he would have given anything to be on the receiving end of such a look from her. Now, all it did was irritate him and make him question her ulterior motive.
“The therapist said we should give it a try.”
What the hell?
“Give what a try?”
She gripped his wrist and held it tightly. “We were good together, Adam. Do you remember how it was?”
His eyes widened. He pulled out of her grasp, leaning back in his chair to gain much-needed distance. “I do. But your recollection and mine seem to differ substantially. And if you believe I spent seven years on standby for you and will jump right back in because you think you’re ready to be married again, you’re sorely misguided. It doesn’t work like that.”
Her lips curved into a knowing half-smile. “You haven’t been seeing anyone.”
He blinked. “According to whom?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. I know you’ve only been hiring escorts. While consistently making deposits into my account. Thank you for that, by the way.”
Unbelievable. She’d taken his generosity as some sort of hopeful pining.
“Tell me something.”
He kept his voice neutral, his gaze trained on her face. “Why do you suddenly want a committed relationship instead of continuing to have the freedom to see who you want, when you want?”
Her lips thinned, and she averted her gaze. “I don’t want a divorce.”
“You don’t want a divorce? Or you don’t want the payments to stop?”
She raised her chin. “You are about to make a fortune with that 2024 plane of yours.”
Ah, there it was. For some reason, he had a sudden urge to laugh. His mother had always said that if something can be resolved with money, thank your lucky stars, pay, and move on.
His lips curved into a humorless smile. “How much, Ingrid?”
She fixed him then, with that cold, unfeeling gray-eyed stare he remembered so well. “Meaning?”
Once, she could slice him with that stare. Not anymore. “How much will it take to get you to sign the divorce papers and finally put this thing out of its misery?”
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You aren’t getting an uncontested divorce.”
But he was getting a divorce, and that was all that mattered.
Adam’s heart kicked up in a victorious beat. “I’ll text you my attorney’s information.”
He tossed back the last of his old fashioned and surged to his feet with renewed energy. “Don’t worry about your tab. It’s on me.”
He gave her his most charming smile.
Time to say goodbye forever. “Farvel, Ingrid.”
**
“Lars 63, you’re cleared for takeoff.”
Adam placed his hand on the throttles.
Ted adjusted his headset. “Lars 63, cleared for takeoff.”
Adam advanced the throttles, and the G550 charged ahead, turbines whining, picking up speed.
“Eighty knots cross-check V1. Rotate. Positive rate.”
“Gear up.”
“Lars 63, contact departure.”
“Lars 63 to departure.”
Ted changed frequencies and cued the mic. “Las Vegas departure, Lars 63, checking in.”
Ted raised the gear, and Adam reached for the glare shield and engaged the autopilot button. “A thousand feet. Autopilot on. Flaps up. After-takeoff checklist.”
Adam surveyed the endless sky. It was good to be back in this cockpit. As much fun as flying in the wilderness had been, there was nothing like the rush of taking off in a twin jet. He was looking forward to lunch with Devon, who had joined them last-minute, replacing the flight attendant who had called in sick.
The plan was to pick up the fare from LAX, fly them to Vegas, and then go directly to Boulder City.
He smiled. Ingrid had agreed to get out of his life forever. Ian had paid her an ungodly sum, but Adam didn’t care. All he cared about was seeing Eve again and telling her he was now free.
The G550 swiftly ascended in the sky.
After a while, Ted checked the altimeter. “Ten thousand.”
Adam nodded. “Lights—”
BOOM!
The sound was deafening. The plane shuddered violently.
Ted’s eyes were saucers. “What was that?”
“Something hit us.”
“Shit! What?”
“I don’t know.”
Vibrations shook the aircraft.
“Autopilot,”
a robotic voice announced.
“Autopilot disconnected,”
Adam said.
Multiple lights came on, the yellow master caution light flashed, and beeping filled the cockpit.
Adrenaline shot through Adam’s body. Everything came into hyper-focus and began happening in slow motion.
His fingers tightened on the yoke as he tried with all his might to straighten it. “I’m hand flying. I can’t keep heading. Looks like we have a stuck aileron.”
“Oh my God!”
Ted’s hands shook, followed by his whole body. “Oh my God! We’re going to die!”
