Chapter 3
Three
I seized the day, but I forgot to lift with my knees, so I also seized my back.
—Dru’s secret thoughts
DRU
I dropped my car off at the rental agency and hoofed it inside, hoping that I would make it on time and knowing I probably wouldn’t.
I didn’t know what I was thinking driving around that long, angry beyond belief. But since I had, I was now possibly going to miss my flight.
I had a little over fifteen minutes until the plane boarded, and I still had to get through security.
When I saw the security line, however, I knew that not even TSA Pre-Check would get me through in time for takeoff.
I got in line anyway, hoping beyond hope that it would work.
I got behind a man dressed in a suit and shifted restlessly from foot to foot.
The man in front of me muttered a few things and pulled out his phone.
He typed angrily at it before shoving it back into his pocket.
Some sort of commotion from my side had me glancing over to see that the lines to the right of us were shutting down, a confused look on all of the TSA employees’ faces as they looked at their computers dumbfounded.
Our line, however, didn’t stop.
It went better than ever because since the other lines had stopped feeding into it, ours could start filtering through one after another with no other passengers’ things clogging up the belts.
When we’d made it through, the man in front of me reached into his pocket again for his phone.
I only noticed this because he had a tattooed hand and it was tapping away at his phone so hard that it was drawing my attention.
Just as he shoved his phone back into his pocket, the lines behind us started to work, and there was a shout of joy and excitement as people started moving again.
I followed the man toward the same gate, and he sat down at the very corner of the gate area while I went up to the worker and smiled at her hopefully.
She barely glanced up as she said, “Can I help you?”
“Hi.” I smiled what I hoped was my most charming smile. “Do you, possibly, have an upgrade available to first class?”
Because the thought of sitting next to someone for the next few hours on both sides sounded like the worst thing possible right now.
Not that I couldn’t think of worse things, but I was all peopled out.
The attendant behind the desk gave me an up and down before saying, “Sorry, no.”
She hadn’t even looked.
“I don’t mind paying,” I pleaded, allowing some of my desperateness to bleed into my words. “I’ve had a really bad day, and I could really use a bre…”
“I said no,” she snapped. “Please leave.”
I left, feeling dejected, and somehow knowing if I pushed it even a little, she might just go ahead and cancel my seat on the plane completely.
I sat down, choosing to follow the man from earlier to the very corner of the room and put my headphones on.
Thankful for the noise-canceling headphones, I pulled up my Creed playlist and stared at the screen beside the rude woman’s head and counted down the minutes until I could board.
When my group was finally called, I got up and headed for the door, still not taking my headphones off.
When I said I was peopled out, that included the flight attendants and the rest of the people in between me and my seat.
Except, when I got to my seat, a man was sitting in it who looked way pissed off.
He was wearing a suit and looked fit to be tied to find himself in coach.
I slipped my headphones off and let them rest around my neck while I looked up to find a flight attendant to flag down for help.
Since I was one of the last ones on, it was easy to get back to the front where they were all congregating.
“Um, excuse me.” I gave the best smile I could muster up, which admittedly wasn’t all that big, and said, “Someone’s in my seat.”
The woman in the front nodded as she reached for my ticket. “I’ll bet you’re the one.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“A man was bumped from first class to coach and a woman in the back of the plane was bumped to first. It was a computer glitch, but there’s nothing we can do about it now. Caused a huge commotion earlier. Be grateful you weren’t on to hear it. You’re in 1A.”
I blinked.
“Um, really?”
She smiled softly at me before saying, “Really. Now, have a seat. You’re the last passenger that needs to get settled.”
I did as she asked, moving to the first-class seat she’d directed me to.
I stowed my carry-on in the bin above my head, then took a seat next to a man that I barely glanced at until I’d tightened my seat belt.
Even then, I only glanced at him when the flight attendant leaned so far over me to reach him that the man’s junk was practically in my face.
I leaned as far back as I could, which wasn’t much, and prayed his dick didn’t touch my chin with how he was leaning.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” the flight attendant asked coyly.
