“Damn the man! He needs to get his head in the game and take this threat seriously. And what the hell was up with asking me to take care of Alison? “
Shay leaned back in her seat, enjoying the comfort and space that came with first class. A first-class ticket on a supersonic flight wasn’t cheap, but Brownstone would be paying for it eventually, one way or another.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” came a voice over the speaker. “This is Captain Smith. I regret to inform you that we’ll have to take a detour to Seattle. Storm activity over the Pacific is unusually severe, and we’ve received word there may be some sort of magical fluctuations. We’ll land in Seattle and wait a few hours, then continue on to Los Angeles. We’re sorry for any inconvenience this may cause.”
She was racing back to Los Angeles to help Brownstone. Any delay meant the chance of him doing something stupid or dying increased.
“Brownstone,” she muttered. “Even trying to come home and save you has to be a pain in the ass.”
One more delay and I’m gonna fucking lose it.
The whole point of hopping on a supersonic flight was to get her back to Los Angeles as soon as possible, not get routed to Seattle and wait around for another flight. Now that she was finally on a flight back to her original destination, she still couldn’t relax.
Shay had given the Professor a quick call to inform him she’d be following up on the raid after Brownstone’s issues were settled. He didn’t seem to mind or care. With the artifact having already exploded, the man’s urgency concerning the Ainu carving had vanished.
Even if he didn’t care, the tomb raider cared. She didn’t have time to run off trying to save Brownstone’s ass every time he got in trouble—which had been a lot lately.
Fucking Brownstone. This is shitty timing.
But it wasn’t his fault. It was the damned Harriken.
Shay frowned. The Harriken were idiots. The assholes should have learned their lesson and left the man alone. If the hitmen didn’t take him down, he was only going to come at them again.
And she’d help him.
The tomb raider blinked at the realization. It wasn’t attraction motivating her, even if she didn’t mind a peek or two at Brownstone’s muscles. It was something deeper. Respect.
She didn’t understand a lot of what went on in the bounty hunter’s mind, but between his skills and the way he’d thrown himself into looking after Alison, her esteem kept rising.
Even with half the underworld of LA bearing down on him, Brownstone seemed more concerned with Alison than his own life. It also meant he accepted he might die.
You’re just a man in the end, huh? I can respect that. That fear might just keep you alive. The cocky ones always die in the end.
It shouldn’t have been any of her business if killers came after Brownstone, but she’d made it hers when she helped him assault the Belmont House. She’d had her chance to stay out of it, but had run right into the thick of the killings.
What the fuck ever. Might as well help finish what I started, and I don’t like these cocky Harriken bastards.
Someone yelled a few seats behind her. That was what she got for not shelling out for first-class between Seattle and Los Angeles. Shay might be a foul-mouthed ex-killer, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a travel snob. She’d thought the quick trip from Seattle to Los Angeles wouldn’t necessitate the upgrade.
“Don’t you get it?” the voice yelled. “It’s all a trick. Lemons? Limes? They’re the same damn thing, and I’m tired of everyone pretending otherwise. Wake up, sheeple.”
Shay frowned and looked over her shoulder. A red-faced man gesticulated wildly from his seat at a worried-looking flight attendant. Someone took their citrus very damned seriously.
The flight attendant put a hand in front of her. “There’s no reason to yell. You need to calm down, sir. I think you’ve just had a little too much to drink.”
Perfect. First the damned storm, and now some drunk asshole freaking out. If the man got out of control, the pilot would land the plane early and she’d end up delayed again in some annoying place like Sacramento.
You better calm down if you don’t want me involved, asshole.
The man shoved the flight attendant, and she yelped and fell. The woman scrambled back to her feet.
The drunk shot out of his seat. “Don’t tell me to fucking calm down. I will not fucking calm down! Not while all this bullshit is going on!”
The flight attendant ran toward the front of the plane, her eyes wide.
Shay unbuckled her seatbelt and stood. The universe hated her. Maybe not as much as Brownstone, but still.
“Hey, asshole. That woman asked nicely. I’m telling you rudely. Sit your ass back in that chair and shut your yap, or I will sit you there, and you won’t like how I do it.”
The man rounded on her, his eyes wild. “You don’t tell me what to do. I can talk about fruit all I want. It’s my damned right as an American. What did we even have the Revolution for?”
“Not to debate lemons and limes.” Shay shrugged. “Look, I don’t give a shit what you want to talk about, but you need to sit your ass down so they don’t land this plane before we arrive in Los Angeles. I have an important appointment.”
The man squared his shoulders. “Fuck you, bitch.”
The tomb raider glared at him and moved forward. “Okay, now we’re gonna count down to one. Three…”
“I have the right to express my opinions on lemons and limes! This is America, not Denmark.”
Denmark? Huh? Wait, I can’t get caught up in his bullshit. I need to end this.
“Two…”
The man shook his fist at her. “Who the fuck are you supposed to be, an air marshal? I’ll take this whole plane down if I need to.”
“One.”
