Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
I sat straight up in my bed, the ringing of my cell pulling me out of one of my nightmares. I scrambled for my phone, wondering who thought it was important enough to call me at four in the morning.
“Hello.” I yawned and stretched.
“Miss McLean, I need you.” The vibration of Mr. Smith’s voice reached for my insides, traveled throughout my body, and found its home between my legs. I shut my thighs, trying to ease it or capture it. “Miss McLean, did you hear what I said?”
My chest heaved. His words weren’t meant to be sexy, but coming from him, my body reacted.
“Yes, sir.” The breathy answer escaped my lips.
His chuckle was like a dash of cold water on my face. I didn’t like being laughed at, and I was equally pissed at myself for letting him know how he affected me.
“Meet me at the private airport outside of the city limits in one hour,” he demanded, then hung up.
I threw the covers off and rushed to my closet. I didn’t know what kind of trip this was, so I picked business instead of tactical.
Once dressed, I texted my team to let them know where to meet. They responded they were already on the way. I retrieved my Glock and shoulder holster, then shimmied it on. I nestled and snapped my gun in the holster, then grabbed my keys, purse, and suit jacket, exiting my place.
My team was standing and waiting, dressed in various forms of business attire, but not suits. None of them were dressed in a suit. I closed my car door, locked it, and made my way over to my team with a smirk.
“Don’t you say a fucking word,” Aaden warned.
I threw my hands up. “I swear I wasn’t going to say anything, but you guys clean up good.”
The groans started, and I laughed. The sound of the approaching vehicle caught our attention, putting all of us on guard. When the car stopped and Donavon stepped out of the vehicle. Everyone visibly exhaled.
“Good to see you all,” he said, straightening his suit jacket and then buttoning two buttons.
Damn, he looks like a model.
“What are we doing here?” I inquired, saying what everyone else was thinking.
“You’ll have to ask Smith when he gets here.” He moved closer to the rest of the group. “In the meantime, I need for everyone to move their cars to the garage.”
Our eyes moved in the direction of the barely visible cinder block building not too far from the airplane hangar.
If not for the security lights all around it, we wouldn’t know what direction to look.
The windows were at the very top and looked like an ominous warehouse from a horror movie rather than a garage.
“We’re going to be gone that long?” Dennis asked, worry etched on his face.
No matter what we agreed on, he was wary of our work with Transient.
“That’s something you need to ask him when he gets here,” Donavon said.
We followed Donavon’s lead, filing down the short, paved road to the garage. We entered a van waiting to take us back to the private jet. The guys stretched like they had been cooped up for hours.
“Are you coming or what?” Mr. Smith asked.
By my body’s reaction, I didn’t need to turn around to know his shoulders filled up the entryway of the plane or to know he was dressed impeccably in a blue suit tailored to his enormous frame.
And I didn’t need to turn around to know he was wearing a sexy as fuck smirk that made me think he was up to something.
My face heated when I felt his eyes roaming my body.
“Be careful,” Aaden whispered. “He wants you.”
He walked up the stairs, and I didn’t respond. Aaden’s warning was fact, but I wanted Mr. Smith too.
“You don’t have to worry,” I muttered as we climbed the stairs.
I’d never been on a private jet and thought it would be too small for our entourage. But as soon as I stepped in, the size of the jet encompassed me. I gawked as I looked around at the luxurious cream and gold interior.
The entire inside was cream accented with gold trimming.
The floors were blanketed with the softest carpet.
My heels sunk down, urging me to take them off, but I refrained.
My team filled the chairs lined against either side of the open cabin.
Donavon settled in one of the two cream armchairs etched with gold stitching at the front of the cabin.
“Would you like a tour?” Mr. Smith asked me.
The question traveled deep into my chest and pierced my soul. This man was too sensual for his own good. And dangerous. But I couldn’t leave him with his arm out, waiting for me to take it in front of everyone.
“Sure.”
Hesitantly, I looped my arm in his, and eyes bore into the back of my head. I refused to look back as Mr. Smith pulled me along with him through the plane.
“There’s a conference room in this section.” He motioned. “And back there”—he pointed to the tail of the plane—“is a bedroom with a full bath.”
Admittedly, I was in awe. I’d never been in the presence of so much luxury. When we landed, I was going to do a little research on Mr. Smith.