A vision of Eve’s sweet face floated before Adam’s eyes. “No. We’re not. Get it together, man. Grab the yoke and help me pull.”
Ted sat there gaping at the instruments, unseeing.
Adam felt the adrenaline course, hot, through his veins. “Ted!”
The air traffic controller’s voice came over the beeping, rattling, and whine of the engines. “Lars 63, you’re off course.”
“TED!”
Adam yelled louder.
He had to get back to Eve. Had to. “Call ATC and declare an emergency!”
Ted blinked. To Adam’s relief, he seemed to snap back and cued the mic. “Departure, Lars 63 is declaring an emergency. We believe something hit us. We cannot maintain heading.”
“Copy, Lars 63, you’re declaring an emergency. State souls on board, fuel, and intentions.”
“We have three souls on board, and we have three hours of fuel remaining, Lars 63. We’re trying to assess the damage. We’ll get back to you.”
He turned to Adam, eyes wide, face drained of color, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. “Captain, what do we have?”
Adam glanced at the artificial horizon. The plane was in a constant fifteen-degree bank. “Limited aileron ability to the left, elevator seems to be functional, so we can control altitude, engines operating in the green.”
Devon burst into the cockpit, radiating tension. “A glider hit us on the right side. We have damage to the trailing edge. We lost part of the winglet, the aileron is missing a chunk, and there’s damage to the flap.”
Shit.
Devon zoomed in on Ted’s pale face. “What’s going on up here? Ted, are you OK?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw Ted hunch over, clutching his solar plexus, his eyes glassy. “Chest. Pain.”
“Chest pain? You having a heart attack?”
Devon snapped.
“Angina. Happens. Sometimes I pass out.”
Ted pulled a small vial out of his shirt pocket and quickly placed a pill under his tongue.
What the hell? Ted had always turned in perfect yearly flight physicals.
It all made sense now. He’d found a crooked doctor to sign off so he could continue flying.
Fuck.
“Can you get out?”
Devin asked.
“I can try.”
“OK, go to the back and lie down. I’ve got this.”
He helped Ted exit the cockpit, then quickly slid into the right seat, putting on the headset. “All right, what do we have?”
Eve
“They have six kinds of coffee.”
Eve glanced over her shoulder at the young woman in dark blue scrubs, who, at the moment, was staring at the Keurig.
Eve found the brown bag and the box she sought, then shut the refrigerator door. “May I help you?”
“Please.”
“By the way, I’m Eve.”
“You’re the new receptionist. I’m new, too.”
The woman held out her hand. “Madeline.”
“Aka Dr. Mason,” Eve said.
She smiled. “Just call me Maddie.”
Eve smiled back. A talented physical therapist, Madeline had joined the practice a few days before Eve was hired to run the front desk at Optimum Therapy. Receptionist wasn’t the hands-on work she would have liked, but it was definitely a fresh start.
“What do you usually like? Dark roast, light roast, flavored?”
Maddie’s eyes widened in mock horror. “Please, God, not flavored.”
Eve laughed. “Not my favorite either. That narrows it down to the three from Green Mountain. Nantucket, Breakfast Blend, Dark Magic.”
“Which one do you like?”
“Dark Magic.”
“Let’s go with that.”
Eve plucked a pod from the dispenser carton.
Maddie took it and popped it into the Keurig. “I understand you’re working toward your undergrad degree?”
“Yes, at UNLV. I’m almost done.”
“Would you be interested in some other type of work? There’s an assistant spot opening next week, and they need it filled ASAP.”
“Who would I be assisting?”
Maddie added cream to her coffee. “Me. Much of it is paperwork, but you would also get some time with patients. I figured I would ask you before advertising the position to the public.”
Eve gave her a big smile. “I would be very interested.”
“Great! Come see me after closing. I’ll fill you in on the details, and we can talk a bit. See if it’s the right fit for you.”
“Will do.”
Well, this was an unexpected stroke of luck. Eve couldn’t wait to discuss the alternate position. It would be good to apply her training, and if the pay were better, that would be a plus.
