11. Millie
The whirring engine and gentle vibrations didn’t lull me to sleep or still my nerves the way they generally did. The typed words blurred on the screen resting on my lap. Reading normally calmed me, but currently, every drop of concentration was centered on not stealing a look at the dangerously handsome man relaxing in the seat across from me.
I could feel his stare. It hadn’t left me since the jet took off. It made me hot and jittery, uncomfortable but not.
Gritting my teeth, I blinked several times as a last-ditch effort to focus on the document Charlie sent with the information on our new identities instead of the crazy, magnetic pull Killian had over me. Memorizing came easy; read the information once, and boom, I filed it away, never to be forgotten. But apparently, my photographic memory failed when I was actively avoiding someone whose sheer presence demanded my attention.
“You can’t ignore me forever, Millie,” he said, humor lacing his haughty tone, though it felt forced. I rolled my eyes. “We are married, after all.”
“I want a divorce,” I grumbled while toying with the large, insanely real-looking diamond ring Rhyan handed me just before we boarded the jet.
“And that is why we’re going to a marriage seminar, honey.” I peeked up through dark lashes, finding him smirking, eyes still fixed on me. “At least we won’t have to fake a rift between us.”
I snorted. “Rift. More like the Grand Canyon.”
All humor drained from his features, turning serious. Leaning back in the chair, he folded both arms over his firm chest. “You’re the one who volunteered for this. Not sure why you’re so pissed about it when you got what you wanted.”
“I didn’t think I was signing up to spend two weeks with you, asshole,” I snapped back.
“Well, too fucking bad, Velma?—”
“Stop calling me that,” I hissed and jammed my finger in his direction. “That person, those people we were, don’t exist anymore, so neither does the nickname.”
“You’re right about that.” His aqua eyes slowly skimmed down my body. “Maybe we’re both better versions of ourselves.”
My snarky response sat heavy on my tongue. The quick flash of pain in his gaze that he couldn’t hide made me want to reach out to him. Too soon, his perfected fake mask slid back into place, hiding any genuine emotion.
“Well, at least I am a better version now than back in college. It’s the hair.” He pointed to the messy man bun. “It’s a personality changer, for real. Not sure how since it’s just hair, but I feel like the massive amount somehow alters something in the psyche. Like how your much shorter hair has changed yours.”
The snark in his tone told me I’d regret asking. “And how is that?”
“Seems the shorter the hair, the longer the stick up your ass.” My lips popped open in shock. “Just a general observation.” His broad shoulders rose and fell in an uncaring shrug. “I’m still conducting research.”
“You’re such a fucking asshole.”
His smile turned razor sharp. “Never said I wasn’t.” Eyes scanning my face, he leaned forward, bracing both elbows on top of spread thighs. “Ready to back out, Dr. Anderson? Or are you excited to spend two entire weeks with me, side by side, day and night, working together and, of course, you learning how to be a good, obedient wife?”
My lip curled in a snarl. “You mean their version of a ‘good, obedient wife’ as in someone who’s had her voice cut off, fear infused in their veins to keep from escaping, and a mental state so damaged she actually believes the shit her husband spews?”
The muscle along his jaw popped before he blew out a slow breath, as if to calm himself.
“Exactly. And believe me, wife, it won’t be easy for someone like you, so I’d consider backing out of this assignment now. Let the trained agents help this girl. Not someone who plays the part from the sidelines—where you should stay, where it’s safe.”
I swallowed hard and adverted my eyes, not wanting him to see how much his words cut me to the core. “Someone like me?” I rasped, swallowing down the tears I refused to let fall. Staring out the window, I attempted to follow the tree-covered mountain range that looked so tiny below us.
A grumbled curse jerked my gaze back to Killian. Before I could ask what made him go from cocky asshole to looking dejected, one of his many masks slid into place, guarding the real Killian from letting me fully see him.
“Yes, someone like you. Too smart and reckless for her own damn good,” he muttered while scrubbing a hand down his face. “If we’re doing this, then we need to use the last hour of this flight to go over the fake identities. This assignment is a dangerous shit show where we’ll both probably end up dead or held against our will, but who wants to focus on the dark reality when we can hope for the best? Am I right?”
There was something seriously wrong with his chipper tone mixed with those terrifying words. But I saw it for what it was, what all this was. His snarky attitude, asshole demeanor, and mean words were his last attempt to scare me. If he made me hate him more than I already did, I might back down and scurry back to my boring life. Why he wanted that and didn’t want me on this assignment, wasn’t clear. If it were young Killian, I would say he wanted to keep me safe, out of harm’s way. But I didn’t know about adult Killian. Maybe he hated me or couldn’t stand the idea of being stuck with me for two weeks.
