15. JAX
JAX
Ryle was waiting for us in the first-class cabin. He’d clearly taken advantage of the perks—the snacks had been raided, the champagne drunk, the magazines thoroughly flipped and tossed aside. He was lounging in my seat, feet kicked up like a spoiled prince.
“You get it?” I asked him, shoving his legs so he was forced to sit up.
Dusting off the cookie crumbs from his shirt, he beamed. “What kind of question is that? Course I fucking got it.”
“Got what?” Olivia asked, suspiciously.
Ryle glanced at her, then back at me, brow inching up in question. I nodded. There was no point hiding it from her. We were in the shit storm together. A tentative truce. I was under no illusion it would last.
Ryle lifted his shirt, revealing a hand-held black device shoved in his waistband. A taser. Knowing him, the safety wasn’t on.
I would’ve preferred a gun, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“Air pig hasn’t even realized it’s gone,” Ryle boasted, pulling down his shirt and reaching into the snack compartment.
“Wait,” Olivia said, flapping her hands incredulously. “Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”
“Depends,” Ryle said slyly. “What do you think I did?”
Olivia gawked at him, then whirled on me. She punched my arm. “You stole from the air marshal?” she hissed.
“We need weapons.”
“Are you insane? Air marshals are federal agents, Jax.”
I gripped her chin, stopping her fretting. She stilled, her eyes narrowing. But she didn’t push me away. “Desperate times, princess,” I reminded her. “We’re not playing around.”
She conceded that with a huff.
Ryle munched on loudly. “Where’s the other bread in this sandwich?”
Both Olivia and I frowned at him. “You mean Madoc?”
“Who else?” The kid grinned toothily. He tossed a cookie in the air, opening his mouth to catch it. I caught it in my fist and crushed it into dust.
“Not the time, moron.”
“Buzz kill.” He slouched down. “Hey, do you think Nate—”
“No,” I snapped, cutting him off. The last thing I wanted to do was discuss Nate. I had a big enough headache with the idiots around me.
Ryle sighed, knowing better than to push it. I sprinkled the crumbs on his head, making him swat at me.
Then I heard that nightmare-inducing voice: “Noah? Is that you?”
Biting back a groan, I turned toward the cabin entrance. At the sight of Martha, pink-robed and glassy-eyed, Olivia puffed up beside me like a pissy cat. I pinched her hip, causing her to hiss.
“There you are, darling.” Martha sauntered toward me, fresh martini in hand. The woman could drink. I’d give her that. I’d be impressed if she wasn’t so fucking obnoxious. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
“I bet,” I muttered.
Ryle was cackling like a giddy clown, eating it up. Stoking the fire, he whispered to Olivia: “Jax has a thing for cougars.”
“Does he.” Olivia turned to me, daggering me with her eyes. “How interesting.”
I flipped Ryle off behind her back. “Ignore him. I’ll handle this.”
“Yeah, you will,” Ryle hooted. I reminded myself to come back and kick him in the balls.
“Watch her,” I growled at him, then forcefully moved Olivia into the pod with him. “You. Stay. I fucking mean it this time. No more adventures.”
The priss had gone cold on me, turning her shoulder like she hadn’t heard me.
Did we have time for this? No.
But, fuck, if I didn’t like her jealousy.
I met Martha halfway, deciding to set the record straight once and for all.
But that hinged on my ability to get a word in edgewise.
“I just had the most fascinating conversation about you, Noah. I’m glad you came back when you did. Won’t you come and have a drink with us? Loosen up a bit?”
“Listen, Mar—whatever your name is. I don’t want to…” I trailed off. Frowning, I repeated her slurred words in my head. “Who is us?”
“Hmm?” Martha swayed, reaching out to steady herself on my arm.
I allowed it, even knowing Olivia was probably seething inside. Worth it.
“You said us. Have a drink with us. Who the hell are you talking about?”
“The gentleman at the bar. Sharply dressed man. Not as handsome as you, of course, but still quite charming.” She took a clumsy sip.
My jaw clenched. “This charming fucker wearing a dark green suit and a lapel pin?”
“I believe he is,” Martha said, delighted. “He asked if you would join us. He said he has something special to give you.” Her mascara-smudged eyes sparkled. “What could it be, I wonder?”
Something special to give me?
What the fuck was he playing at?
Shooting Ryle a meaningful look, I followed an overjoyed Martha back to the bar. You’d think a dead passenger and no signal would put a damper on the mood. But the bar was packed, at least a dozen people crowding the bartender. What else was there to do but drink?
“Over here, darling,” Martha said, leading me to one of the padded booths against the wall. There was a small window where I spotted a grim, bruised night sky.
And sitting next to it, a grim, soon-to-be-bruised Viper.
“Noah,” he greeted me, smiling pleasantly. “Good to see you. Come, sit.”
“The fuck do you want?”
“You know what I want. Now it is time to deliver it.”