“You can give the woman some space.”
That voice.
I’d heard it a couple of hours ago at the table behind me.
How…
I whipped my head around to confirm who it was that I heard and found blue eyes aimed at me.
There was no emotion in them, making me realize he didn’t recognize me, but it was most definitely him.
He was still wearing the same suit, sans jacket. His tie wasn’t tied, either. It was stuffed in his pocket and his first four shirt buttons were undone, giving him a disheveled look that was edged with exhaustion.
I looked away, but not before I smiled at him in thanks before turning back around to see that the man’s dick was still right there.
Jesus.
I leaned toward the man at my side, who didn’t seem to mind, and said, “Uhhh.”
“Personal space is a real thing,” the sexy man at my side grumbled darkly. “And you should probably learn to respect it.”
“Oh, sorry,” the male flight attendant apologized. “I didn’t see you there.”
Sure, he didn’t.
He stepped away, allowing me room to breathe, and the ability to return to my own space so I wasn’t invading the man’s space beside me.
“What’s wrong?” the man at my side said.
At first I thought he was speaking to me, but when I turned to look at him, he was looking out of the window and studying the tarmac with his phone to his ear.
“I can’t do anything for a couple of hours while I fly home,” he said. “No, it’s never stopped me before, you’re right. But not this time.” He paused. “Yes, next to someone.” He chuckled. “Thanks, man.” He cleared his throat. “Why are you calling me Finnian all of a sudden, anyway?”
Finnian.
Was that the man’s name?
It fit well.
I could definitely see him being a Finnian.
It was distinguished and befitting a sexy older man with his salt and pepper hair on top of his head and his neatly trimmed beard.
That was the only thing that screamed “nice” about the man, though.
Being a charge nurse at a hospital, and spending eight of my twelve-year nursing career in the emergency room before moving away from the chaos, I came upon all walks of life.
I’d seen nice men dressed badly. I’d seen bad men dressed nicely.
I’d seen just normal men dressed casually and comfortably.
But this man at my side definitely screamed dangerous to me.
As in, stay away.
His tattoos spoke a story of his life, and the darkness I saw in all of them made me pause.
But it was the outline in neon pink of a skull with a hood on the man’s hand that made me realize he was dangerous.
Because I knew that symbol.
Everyone in Dallas did.
The man next to me was a Truth Teller.
I worked with one of those, and he scared the absolute shit out of me.
His wife also worked on our floor, and every time I saw them together it gave me the feeling of watching a lion standing next to a lamb.
That lamb had to be absolutely crazy to get so close to someone so dangerous.
Yet, Aella was the sweetest, most competent person I’d ever met, and she had a great head on her shoulders.
When he wanted to be, Chevy, Aella’s husband, also was fairly nice. But only when Aella was around. When she wasn’t, he was distant, closed off, and scary. Or, scarier.
But they all had that tattoo on their hand.
There was no denying who they belonged to.
I felt my mouth get dry as I looked away from the man who was still talking on the phone, then slipped my headphones back into place and closed my eyes.
I kept them on through takeoff, but ended up having to take them off shortly after because the male flight attendant from earlier touched my shoulder.
I opened my eyes and made eye contact with him.
He looked at me expectantly and I took my headphones off to say, “I’m sorry.”
“Chicken parmesan or Greek salad?”
Was that even a question?
“Chicken parmesan.” I smiled.
“To drink?”
I was scared to ask what my options were because he looked fit to be tied and angry.
“Um, do you have Dr Pepper?” I asked hopefully.
Because that was the only acceptable option right now.
“We’re out,” he denied.
“She can have mine,” the man at my side said. “I’ll take a Coke.”
I looked at him with a soft smile. “Oh, that’s okay. I can just have wa…”
“I can go to the back and check to see if they have any,” the flight attendant offered, cutting me off.
He moved then, heading to the people on my right.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
“It’s no problem,” he murmured quietly, his voice deep and raspy.