Now, why did that make me want to throat-punch him while simultaneously sobbing until I died of dehydration?
As much as I loathed the man who shattered my heart so well it never worked properly again, I couldn’t help but need to be around him, too. The thought of not moving forward with this dangerous task made my stomach twist in painful knots, knowing if I didn’t play Killian’s wife for this assignment, then someone else would.
Maybe even that Jessica woman with her big boobs, gorgeous face, and awful personality.
“You feeling all right over there, Millie?”
I cleared my throat and shifted in the seat. “Yes, why do you ask?”
“Because you looked like you tasted something sour, or you really need to fart.”
Jaw slack, I gaped at the grinning idiot. “I do not need to fart.”
He tossed up both hands. “It’s a normal bodily function. No need to be embarrassed.”
“I wouldn’t be embarrassed if I did actually need to pass gas.” Lie, I totally would be. “But I don’t. I was just thinking about…” Fuck, I needed a cover story so he didn’t know I was angry at the mere thought of another woman in my place. The trees outside the window thousands of feet below us, gave me an idea. Not a good one, but an idea, nonetheless. “Pine… cones.”
“Well, that settles it. We’re officially going to die.”
“What? Are we going down?” I shouted. The soft gray leather groaned beneath me as I twisted around to see if the wing had fallen off or if the engine had caught fire.
“The plane is fine. I’m talking about you and this assignment. You’re a shit liar, Millie. You always have been. Now you’re about to walk into a situation where every word you speak will be a lie. So, yeah, I’m placing my bets on us dying within five minutes of us landing in Georgia.” Killian scoffed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Pinecones. Really? Who the fuck thinks about pinecones?” No one. Not even me. He was right. I was a terrible liar. Should’ve thought about that before suggesting this plan to Rhyan. “Well, besides Rhyan.” I turned, collapsing into the seat with a harrumph. “She thinks of the most random shit and tosses out all these odd facts. It’s funny, and odd, but more funny. Offers a nice break from all the dark shit we study, you know.”
I bit my tongue to keep from telling him I didn’t know since he was the cool FBI profiler and me the boring professor. “Are you and Rhyan close?” I tried to keep my tone light, hoping he couldn’t pick up on the tension.
Taking a sip from the water bottle at his feet, both dirty-blond brows pulled in tight. “Well, yeah, she’s my boss. Plus, she’s cool as shit, and... wait.” A slow, knowing grin curved his lips. “Are you jealous?”
“What?” I said way too quickly and the tone way too high to be believable. “No, I’m not jealous.”
Maybe a little, but not in the way he thinks. I’m more jealous that she’d gotten to spend time with him and knows this version of Killian.
“Me thinks you protest too much.”
I scoffed. “You butchered it. The quote is ‘The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’”
“Only Shakespeare could make up a word like methinks. But me butchering the quote?—”
“Which you did on purpose to piss me off. You have a memory better than mine. You knew how the quote went,” I sighed. Exhaustion rode me hard after a terrible night”s sleep in the lonely hotel room to the constant stress of the morning. Reaching into my laptop bag, I tapped out a preventative migraine pill and swallowed it dry.
“Was that a compliment?” I just rolled my eyes and pretended to study the document. “So, you’re jealous of Rhyan.” I didn’t dare explain why I was jealous. “After last night, seeing her and Charlie together, I thought it was clear those two were it for each other.”
“It’s amazing,” I admitted.
“What is?”
I didn’t hide the sappy smile that grew, remembering how they were utterly obsessed with each other. “It’s his devotion to her, as if he’ll burn down the world to make her happy. Plus, the way she looks at him. You can sense that he’s her rock, that she can trust him unconditionally to be there for her.”
“I’m envious of the effortlessness in their relationship,” Killian added with longing in his tone. “They just get each other. So consumed with the other person, yet somehow it’s not smothering. Rhyan is a fucking badass profiler and an amazing boss.” His aqua eyes met mine. “Who I respect and would lay my life down for, but am not attracted to, just so you know.”
“Whatever.” My stiff, nonchalant shrug exposed my lie. “It’s fine.”
It totally wasn’t. Killian was back in my life, and even though I was pissed, hurt, and a plethora of other negative feelings, the man was mine.
Always was and always would be.
Oh, fuck.
I gaped at my reflection on the black screen. Was I devolving into a delusional sociopath? Maybe all the years and stress of searching for Killian, dreaming up fantasies of a life with him in it, splintered my psyche, making me delusional enough to actually believe Killian was mine.