Filled with renewed energy, Eve picked up the lunches and made her way back to the front, a spring in her step. Sensible shoes felt strange on her feet. Over the years, stilettos had become second nature, but they had no place in a physical therapy practice. She didn’t miss the discomfort, but she did miss the boost in height.
“Here you go, Kira.”
Eve took her seat, handing over the lunch bag.
“Thanks.”
Kira opened the bag, extracting a large roll wrapped in wax paper, her eyes tracking one of the male doctors as he sauntered to his office.
“He is so hot.”
She put the roll up to her lips. “Don’t you think?”
Eve busied herself with her bento box. “If you say so.”
Kira’s hazel eyes showed disbelief. “You don’t find him attractive?”
A vision of a perfect Nordic face flashed through her mind. “Not my type.”
Suddenly, from the break room, she heard chatter and unusually raised voices.
“Whoa, he’s circling the airport! Reminds me of one of those kids’ toys on a string!”
“That’s not an airline. What kind of plane is that?”
“One of those little ones.”
“That’s not so small, dude. That’s a private jet.”
“Turn it up!”
Eve frowned. “What’s going on out there?”
Kira shrugged. “Go see. I’ll cover here.”
The break room hummed with excitement, and more and more people were drifting in, their eyes glued to the back wall.
The flat TV was in split screen, a chyron with a red background scrolling at the bottom.
LIVE: PRIVATE JET EXPECTED TO CRASH AT LAS VEGAS AIRPORT.
Eve slowed her steps, her eyes riveted to the screen.
The anchor seemed exhilarated. “A shocking sight in the sky over Las Vegas. Trouble on a LarsAir passenger flight minutes after takeoff.”
Eve froze.
The anchor continued, eyeing a monitor on her desk. “The airline says the Gulfstream was on its way to Los Angeles and was forced to return to Las Vegas Airport. It hasn’t landed but has been circling for over two hours. Here to shed some light on what could be going on up there is Jonathan Summers, an aviation expert. Jonathan?”
The gray-haired man nodded, his face somber. “Andrea, from what I can tell, the plane may have been struck by something and suffered some sort of structural damage.”
Andrea’s brows lifted. “Why the circling? If you’re flying that plane, you want to get it back on the ground as quickly as possible, right?”
“That is correct. But the pilot needs to burn off fuel, so it will be a while before he can attempt to put it down.”
“Why burn off the fuel?”
“Because this will be a crash landing that could be catastrophic. In case of a rollover, he needs to have the least combustible in those tanks. He doesn’t want it to become a fireball on impact.”
Heart in her throat, Eve stared at the screen, trying to make out the numbers on the tail.
It couldn’t be the G550.
It couldn’t be Adam up there, could it? Had he returned?
Andrea touched her earbud. “This just in. We have exclusive ATC audio provided by AirWatchers. Let’s listen to the pilot declaring the emergency.”
Please don’t let it be him.
Eve held her breath.
“Departure, Lars 63 is declaring an emergency. We believe something hit us. We cannot maintain heading.”
Ted’s unmistakable accent. Her shoulders sagged with relief. Her knees wobbled, and she leaned against a table because all the chairs were already taken with eager viewers who, to her disgust, were enjoying this.
The chatter in the break room grew louder.
“Quiet, guys,”
someone said. “I can’t hear what she’s saying.”
“It’s coming around again. The airport has been shut down until his plane can land. They think it will be soon. He has been circling for a little over two hours. And here it comes!”
The camera zoomed in, the tail number came into clear view, and Eve felt a sheet of ice slide over her.
N576LA.
The G550.
That G550.
But she had heard Ted’s voice, not Adam’s.
Adam was away. He couldn’t be up there.
The cameras switched to a closeup of Andrea. “We have attempted to contact the CEO of LarsAir for comment but were informed that he is the one piloting the plane.”
No.
No, no.
“We are attempting to locate someone else at the company to come on with us and comment.”
“This will be an extremely difficult landing. It could be unsurvivable,”
she heard the expert declare with conviction.
Oh my God.
“It would take a very talented pilot to—”
Heart in her throat, head spinning, Eve managed to stumble out of the break room. In the hallway, she broke into a run, nearly crashing into an ultrasound cart.
Kira’s brows shot up. “What’s going on?”
