9. OLIVIA
OLIVIA
Ihated what I was about to do.
Sucking in a determined breath, I straightened my shoulders and strutted down the aisle. When I reached him, I offered a sweet smile that I used for my cheer competition headshots. That smile said: I’m a sweet girl with the sweetest intentions. It also said: ruin me.
Coupled with the not-so-discreet unbuttoning of my uniform, the added padding in my bra, and an already bountiful bosom, I was sin wrapped in honey.
And I felt sick to my core.
Madoc’s hand paused briefly where he was working his way through a family-sized packet of rainbow-colored Skittles.
He had a killer sweet tooth, which was funny considering his whole I’m-dark-and-broody-and-murdery-persona.
If I needed another reason to hate him, it was his ability to slam down forty thousand calories without a single zit or extra pound in sight.
He was leaner than Jax, but his frame was cut and defined. His thigh muscles alone…
Nope. We’re not doing that.
Madoc gave me a slow, sweeping look. The man beside him looked unwell, but I chose to believe it was Madoc’s proximity and not my attempt to be seductive.
“Anything you need from me, sir?” I asked Madoc softly.
Madoc’s brow twitched. Any other guy would’ve asked questions, like why I was suddenly coming on to him in the middle of economy. But not him.
Madoc was annoyingly quick to get with the program. He was always ten steps ahead, anticipating my every move.
His lip quirked, like he found it hilarious. Which, yeah, not a great boost to my confidence. My cheeks warmed in embarrassment, but I didn’t retreat. I had a job to do.
Madoc crooked his finger, beckoning me closer. His bottom lip had the faintest red stain from the Skittles.
Fitting, considering his unspoken blood kink.
Instead of speaking, Madoc reached out when I leaned over and adjusted my scarf. He notched it precisely to the left. Lucille would approve.
Then his eyes flicked down, so quickly that I almost missed it.
Something warm pulsed through me.
“What’s the verdict, Sherlock?” I asked him.
He hummed. “Gold star, Watson.”
I leaned closer, so we couldn’t be overheard. “You think this will work?”
“Pretty girls are distracting.”
He’d told me that before. Right before he used me as bait during the last job.
The memory sent me reeling back from him.
I hoped he choked to death on his stupid candy.
Plastering on my winning smile, I marched across to the other side of the cabin. I knew I didn’t imagine the bounce of a Skittle or two against my back.
Asshole.
As I got closer, my heart pounded harder.
The plan was simple: flirt with Peter, get close to him, identify the prototype. The fact that I had a plane full of witnesses was just the icing on top.
I was about to lie to a profiler. If he saw through me, not only would I die from humiliation, but it would also jeopardize my cover. If that happened, we’d have to resort to plan B.
Plan B involved too much murder for my liking. If Jax had his way, he’d probably kill Peter and take the prototype before we’d even reached Zurich. I knew that was how they’d done it in the past. They weren’t killers, but they made exceptions for men like Peter.
We only kill those who strike us first, Jax told me once. A noble thief, if there was such a thing.
My palms grew clammy. Quickly, I swiped them over my skirt, removing any creases.
I could do this.
For Molly.
I’d do anything for Molly.
Preacher had never explicitly said what would happen if I failed, but I knew. Molly was his leverage. He made sure to mention her name many times in conversation. A constant reminder of the stakes.
I will always protect you and Molly.
Sometimes, I couldn’t believe this was my life.
Peter was scrolling idly on his phone when I came up behind him. Then his screen went dark, and his eyes immediately clocked me in the reflection.
I didn’t falter.
The point was to be seen. He angled his phone slightly, as if wanting a better view of my approach. It wasn’t until I was a few steps away that he placed his phone face down on his tray table.
Giving me his full attention.
I stopped just in front of him, leaning slightly on the seat ahead. I cocked my hip and crossed my ankles. Those unsettling icy eyes roamed over me, lingering on every inch of exposed flesh.
