Chapter 20
OLIVIA
I sat in one of the rear-facing seats across from Fletcher as we finished our late lunches. I didn’t turn to watch the flight attendant open the door and extend the stairs for our final passenger. And, true to form, Ethan didn’t make any noise when he boarded.
“Glad you could join us,” Fletcher said after Ethan had relayed to the captain that we were ready to depart.
I sucked in a breath and turned, sweeping my gaze all the way up to his intense and beautiful eyes.
There was that feeling of being weightless again.
How did he have such an effect on me? And the wild part was he stared at me as if he felt that same weightlessness.
His chest rose with a deep breath as he strode forward and took the seat across the aisle from Fletcher.
My brain was buzzing, and it was the first thing that came out, rather than a greeting. “You rescued Kara Hayward?”
Ethan’s surprise was quickly replaced with irritation, directed at the other man. “Yes. What else did he tell you?”
Before I could say anything, Fletcher replied, only in German. Whatever was said, it was utterly shocking, and Ethan jolted.
His tone was pure accusation. “You told him we slept together?”
I gnashed my teeth for a moment. “No, but I’m sure your reaction just did.”
Fletcher grinned. “Clever girl. Certainly more clever than you.”
He waved off Ethan’s icy stare as he stood, collected the last of the lunch items on the tray, and moved toward the galley. His departure forced my attention to Ethan. He looked weary, and there was something else at the edges of his eyes I couldn’t place. Worry?
“Are you all right?”
He considered how to answer, perhaps wanting to lie, but the truth won out. “I’m exhausted,” he admitted. “You?”
I nodded and forced myself to sound casual to mask my anxiety. “I’m keeping it together.”
His gaze was inescapable. “I’ve noticed.”
A compliment from him? I felt flushed, heat warming my body. Determined to distract myself, I attempted to buckle my seatbelt, but the sharp sting across my palm reminded me of my cut. I wasn’t a baby, but it hurt like hell.
The pain disappeared when Ethan rose from his seat. “I can do that.”
“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have—”
But it was too late. I sat utterly still with my breath held as he leaned over, so incredibly close that it tempted me to reach out and touch him. To grasp his chin with my good hand and pull his mouth down to mine.
I was just barely able to resist. There was the faint sound of metal clicking, and he tugged gently on the belt to cinch it around my hips. Outside the fuselage, I could hear the engines priming.
“Ethan,” I whispered. “Why am I not on a plane headed back to America?”
He froze. “Because we wouldn’t—” His expression was unreadable. “Is that what you want?”
My heart thumped faster than the engines spinning up. Blood rushed in my ears. Answering that honestly was a risk, but . . . it was one I was willing to take. Besides, he could tell when I was lying, anyway.
Did I want to be on a plane headed home and never see this man again? “No.”
He straightened, and his stare burned into me, making every cell in my body feel alive. He looked relieved, pleased. “Me neither.”
This thing between us, whatever it was, was powerfully strong. Terrifying and exhilarating.
The plane began to move, rolling toward runway alpha, where I usually got clearance to take off, and the spell was broken when Fletcher returned.
Ethan’s demeanor shifted into one that was pure business. He dug something out of the laptop bag he’d brought on board and handed it to me.
My logbook.
Anger flared, white-hot. That fucking family. They’d destroyed so much.
“How many people,” I asked, “are the Abramos responsible for killing?”
His expression hardened. “A lot. And more, if I don’t go back to them soon.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised he’d have to go back, but disappointment filled me. I had to ignore the feeling and refocus my thoughts. “All right. What can I do to help?”
“I didn’t have much time, but I flipped through it. You said you made notes?”
“Oh.” I had, only I’d done them in a shorthand system that probably made no sense to him.
He took what had been Fletcher’s seat across from me and buckled in, leaning forward while I explained the notes for destinations and times, weather conditions, and what he was most interested in—the passenger descriptions.
I’d jotted down who I’d flown, when and where, plus any other details I had on the passengers other than the Abramos.
“I told you when we met that it’s my job to know what happens on my plane.”
He turned the pages, combing through my writing like it was fascinating, but he paused on the last entry. Curiosity flashed in his eyes. “Why is there an asterisk here?”
He didn’t have to show me the line scrawled in my writing for me to know what he was talking about.
“It’s not relevant,” I answered quickly, heat crawling up my neck.