Eve snatched her purse off her desk.
“I have to go.”
?
“Stay tuned for continuing coverage of the dramatic situation at Las Vegas Airport, where a LarsAir—”
Eve switched off the radio. They were talking only gloom and doom, and she was already shaking from the stress. Traffic was light, but every signal she approached seemed to turn red just as she got there, and by the time she reached Lars, her palms were wet, and she was ready to scream.
Turning into the parking lot, she spotted Ian walking across in long, swift strides.
Eve shoved the gearshift into park. She rushed out of her Subaru and slammed the door behind her, not bothering to lock it.
“Ian!”
Ian looked up and halted. His eyes widened.
She rushed toward him, heart in her throat. “You going there?”
He nodded, pointing to the blue-and-white LarsAir courtesy vehicle. She darted to the Mercedes and scrambled into the passenger seat.
He slid behind the wheel, and they were off in seconds. Eve clicked her seat belt.
No time for pleasantries. “Do you know anything?”
He shook his head.
She swallowed and pressed her clenched fist to her mouth, trying to quell the panic.
Ian looked over at her. “He will be glad to see you.”
His voice was calm. It helped a little.
“Tell me it’s going to be OK.”
She needed him to say it.
Ian was somber. “He’s a great pilot, Eve. If anyone can bring that plane down safely, it’s my brother.”
He seemed convinced. She nodded.
Please be right, Ian. Please, be right.
Adam
“What do we have?”
“We do have engines, we can go up and down, and we can turn left. With almost full rudder deflection and some asymmetric thrust, I can keep heading,”
Adam told Devon.
“What don’t we have?”
Adam used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his brow. “No ability to turn to the right, no flaps. I didn’t cycle the gear. That’s still unknown.”
This was when Devon’s talent as a pilot and his ability to keep cool under pressure were invaluable.
Devon nodded. “How do we get this bird down in one piece?”
Adam fought the yoke, thankful for all those hours lifting in the gym. “We try to line up for a ten-mile final at least. We don’t have flaps, so shallow approach. Keep speed up so we don’t stall.”
He hoped that would work. The only time he’d cross-controlled an airplane was when he’d slipped Betty for a steep approach or flew one of the bush planes. “Opposite rudder on this thing is making me a little nervous.”
Devon frowned. “That makes two of us, but I like the plan.”
“We’re very light. Reference speed with full flaps would be 115 knots. Add twenty for no flaps and five for the slip; we should look for 140 over the fence. Cycle the gear now. We don’t want surprises.”
He waited, maintaining full force on the yoke while Devon tried to lower the gear. He felt the rumble, and his stomach dipped with relief.
“Gear down, three green,”
Devon said.
“Thank goodness for small favors. OK, call approach.”
“Vegas approach, Lars 63, stating intentions.”
“Lars 63, go ahead.”
“Lars 63 will line up for runway 8 left, ten miles out. We do have three greens and no flaps, so we’ll come in a little hot.”
“Lars 63, you are cleared for approach to any runway, contact tower on one-one-niner decimal niner. Good luck.”
“Thank you for all your help, to tower, Lars 63. Tower, Lars 63 with you, lining up for 8 left.”
“Lars 63 Las Vegas tower, you have the airport and you are cleared to land, emergency equipment standing by.”
Adam started a shallow turn to the left while keeping an eye on the airport.
Devon scanned the instruments. “I’ll call the speeds. Let me know what you need on the throttles.”
“OK, we’re coming about, on heading pull back 10 percent on the right and 5 on the left.”
They started their descent.
Devon pulled back the throttles, maintaining speed and altitude. The stricken bird was actually flying a stabilized approach.
“We’re drifting left. Give me 5 percent more on the left engine,”
Adam said.
Devon complied.
“That’s good.”
“One…hundred,”
the robotic voice of the radar altimeter announced.
Adam swallowed hard. “Here we go. When we get in ground effect, go to idle.”
The G550 crossed the numbers.
“Engines to idle,”
Devon announced.
“Fifty…forty…thirty…”
the voice counted down.
Adam gripped the yoke tighter. The runway seemed to rush up to meet him.
Hold her steady.