“I’ve popped your briefcase above row 74. Just in case you needed it.”
Row 74 was Madoc’s row. Worst case, I sent one killer to another.
Peter hummed, looking up at me with his signature cocky grin. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Of course. I am at your service, sir.”
Gag.
Peter’s brow twitched up slightly, as if surprised by my boldness.
Was I laying it on too thick? I’d never tried to seduce someone before.
I’d never really needed to. I was cute, blonde, and approachable.
My mother said it was a fleeting gift of youth.
She was not-so-subtly conditioning me to settle down and get married before my looks faded and I had nothing left to offer.
If I had the personality of a bitter cow like her, I’d be worried, too.
“At my service?” Peter hummed, tilting his head. “Well, what else can you do for me?”
I twirled my ponytail around my finger. “What else would you like?”
“Tell me about yourself.”
My throat tightened slightly. But luckily, I’d rehearsed this.
“Well, I’m a Sagittarius,” I whispered, like it was groundbreaking information. “So I’m very optimistic, and I love learning new things.”
His right hand twitched on the tray. His gold ring made a small, unsettling tapping sound. It was oddly in tune with my rapid pulse.
To distract myself from the sound, I kept rambling: “I’m twenty-one, but I’ve been told I look younger. I think it’s my face.”
“It is,” Peter agreed, staring at my face. “Keep going.”
I swallowed nervously. My eyes tracked him discreetly; his hands, his pockets, looking for anything that was out-of-the-ordinary. “Uh, well, I was also voted most likely to win an Emmy in my yearbook. Not that I’m an actress, or anything. I just have that razzle dazzle personality.”
Kill me now. Peter laughed, like I’d spoken that last part aloud. His smile hadn’t changed, so I had no idea if he was buying it. I dragged my eyes over him with a flirtatious smile, as if I was checking him out.
No bulging pockets. Could he be hiding it in his shoe?
His watch caught my eye. Gold, expensive. The kind of watch my father liked.
In fact, it was exactly the kind of watch my father liked, right down to the model.
Just a coincidence, I told myself. There was no way he knew who I really was.
“Fascinating,” Peter said, and leaned toward me. “That was certainly an award-winning performance.”
My heart stopped.
I forced out a giggle. It sounded just a tad screechy. “What do you mean?”
“You’re new to this.” His eyes lingered on my chest. “Fear has a scent. It’s not detectable to most people. But I am not most people.” His eyes flicked up. “I scare you. Why?”
“I’m not scared,” I lied. I was terrified.
“You lick your lips when you lie.”
Note to self: cut out tongue next time.
Sweat prickled the back of my neck. Somehow, I’d ended up cornered, with no way out. I had to either retreat or regain control.
I still didn’t know where he could be hiding it. If only I had more time, or a way to get even closer to him…
His eyes flickered away, as if losing interest. Shit.
“You do scare me,” I blurted out. His gaze sharpened on me. “You remind me of my father.”
That made him positively gleeful. Of course, an arrogant psychopath like him would relish a girl with daddy issues.
He laughed again, and I hated that it was a pleasant sound. Low, smooth, like melted chocolate.
My eye snagged on his watch once more. I couldn’t figure out why it bothered me so much.
And then I realized why.
His watch wasn’t moving.
The hands were frozen, stuck on 10 and 2. My father’s watch also didn’t have that tiny engraving at the bottom.
Those tiny engravings that looked exactly like…
“Enough.”
I jolted, my eyes swinging up wide. “Sorry?”
“Let’s cut the chit-chat.” Peter stood up so quickly that I found myself pinned against the back of the opposite seat. “I know what you want.”
Shit, shit, shit.
He stared down at me, a challenge in his eyes. Your move, that look said.
It was too late to back down now. If I was right, the watch was the key. And if I played my cards right, I could get close enough to take it for myself.
“I want to continue our conversation,” I said, smiling. I imagined he smelled the fear wafting off me in waves. “Do you, um, want to—”
“Yes,” he said abruptly. “I want to fuck you.”