The asterisk was beside the name Nathan on the flight down to South Africa. The curiosity intensified on his face. He wasn’t going to let it go.
“I thought you were interesting, all right?” I said. “I put that asterisk there so I would remember Nathan, the freakishly tall American who said he was dangerous.”
Fletcher’s chuckle rumbled from across the aisle, but it seemed to go unnoticed by Ethan. He blinked away his stunned look, and his gaze fell to the star beside his name. What was he thinking about?
Slowly, he shut the log and slipped it back into his bag, a hint of a smile on his lips.
The men had spent most of the flight discussing something in German, and we parted ways with the Englishman at the airport. Ethan hadn’t said much on the thirty-minute limo ride. He used most of his time on his phone, reading and tapping out messages.
A security guard in the lobby escorted us up the private elevator and to the front door of Shawn Dunn’s Munich penthouse. As soon as Ethan punched in a code on the keypad and the door swung open, the guard nodded his farewell.
My heart was in my throat as we moved inside.
The entryway led into an open, modern kitchen and sitting area, decorated with lavish furniture.
Every inch boasted of expense and taste.
The back wall was all windows, displaying a breathtaking view of downtown and the billowing smokestack of a factory off in the distance.
The Osterh?gen logo gleamed in white lettering.
I recognized the woman in several of the photos that cycled through the digital picture frame on the counter. Kara Hayward. It was odd, the idea that I’d meet her. We had more in common besides Ethan, and I wondered if Ms. Hayward had the same disdain for media attention that I did.
The next picture in the slideshow was captivating.
A brute of a man, a police badge slung around his neck and over a bulletproof vest, standing beside a younger woman, who wore a glittering white ballet costume.
The juxtaposition of masculine and feminine was fascinating, but Ethan’s shoulders tensed at the image.
“You know them?”
“Shawn’s brother, Jason. And the woman, her name is Laurel.” It advanced to a picture of that same couple in a garden, wearing wedding attire. “I haven’t seen her look like that . . . in a while.”
Outside, the sun was setting, and it allowed exhaustion to sneak up on me. Even though I usually didn’t need much sleep, the past few days had been anything but normal, and the long nap this morning hadn’t recharged me.
So I remained standing, rather than sink onto the couch beneath a gorgeous black and white framed picture of the Osterh?gen brewery. The last thing I wanted to do right now was accidentally drift off.
The front door swung open, and a woman stepped in.
She set her purse on the entryway table, took off her coat, and hung it in the closet.
Kara Hayward was shockingly tall, perched on top of heels and dressed in a beautifully cut navy business suit.
She moved leisurely, not calling out or looking for us.
It was as if she didn’t know anyone was there.
My suspicions were confirmed when she strolled toward the kitchen, discovered me standing there, and froze in place. Fear flooded her expression as she stared at me, the unannounced stranger who lurked in her home.
Then Ethan stepped into view and her pale blue eyes filled with shock. “Ethan?”
“Kara,” he said. “How are you?”
She peered up at him like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. But she blinked it away and smoothed her palms down the sides of her skirt. “Good,” she said. “Much better than the last time we saw each other. And you?”
His tone was steady, revealing nothing. “I’m all right.”
She brushed back a lock of hair as if she could push away the bad memory just as easily. “I never got a chance to say it, you know. Thank you. Thank you for helping us.”
He shifted as if uncomfortable. “You don’t need to thank me.”
Her pretty face took on a dubious cast. “You saved my life. You saved Laurel’s life.” She reached out and set her hands on the counter, perhaps bracing herself. “Has something happened?”
“Did Shawn not tell you we were coming?”
She pulled out her phone, took one look at her screen, and her face fell. “Schei?e. I have seven missed calls.” She lifted her embarrassed gaze to him. “My phone’s on silent.”
“That’s okay,” Ethan said, gesturing to me. “This is Olivia. We’ve run into some trouble, and Shawn and Jason offered to help. She needs a place to stay and lay low for a few weeks. But things have—”
The front door burst open, slammed shut, and heavy footsteps pounded closer. A dark form appeared in the entryway, moving swiftly forward. A black suit wrapped around the man who was almost as tall as Ethan, but his frame was lanky whereas Ethan’s was broad and hardened.
Shawn Dunn was as traditionally handsome as Kara was classically beautiful.
“Fuck, Kara,” he said, a German accent flavoring his words. “I’ve been trying your mobile for the last hour. I almost sent my assistant to get you.”