“You okay?” I ask Callum. His knee bounces and jaw ticks. He needs to control himself.
“Two of them inside.” Nodding, I look down at the phone in his hand and the live feed from the back. Once again, two figures, and it’s the woman who’s prying open the container with the relic. “They came in from the top, and their hope is to be out before we leave. There’s a beam above the truck they could climb up and then escape through a window just below the roof line.”
“Electrical?”
“They haven’t noticed it yet.” As soon as he says this, the man moves to open the exit latch they used to get in and quickly snatches his hand back. All movement stops then and they communicate lowly, murmuring to themselves while she waves her hand in a frantic motion. This bothers Callum, but we need to get them out and safe before they can speak.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Seatbelt, and keep your eyes down.” I pull back and out, following the instructions on the pre-set GPS they provided. We’re heading toward the A13 and we’ll deviate paths at the second roundabout, where the brothers will go to a warehouse twenty minutes out and dump these trucks minutes before blowing each up.
No evidence left behind.
The direction has us driving the main road that connects east and central London, but we’ll disappear at Limehouse Link Tunnel. That’s where our connection will cease and so will all the cameras in this area, not one being able to tail our direction.
And that’s what we do until reaching an open field out in the middle of nowhere. No houses, nor are there cars on this road, and after a few minutes of listening to his scanner, Callum rushes out. I’m right behind him when he reaches the door and all but yanks it off its hinges after entering the code of his locking device.
The doors bang open, and inside two people stand with fear in their eyes. What the bloody fuck?
“Aliana, come here.” My cousin’s tone is gravelly, near his limit of patience, and I’m ready to step in if need be. This is my wife’s best friend. A woman that frequents our home, and I’m not understanding why she’s here. How she got herself caught up in this mess. “Baby, please.”
“Callum?” The worry at once evaporates, and she breathes out a heavy exhale. The man beside her calms too, as if he knows who we are. “What are you doing here?”
“Come.” This time it’s harsher, and he doesn’t wait either. He jumps into the truck and takes her in his arms, kissing her before anyone can utter a word. The man beside her laughs a bit and isn’t the least bit worried, but one look at my face has him holding both hands up, and high.
“She’s my little cousin. I couldn’t leave her alone in this.”
“Who the fuck orchestrated this?”
“Callum, please. I just need to—”
“Who, Venus. Tell me, baby.”
“I can’t.” Her tears spring forth then and while he comforts her, I pull out my phone and dial a familiar number.
It rings twice, and then a sleepy breath greets my ears. “Have you picked up my coffee yet?”
“I’ll make sure to get you a venti.”
“Tell me.”
“Get clothes and meet me at Dad’s. Change in plans.”
“What’s wrong?” There’s movement from her end, the rustling of sheets and then running water. She probably ran to the bathroom. “Are you…?”
“I’m fine, but your best friend isn’t.”
“Aliana? What the hell does—”
“She’s involved with some crazy shit and kissing the bloody hell out of Callum as we speak.”
1
MY PERFECT GIRL.
Luna’s asleep before my private plane takes off; she’s cuddled in her giant, fluffy blanket like a burrito with her head peeking out and a sleep mask covering her eyes from my view. There’s no recognition of awareness or even a stir as we taxi down the runway, nothing as I run a finger down her soft cheek and just watch her.
But then again, I do this a lot. Every day. Every moment in her presence.
I sit and stare and thank whoever upstairs decided that our paths should cross.
Because my Luna is more than my wife. She’s the other half of my soul and my moral compass.
“Sir, the captain has given the approval for you to move if you wish.” The stewardess doesn’t wait for my acknowledgment. Instead, she turns toward the area up front where the staff has been told to stay. The plane ride to our destination is just about two hours long, and she’ll need her rest for once we arrive; there won’t be a single moment where her body and mine aren’t connected.
I’m going to lick and eat and fuck my little beauty. My love will be embedded into her DNA like an invisible tattoo—permanent and beautiful by the time we leave.
“Let’s get you comfortable,” I whisper into her ear, and even while under the influence of the sleeping meds, she turns her face to my neck, cuddling into the crook and letting out a soft sigh. Motherfuck, the simple move causes me to jerk harshly behind the zipper of my shorts and for a low growl to leave my lips.
Everything she does turns me on.
Her breathing is coquettish. Her giggles are foreplay.
Carefully, I walk us to the back of the plane and inside our bedroom, laying her on the silk sheets and then unraveling her fluffy blanket. Her burrito status doesn’t leave me room to touch, and that’s unacceptable. She can cuddle the