Oh my god.
I glanced around, hoping no one had heard him. Again, he didn’t seem to care. He believed we were still playing his game. He was in control, and I was just the pawn.
“Okay,” I said with a secretive smile. “Just, uh, follow me?”
My knees turned rubbery as I moved back into the aisle and strolled toward the bathroom. He followed me silently, so silently that I was tempted to check and see if he’d moved at all.
But I didn’t. I knew if I looked back and saw his hunger, his dark intentions, I’d chicken out.
I walked past Ryle, who gave me a wide-eyed look that screamed: What the hell are you doing?
I was going off-script.
Of course, locking myself in a confined space with a sadistic murderer probably wasn’t the smartest move.
But I wasn’t going in alone. Not really. Ryle knew, and Madoc was watching. He was always watching.
With that, I opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. Peter slipped in after me, already shedding his jacket. The door shut behind him, lock clicking in place.
“I don’t want to talk,” Peter said. His voice had changed, becoming darker, more predatory. “Turn around.”
Then he rolled up his sleeves, carefully, methodically. I glanced at his watch again, but his words distracted me.
“Why?” I asked.
“Turn. Around,” he repeated, like I was stupid. “I’m going to give you what you want.”
Terror flooded through me. My legs almost gave out. Slowly, every cell in my body protesting, I turned around, giving him my back.
His hand immediately found the nape of my neck. He shoved me forward, bending me over the vanity. My breath left me in a shaky gasp.
Oh god. Oh god.
His hand was rough on my skin, drawing up my skirt until it was bunched at my lower back. He pushed my panties aside, so I was completely exposed to him.
He didn’t give me a second to breathe.
I heard him fumble with fabric, then the snap of a waistband.
Was I really going to let him fuck me? Like this? For this?
No! My mind screamed.
I braced my hands on the vanity and pushed up. He immediately pushed back, shoving me so hard that the vanity edge cut into my chest.
“W-Wait. I’ve changed my mind. Wait. Just wait.”
Then his hand came down, slamming over mine, pinning it to the sink. The watch glared at me. I was so close that I could see every part of it.
And knew with certainty that it was a fake. A good fake.
The little engraving was a line of numbers, like a code.
Or a passkey.
Then he was leaning over me, lining himself up, and my mind went completely blank. I felt his cock drag against the back of my thigh.
“Tell me something,” he whispered in my ear. “Who are you really working for?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying I’d misheard him. His cock jutted hard against me, a warning.
“CIA?” he asked softly. “FBI?”
“N-No.”
His weight turned crushing, pressing out the last remaining air from my lungs. Panic turned my vision hazy.
“Not the feds,” he murmured into my ear like a terrible lover. “Someone on the other side, then. Which one?”
I gasped, my heart pounding harder at the lack of air.
“The Romanos?” He asked. “The Germans? Dr.Z?”
I shook my head.
He paused, then, as if something else had occurred to him. His weight shifted, not freeing me, but allowing just enough oxygen to stay conscious.
To stay talking.
“The Duchess?” His voice held a tremor of something. Fear? Awe? My poor, oxygen-starved brain couldn’t compute it. “Are you one of hers?”
His hand slipped, gripping my hip exactly like Jax. I almost sobbed. Jax.
God, what would he think if he knew what I’d done? If he saw me like this?
He would kill Peter, and then he’d probably kill me. I pushed up again, trying to buck him off. He overpowered me effortlessly, like I was nothing. Like I was barely a person.
Peter dragged his tongue over my ear. “You will think of your father,” he whispered. “You will think of him, and you will scream his name when I’m pounding inside you—”
No. No no no.
I arched forward and sunk my teeth into his wrist. He hissed and jerked back. I spun around, ripping down my skirt.
Peter nursed his arm, his face completely blank.
Then, a slow, awful smile curled his lips. “You’re going to regret that.”