I snarled down at him. “Over my dead fucking body.” I turned to leave when his laughter stopped me cold.
“Oh, I wouldn’t go just yet,” he chuckled, tapping his hand on the table. That was when I noticed the details of his ring properly. Solid gold and oval-faced, like a Super Bowl ring. Something about it splintered my memory, but nothing stuck. “We must not forget our manners. People are watching.”
The threat was loud and clear. I was surrounded by loaded guns, even if I couldn’t see them.
I shoved myself into the booth next to Martha, who wasted no time plastering herself against my shoulder.
The Viper smiled as he tipped a bottle of whiskey into two shot glasses. “This is Japanese whiskey,” he said, as if I’d fucking asked. Or cared. “You will drink with me.”
I stared at it flatly.
“So paranoid,” he chuckled. To prove a point, he tipped a shot back into his mouth and swallowed it in one easy go. “See?” he smirked. “Still not poison.”
Beside me, Martha laughed. “He’s so tense,” she said, nudging at my shoulder. “Go on, Noah.”
I didn’t move an inch.
The Viper smiled again, as if amused by my resistance. “How about we play a game instead?”
“How about you kiss my ass?”
Martha snorted into her drink, causing it to spill everywhere. “Oh, silly me.” I flinched when her hands fussed over my now saturated lap.
Amused, the Viper reached into his jacket. I tensed again, expecting a gun. Or a fucking live snake. He was clearly a fan of theatrics.
What he pulled out instead was a single brass coin.
“5-yen,” he said, twirling it between his fingers. “The coin of good fortune. Are you feeling lucky, Noah?”
No. I wasn’t. Not when the game was rigged, and my opponent was a murderous lunatic.
Taking my silence as consensus, he tossed the coin into the air and let it hit the table like a bullet shell. Then he slapped his hand on top of it, covering it. “This was my favorite game as a boy, simple as it is. Sometimes, simple is better. Less…chaos.”
I narrowed my eyes and considered dousing the fucker in his drink.
“Heads or tails?”
I said nothing, but Martha spoke for me. “Head, dear. We like head.”
The Viper’s brow arched. “Last chance, Noah. What do you say?”
Something was wrong. An uneasy feeling crawled into my gut. “What are the stakes?”
“Ah. So glad you asked.” Keeping his hand on the coin, he poured himself another shot. “Choose wrong, you lose. Choose right, you take a drink.”
“That’s it?”
“Not quite.” His smile took on a cutting edge, a hint of venom bleeding through.
My fists clenched under the table. I was tempted to launch out of the bar and check on my people, but that was what he wanted. Me spooked. Me nervous. I stayed in my seat with a wet lap and a stony expression.
There was more to the game. A hidden gun I couldn’t see, a bomb waiting to be detonated. I wasn’t a gambler. I played the odds and hedged my bets. I never considered myself lucky. I sure as shit wasn’t feeling lucky now.
“It is clear to me,” the Viper went on, conversationally, “that you don’t intend to honor our deal—of course, what else could I expect from a dishonorable thief?”
“I never agreed to any deal.”
“So you say, but you have no other options. Now you have forced my hand.”
I swallowed, glancing around suspiciously. What the hell did that mean?
Martha pawed at my arm, finding my bicep tensed and ready to cock.
The Viper smiled. “Relax, Noah. I want to give you a chance to win back my goodwill.”
“Or what?” I challenged. “What will you do if I walk away?”
The Viper tilted his head, as if pondering the question. His eyes flicking to Martha, he said to her: “It is a shame what happened to that man in economy.”
In other words: I’ll keep killing the passengers.
Oblivious to the insidious undertone, Martha nodded dumbly. “Yes, very sad, indeed. I’m surprised a large plane like this one doesn’t employ an onboard physician. Perhaps I’ll draft a letter—”
“No,” I snapped, pounding my fist on the table. “No fucking way.”
“There it is,” the Viper mused, turning his sharpened gaze back to me. “That bleeding heart. You care about them. All those innocent people out there.”
“Some of them are innocent.”
“Not to me. Collateral is collateral.”
I gripped the table, hard enough to make my knuckles bleach. I knew what was coming, but the dramatic asshole couldn’t help but narrate it: “We will play seven rounds. Seven rounds for seven lives, innocent or not. Walk away, and they all expire.”
“Why seven?”
“Because, Noah, seven is my lucky number.”
Jaw clenching, I looked around the bar again. A dozen people, drinking, oblivious. Not to mention the five hundred other sods who had no idea that death was coming for them.
My eyes shuddered close.
“Heads or tails, Noah?”
There had to be another way. My brain crunched, pain shooting through my temples like a tightening band.
Fuck.
The Viper chuckled. “How about I call this one for you? Heads.” I tensed and opened my eyes, unable to not look.
He lifted his hand. “Fortune smiles. Heads.”
I exhaled.