“What kind of jet is this?” I asked. “I never knew a private jet could be this big.”
He chuckled. “It’s a Boeing business jet. I bought it years ago.”
Amazed, I continued to scan each room. His immense shoulders shook as he escorted me to the bar. It pissed me off he was laughing at me. I pulled myself out of his grasp, and he halted mid-stride.
For a second, his cheery fa?ade slipped, revealing the danger underneath. Then the charming grin was back, and my insides quivered. Mr. Smith was a paradox I wanted to unravel.
My anger quickly fizzled. It would take everything in me to resist the urge to beg him to fuck me on this bar we were sitting at. No man invoked the lust I was feeling. The realization snapped me back to reality. I felt my body take a pause, saying, “Hold up, what are you doing?”
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes, I just don’t appreciate you laughing at me. This is all new.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
He sat on the stool, offering the one beside him.
“I’m on duty.”
“Not right now.” He chuckled. “Sit.”
I had the urge to defy his wishes. I don’t know why.
Maybe push his buttons like he was pushing mine.
I got the feeling he didn’t have many people disobey him.
He remained silent but pinned me with a look that made me think if I didn’t do as he asked, there was going to be trouble.
My body quivered as I took the stool beside him.
“So, where are we going?” I asked.
“California,” he said, but added nothing else.
Mr. Smith was tight-lipped with information. I suppose that was good when someone was trying to kill you.
“And why at this god-awful hour?”
“My usual,” he said to the bartender when he made his way to us. “And a…”
“Water,” I said. There was no way I would be drinking, especially when my body screamed for some rest.
“Live a little,” he urged. “Drink a beer at least. Plus, you’re on duty when I say. And right now…” He took up his drink, downing most of the amber liquid then sitting it on the coaster. “You’re not on duty, Miss McLean.”
I reached for the water in front of me as he nodded to the bartender, who then retreated.
“If I weren’t on duty, Mr. Smith, I would be”—I glanced at my watch—“taking my three in the morning bathroom trip to pee.” Very unladylike, but his smugness was getting on my nerves. How in the hell can a man be sexy as hell and annoying at the same time?
“Touché.” He raised his glass, and I raised my plastic bottle of water. We both took deep swigs. “And to answer your question about the hour, it keeps my enemies on their toes.” He laughed.
I didn’t see the slightest thing funny about enemies staying on their toes. I was about to earn every bit of the salary he paid to keep my team and me on permanent retainer.
“Ahhh,” I said, taking another sip of my water. “Mr. Smith, you’re going to be a hard man to keep alive, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I think you’ll be up for the challenge.” He tipped his glass my way and coaxed a block of ice from the glass into his mouth.
Our gazes froze on one another. I couldn’t turn away as he captured that block of ice between his lips, sucking on it. I held back the groan threatening to release and rose from my stool. “I better get back to my men.”
To my relief and my disappointment, he didn’t stop me. If I didn’t keep my wits about me, I would do something stupid, like make a play for my boss.
I didn’t know how long I slept before I was jerked awake by the landing gear hitting the runway. I stretched, then looked at my watch. It was almost six thirty in the morning.
“Shit, how long was I asleep?” I asked Donavon, who sat in the seat next to me, tapping away on his keyboard.
He slammed it shut. “Around two hours give or take.”
I put my heels back on and waited for the plane to come to a complete stop. As I waited, I noticed Mr. Smith wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and my guys were in various stages of waking up. The light above us glared brightly, then the captain came over the loudspeaker.
“It is now safe to unfasten your seat belts,” he announced.
Grateful, I stood slowly, working the kinks out. I strolled over to my men and gave them instructions as we waited for one of the two stewardesses on board to open the door.
“Jackson and Rivera go out first and have a look, then give Donavon the okay to make his way off the plane. I’ll go before Mr. Smith, followed by Blackmon and Conrad,” I ordered, pulling my Glock from its holster.
It was loaded, with the safety off, a habit I formed when going on missions.
The checking and re-checking I never did before Tristan. I supposed it was a trust thing.
“I trust you all slept well.” Mr. Smith came from the back of the plane toward us. “Everyone ready?”
Mr. Smith stepped toward the now open door, and I stepped in front of him, blocking his way.
“You wait,” I commanded.
Anger flashed across his face before he schooled his features behind a cocky-ass smile.