Eve’s beautiful face flashed before his eyes. He thought he heard Devon mutter a prayer.
“Twenty…ten…”
Deafening impact with the ground.
It jolted Adam’s spine and threw them in their seats.
But, somehow, the tires held, and the G550 hurtled down the runway, screaming.
They had landed.
Eve
Ian stopped the car just short of the mangled plane. Eve threw open the door and ran out. At first, she saw nothing but the fire trucks blocking her view.
Heart in her throat, she rushed to the other side and finally spotted Adam, shirt wrinkled, brow damp, sitting at the back of an open ambulance. An EMT peeled a blood pressure cuff off his bicep. Another two loaded someone on a gurney.
She halted a few feet away, her heart fluttering at the sight of him.
And then, his beautiful blue eyes found her.
For a moment, she felt as if she’d been electrocuted.
He stood and spoke to the EMT and nodded at Ian, who clapped him on the back, but his gaze remained on Eve.
He motioned toward the man on the stretcher, who she realized was Ted. “Thank you. I’m fine. Take care of him.”
Eve gulped back the painful lump rising in her throat. Oh God, he was alive…
Beside Adam, Devon leaned down to place a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be OK.”
“I shouldn’t have hidden my heart condition from you. I almost caused—”
“Get better,”
Devon tersely interrupted, his features frozen in a stony mask.
The EMTs loaded Ted into the waiting ambulance, leaving Devon glowering, shaking his head, and passing a hand over his face.
“Great air show,”
Ian said, grinning. “Not too bad of a landing.”
Eve looked at Adam. Emotions played on his handsome face as his penetrating gaze searched hers. At last, she saw his lips curve upward, and heat flared in his eyes.
She sprinted to him, arms outstretched, then stopped a step away, suddenly uncertain. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m sweaty,”
he warned her gravely.
“I don’t care.”
With a little sob, she launched herself into his arms, gripping him around the neck, and Adam crushed her to him, taking her mouth as she had longed for him to do for so, so long.
Too soon, he broke the kiss, then held her at arm’s length as if convincing himself that she was really there.
“Eve…”
His voice… His beautiful, deep, seductive voice. She’d thought she might never hear it again.
Her eyes began to sting, and hot tears welled.
He cupped her cheek. “Baby,”
he murmured, “I’m OK.”
He’d never called her that.
Eve’s chest seized, and she lost it.
Great, heaving spasms racked her chest, and she began to cry in earnest, huge sobs that had her shoulders shaking with the force of them. The weeks of longing, the hours of fear and panic, her love for him suddenly ripped her open, and she cried out her relief in his strong arms.
Adam just held her tightly, swaying, cradling the back of her head, pressing her to his chest. She inhaled deeply of his familiar scent, taking him in, unable to get enough.
At last, she took a shuddering breath and rubbed her face into his shirt, now wet with tears. With a sniffle and a deep inhale, she leaned away to cradle his face between her hands.
“I thought I’d lose you. I thought you were going to—”
She couldn’t say it. “Oh my God.”
The sight of those deep sapphire eyes brought fresh tears to her own. She sniffed again.
“No way.”
He turned his head to kiss her palm. “While I was up there, the only thing I thought of was coming back to you.”
“Adam…”
Her love for him stirred powerfully in her entire being, and she slipped her fingers upward, threading them through his damp hair. Again, she kissed him with everything she felt.
He was alive. He was here. She loved him.
Her hands trailed down over his epaulets, then to his upper arms. “I love you,”
she whispered against his lips.
His biceps grew rock-hard under her hands. After a beat, he tenderly kissed her forehead. “I love you too.”
She couldn’t believe he’d said it, but he had. Her heart fluttered with elation; her throat pinched with regret.
“I messed up.”
She gulped. “I am so sorry.”
His exhale fanned her cheek. “Don’t be sorry.”
“But I—”
“Shh.”
He placed his index finger gently on her lips. “I messed up too. We’re even. It’s behind us.”
She sought his gaze, needing the reassurance.
The love shone there; she saw it clearly, and Eve felt such relief that she went limp against him.
Now was not the time for discussion. He had to be exhausted.
He took her hand, his warm grip strong and sure. “You’re coming home with me.”