I turned my horrified stare to Killian. “If I try to kidnap you or tell you about some fantasy world like it’s reality, I need you to restrain me and call for help.”
“Oh, Millie,” he practically purred. I watched, entranced, as his thumb stroked back and forth along his lower lip. “I’ll restrain you any day or time. All you have to do is ask. But call for help.” He clicked his tongue. “I don’t think so. You on display will only be for me.”
And that was when I swallowed my tongue. Well, it felt like it anyway. That was the only explanation because surely I didn’t just choke on spit.
“Also, Charlie isn’t intimidated by Rhyan’s success,” Killian continued, wearing a small, knowing smirk as I smacked at my chest, attempting to breathe normally. “And she’s not intimidated by the fact that every man and woman who meets Charlie either wants to fuck him, be him, or skin him alive to make a very attractive skin suit.” My eyes went wide. Interesting. Maybe I wasn’t the only delusional one on this plane. Not sure if that made me feel better or not. “But the latter is reserved for the serial killers he’s identified and put away.”
“And that’s what you do, too, as a profiler?”
A storm brewed behind his eyes. “Yeah. I joined the team when Rhyan created the Dallas-based BSU unit. She helped pull me out of a shitty situation when I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
A surge of possessiveness spiked, heating me from the inside out. It should’ve been me who saved him. I dedicated my career, the last ten years of my life, to looking for him. Every day, following various leads or rumors to find where Killian’s father might have hidden him. I didn’t know for certain if his father was a cult leader, but the hints Killian let slip led me to believe he was, or at least deeply involved in one.
“And now I’m here.” He shook his head. A few long blond pieces fell forward, framing his face. “I help put baddies away and love every minute of it.” I studied his features, noting the tightness around his eyes. There was a lie somewhere in his words. “And you’re a teacher.”
“Professor,” I corrected, fighting down the sudden swell of inadequacy. Killian was not only the sexiest man alive but an FBI profiler, a badass with a badge, and I was just me. I shouldn’t be surprised. I always felt that way around Killian. I just hadn’t felt it in so long I forgot how it stole my breath for a single heartbeat. “But yeah. I teach at Harvard a few classes a semester for the psychology department. It keeps me busy.”
And utterly lonely. Not that I would admit it to him.
“And?” he said with a pointed look. “What else have you been up to these past ten years?”
Lips pursed, I shrugged. “Nothing, really. That’s it. I teach, study, research, and document various control groups around the US for fun and sometimes help the FBI when they need me.”
A throat clearing startled me, making my heart hammer in my chest, and Hunter folded into the seat beside me. “Holy shit, you two. There is so much sexual tension here. Even sitting in the back of the plane, it’s distracting.” He pointed between me and Killian. “I hate to interrupt whatever this is, but we all need to review the information Charlie sent. You both might have genius-level IQs, but I’m just a muggle over here, no crazy, cool powers.”
I nodded sheepishly. How could I have forgotten he was on the plane, too?
“Muggle?” I questioned, head angling to the side. “Is that a new term for someone with?—”
“Careful how you finish that sentence, Millie,” Killian said, cutting me off. “You don’t want to piss off your handler slash bodyguard for this assignment by pointing out his average intelligence.” The rustle sounded beside me, followed by a crumpled piece of paper flying toward Killian’s head. He caught it one-handed out of the air without looking away from me. “Muggle as in someone without magic, per the bestselling book series, Harry Potter.”
I twisted to Hunter. “Killian, over there, learns by listening to the information while I memorize anything I read. What type of learner are you?”
Hunter responded with a strange, almost confused expression. No matter how he learned best, we’d figure it out. He needed to know the information inside and out, down to the very minute detail, like Killian and me.
Having a bodyguard/handler assigned to my lush new identity was a caveat Killian demanded. Since some classes and seminars were broken up between genders, he didn’t like the idea of me being anywhere alone.
“When is your hair appointment?” Killian randomly asked before we could start.
“Tomorrow morning.” I didn’t mask the cheerful smile as it spread across my face. “Cotton candy pink. It’s the most daring thing I’ve ever done, and I can’t wait.”
“Next up, infiltrating a dangerous cult. Bet you didn’t expect that to be on your life bingo card.”
I blinked at Killian. “What bingo card?”
He and Hunter exchanged a look I couldn’t read before the latter spoke up.
“No more talking unless it’s about the case and our new identities. I’d really rather not get us killed because of a slipup.”
With a firm nod, I tapped the screen, bringing it back to life.
“Okay, let’s start with Killian’s family tree and go from there. We’ll have this memorized before the plane lands.”
We had to.
Our lives depended on it.