Chapter 8 Helena
HELENA
If this career had taught me anything, it was the ability to hit the ground running in any situation.
But trying to remember if, in my sleep-deprived state, I had packed underwear in the frantic twenty minutes before leaving was not on the list of things I thought I needed to be ready for as we were driven toward the international airport.
“Here.” Erryn handed me a passport, thumbing her own open to check the details. “I’m Elaine Patterson,” she said. “Check your name and date of birth in case they ask you at passport control.”
“Beatrice Kennedy, born January fifth, nineteen ninety,” I read. “Is this legitimate?”
That earned me a raised brow. “You think I would risk half-assed forgeries?” she asked as she brought up an email on her phone. “We have VIP priority boarding and security, but don’t take any chances with weapons. We have agents meeting us on the other side with arms for us both.”
I swore under my breath as I removed the blade from my boot and the shuriken tucked into my belt, placing them in the canvas bag Erryn held out to me.
“Interesting choices,” she muttered.
“I work better hands on,” I said, freeing another small blade from a sheath behind my shoulder and dropping that in too. “And for the record, I would like to register my unease at being unarmed while traveling to the city where your colleague was almost abducted.”
“I will add it to the list of things you are discontent about,” Erryn murmured as we pulled up to the terminal.
She grimaced as she surveyed the crowd of people bustling around the entrance, muttering something about how travel in November shouldn’t be this ridiculous.
I slipped out of the seat and went to grab our bags from the trunk of the car.
The cold air bit through my jacket immediately, our breath misting as we hurried through the terminal toward security.
This was my version of hell. It was so peoply. Families dragged screaming children, groups of people milled in the way, and far too many people were wandering around with slack jaws staring up at the screens displaying flight numbers and times.
Erryn strode through the throng as if she had done this a thousand times before, her sleek black suitcase gliding at her side as I followed, keeping a wary eye on anyone who looked at her too closely.
We were fast-tracked through security with a few other expensive-looking people, bypassing the civilians jostling to get into disorganized lines, and Erryn led the way through a separate door into a brightly lit miniature mall that was a hive of activity.
The sudden openness of it made my skin crawl.
Perfume hung heavy in the air, layered over coffee and the scents of a dozen different food outlets, sending hunger pangs straight to my stomach.
Shops bled into one another, glass and chrome and bright lights showcasing a plethora of wares.
Erryn didn’t even glance at them as she headed for a set of frosted glass doors at the far end of the terminal, sectioned off with a velvet rope. She flashed a pass at the desk without breaking stride, and we were waved through yet again, slipping away from the noise and into the VIP lounge.
Inside was calmer. A bar gleamed at one end, already occupied by a handful of well-dressed travelers nursing drinks that were far too generous for the hour, with a buffet of food adjacent.
Erryn chose a seat near the windows, setting her suitcase neatly beside her chair, then pulled her laptop and phone out onto the table and glanced at her watch.
“We board in forty-five minutes, and I have a meeting in ten,” she said.
“Get yourself something to eat. The flight is just over an hour, and I doubt we will have time to stop on the other side until late tonight.” She rose, smoothing a hand down the front of her coat as she crossed to the bar.
I tracked her without meaning to, noting the way people’s attention snagged on her and lingered.
Erryn had a presence about her that made men uncomfortable.
The way she met their gaze unflinchingly and passed over them with no interest seemed to simultaneously intrigue and offend.
Especially expensive-looking men who were not used to being so openly disregarded.
I kept a subtle eye on her as I helped myself to the cooked breakfast options, putting multiple small plates on a tray and filling each with sausages, hash browns, and baked beans—all wonderfully separate from one another—then deposited it at our table before making my way to the bar as well.
Erryn was waiting for her order, half turned away from a man who was eyeing her with more than a little interest. He was in his late forties, with an expensive coat, loose tie, and a glass of something alcoholic already in hand.
He leaned in and said something to her as I approached, and I could see the subtle look of disdain pass across Erryn’s face as she said something short back to him.
I watched the angle of his body shift. The way his hand drifted, gesturing too wide. The way he smiled.
“Oh, it’s never too early for a drink when you are flying.
Those are the rules.” His voice had that obnoxious nasal tone, and as I walked up behind him, I caught the scent of cigar smoke and cologne.
I had killed so many of his type. I knew the ones.
They talked at you with an air of self-righteous disrespect until the second they realized how fucked they were, and then the facade crumpled like wet paper.
Stepping silently around him, I positioned myself between them without touching either.
He stopped short, surprised, eyes flicking up to my face.
“Apologies,” he said, smile widening. “Didn’t realize the lady had company.”
“She does,” I said flatly, raising a hand for the barista, who nodded in acknowledgment from the coffee machine.
He laughed, waving a hand. “Didn’t mean anything by it. Just passing the time. You two pretty ladies flying far?”
Erryn’s mouth tightened. “Excuse us.” She moved to step around him.
“Oh, wait now, I’m just being polite.” He shifted in his seat, his hand lifting to reach for her elbow.
I didn’t think.
My hand came up, fingers wrapping around his wrist, twisting just enough to make the joint protest. He gasped, glass sloshing dangerously.
“Do not touch her,” I said quietly.
His smile vanished, replaced by something sharp and offended. “What the hell—”
I tightened my grip. Not enough to break, but his eyes widened a fraction.
“Beatrice,” Erryn said softly, warning threaded through the name.
I released him immediately, the name itself a reminder of our tenuous position, and stepped back half a pace. The man staggered, clutching his wrist, eyes wide.
“You can’t—” he started.
“Oh, fucking try me,” I murmured so only he could hear.
A hush had fallen around us. I felt it then—the attention wrapped in stillness. The man straightened, indignation warring with embarrassment.
“This is unacceptable,” he snapped, turning toward the barista who had approached with Erryn’s coffee in her hands. “I was assaulted.”
The woman looked between us, assessing. “Sir?”
“She grabbed me,” the man said, pointing. “For no reason.”
“I think you will find that the gentleman was merely reminded of his manners after he was disagreeable when I declined conversation,” Erryn said evenly as she took her cup. She turned to him with a look that was all cold venom. “Would you like to reconsider your complaint?”
The barista’s gaze sharpened on the man. “Sir, you do realize you will not be permitted to board if you are intoxicated?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, a slow blush of anger climbing his neck.
“Bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed off his seat.
I stepped in front of him, his drink sloshing down his shirt as he jerked to a stop a hair’s breadth from me, so close I could see his pupils shrink.
“Want to say that again and see what happens, princess?” I ran my eyes down the wet front of his shirt. “Seeing as you are already a mess.”
“Helena,” Erryn murmured. And fuck if my name on her lips didn’t instantly quell the volatile rage that had risen. I stepped aside, casting her a glance, and caught a flash of approval in her eyes before she turned and went back to the table without a backward glance at the man who hurried past me.
He turned, giving me a look of hatred, and I blew him a kiss before following Erryn.
I didn’t know what she was doing to me, but that fleeting moment of approval was a rush.
I had seen it when she had her hand around my throat, my compliance as much of a drug to her as whatever this was to me.
Then again when I had dropped to my knees at her feet.
And now here. For the first time in my life, I wanted to do whatever I was told, as long as it was at her bidding.