I glanced over at him with a small smile before saying, “I’m not a huge fan of anything but Dr Pepper. Water’s meh.”
He nodded. “I’m sure your kidneys love that.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I can’t say that they’re too happy about it, but my heart is.”
He had nothing to say to that, so I turned back around and started to slip my headphones back on, but his next words stopped me.
“What’s your name?”
I bit my lip, realizing that I was crazy because I was about to give a strange man my name whom I knew was a bad guy.
“Uh, Dru. Drusilla Rossi.”
His brows rose. “You have a mouthful with that name. Family name?”
“Crazy mom who liked to name her kids something that they would take shit from in school,” I disagreed with him. “Can’t say that I’m too happy about all the added bullying in my formative years because of my name, but it is what it is.”
“Can’t say that I know what bullying is like myself, but kids are dumb,” he murmured roughly.
We were quiet after that, not saying a word to each other until our food came.
“I only found Coke,” he apologized to the man, setting the Coke down in front of me instead of the man at my side’s table.
“Uh, can I also have water?” I asked, because there was no way that I was going to drink that Coke or take the Dr Pepper away from the man who’d asked for my name, but hadn’t shared his.
Even though I could guess it based on what I’d heard earlier.
Finnian.
“Uh, sure,” the flight attendant said. “I’ll be back to get that once I get these other trays passed out.”
He left and came back with the next set of seats’ food and drink.
I stared at the drink angrily.
I really wanted that Dr Pepper.
I…
The can of Dr Pepper came into my vision, and then the man’s long, work-rough fingers reached for my Coke.
I opened my mouth to tell him it wasn’t a big deal, but before I could he said, “I don’t have a preference. I like them all.”
His words took the wind out of my sails. “Thank you.”
“No problem, Dru.”
The honeyed words from that man’s lips…it sounded like a caress against my most intimate parts.
Geez, the man was potent.
The flight attendant got everyone’s drink orders, then got everyone’s food out to them next.
Except mine was most definitely not chicken parmesan like I’d ordered.
I stared at it in disgust, but didn’t correct the man.
Finnian, however, did.
When the flight attendant came to bring him his chicken parmesan, he picked up my tray and held it out to the flight attendant and said, “This isn’t what she ordered. You can give her mine for now.”
The flight attendant looked like he’d swallowed a lemon.
“There aren’t enough chicken…”
“You asked her first, and I can tell you now that you had enough when you asked me,” he pointed out.
“I also know, because one of my good friends is a flight attendant, that staff also gets their choice last. So if you have a chicken parmesan sitting back there for the pilot or yourself, then you might want to go ahead and switch out this for one of those.”
The flight attendant took the food, set down mine with a small clatter, and left.
I opened my mouth and closed it, ready to thank the man again, but the flight attendant was back just as fast with Finnian’s food.
“Prick,” Finnian muttered as the flight attendant left. “I wouldn’t drink or eat anything else that he’s personally made for you.”
I groaned. “Got it.”
“You never asked.”
I looked over at him and said, “Asked what?”
“What my name was.”
I unrolled my cutlery and placed it gently on the tray next to my plate before saying, “I feel like if you wanted me to have it, you’d have shared.
Usually that’s what happens when someone asks for someone else’s name—offers theirs up in return.
Since you didn’t do that, I didn’t ask because I figured you didn’t want me to know it. ”
He tilted his head. “You don’t recognize me at all, do you?”
I was already shaking my head. “Not at all. Should I?”
He cleared his throat. “I guess if you don’t follow politics, then you probably wouldn’t have a frame of reference.”
“I don’t.” I shuddered. “I try to stay out of politics. The less I hear about them, the better.”
“Amen,” he muttered.
I lifted a brow, ready to ask him more about his comment, but the flight attendant was back, bumping me in the shoulder with his ass as he passed.
I jolted, causing my plate to clatter.
“It’s Finnian, but everyone calls me Apollo,” he replied.
“Finnian.”