Chapter Thirteen

L ayne started to unfasten her seatbelt. Carson brought his hand down on her forearm, his long fingers stopping any movement.

"We're not leaving the plane." He stood and skirted past her to reach the aisle. "I'm going to speak to the pilot."

"Carson—" It was no use. He was already striding toward the cockpit in long, quick steps, a man with a purpose.

She was barely awake, let alone coherent. She'd just changed several time zones and that always messed with her.

But she was with it enough to know that something was majorly wrong.

Carson's back was to her when he yanked open the sliding barrier between the pilots and the passengers. His low, urgent tone had her whipping off her seatbelt and her back going ramrod straight.

While she couldn't make out Carson's words, she heard the pilot's loud and clear. "We need to service. Fuel up. After long flights, we have a checklist. It's protocol."

Carson argued with the pilot, his growly tone too low to hear.

"I'm not going to be responsible for killing a billionaire."

Layne sat back in her seat, spine pinned to the leather.

Billionaire?

It made so much more sense now. The private jet decked out in top-grade leather. The way that everyone stopped and listened when Carson called the shots.

As if he felt her stare burning into his back, he swung to pierce her in his gaze.

She mouthed, Billionaire?

He turned away, giving the pilot his attention and continuing to argue with him. After a few more moments, he stomped down the aisle to her.

She shot to her feet. "Carson, what is going on?"

"I've got money."

It took her a moment to catch up with his brain. Shaking her head, she said, "I didn't mean that. I mean what is happening that you want to leave Italy? We just touched down. What was that phone call you took?"

With each question she fired off, her voice rose in pitch as fear claimed her. She thought they had left Wyoming to reach safety. Now here they were in another bad situation.

He had his phone out, thumbs darting over the keyboard.

"Carson—"

"Give me a minute."

She wrapped her arms around herself. Her thick cardigan sweater was perfect for chilly airplanes, but it didn't shield her from the icy fear moving through her.

Carson released one of his trademark grunts. The man had a language all of his own, comprised just of sounds he made. A certain low clearing of his throat indicated that he wanted to argue but would refrain. That wasn't the grunt she just heard, though.

The one she'd heard sent goose bumps skittering down her arms without him muttering a single word.

She grabbed his forearm. "Carson! What is going on?"

He raised his head from his phone and looked her dead in the eyes. "We're catching a cab."

"To where?"

"We're going to a hotel for the night—or for the day, with the time change." He pocketed his phone and started pulling their luggage out of the overhead compartment.

She grabbed her handbag and slipped the long strap across her body. "Tell me what's happening."

He shot her a look as if struggling to decide how much to tell her, if anything at all.

Squaring her shoulders, she riveted her gaze on him. "Who called?"

"Denver," he bit off, yanking up the handle of her rolling luggage.

"Your brother Denver?"

"Yes."

Again, she fought with her vision of Denver, who had been an annoying young kid when she and Carson started spending time together during their summers in Wyoming. She shook her head to dispel the image of the shaggy-haired, bratty boy who liked shooting foam darts at them through his toy blaster or putting frogs in her lemonade glass.

"What did Denver want?"

"A matter of national security is going down here. Right now. He advised us to turn the plane around and leave."

She sputtered. "What kind of matter? Like a bombing?"

"I'm not privy to that information—he just dropped into a battle zone somewhere in the country."

Her jaw dropped. No way was that little boy she'd known jumping out of planes now.

She shook herself. The real issue wasn't merging her memory of the Malone family with her current knowledge of them—it was that it wasn't safe here.

There was no place safe for her at all.

Whatever he saw on her face made him reach out and hook his arm around her back. He crushed her against his chest and buried his face in her hair. She felt the kiss he pressed there before he released her.

"Let's go. The cab should be here."

The next few minutes were a whirlwind of the flight crew bidding them goodbye and letting Carson know when the jet would be ready for their return flight.

He bundled her into the cab and it shot into heavy traffic. Streets were closed. There were several detours.

"I don't like this." Carson's dark tone sent a shiver through her. His body seemed to hum with tension.

In fluent Italian, she asked the driver what was going on with all the detours and closed streets.

Carson glanced at her in surprise but said nothing.

The driver responded that he thought there was an accident ahead that had blocked several streets. He pointed at the flashing lights of emergency vehicles just beyond the barricade at the end of the street.

She continued to make small talk, hoping to put the driver and Carson both at ease—and distract herself from the nexus of fear in her own heart too.

First they ran from a stalker who had sent her two terrifying gifts now. It seemed they had jumped from a fire into an inferno by choosing a city in the throes of chaos.

Just as the driver turned a corner, a white flash preceded a deafening boom of an explosion.

In Italian, Carson shot off orders for him to drive. Fast. Now.

The driver didn't even have time to react before something hard slammed into the side of the car. The crunch of metal and the shattering noise of glass made her cry out. She threw her arms up to protect herself, but Carson had already hurled his body over hers as a human shield.

She peeked out from under his arm to see the driver sitting up from where he'd been thrown against the door from the impact. Recovering quickly from the crash, he rolled down his window and shook his fist at the other driver who'd barreled into them.

"Are you all right?" he asked Layne and Carson.

"Yes. Just get us the fuck out of here." Carson slowly unwound his arms from Layne. When she saw the blood streaming down his face from a jagged cut, the result of the broken side window, she cried out.

He swiped a finger over the wound slick with blood. With a wince, she unzipped her purse and fumbled for a small packet of tissues. She pulled out a wad and pressed it to his cheek.

"Get us back to the airport. If you can do it without getting into another accident, there's another hundred euros in it for you," he grated out to the driver in Italian just as fluent as hers.

Applying pressure to his wound to staunch the flow of blood wasn't how she'd seen her dream trip to Lake Como going.

The city streets were clouded with smoke and debris from whatever had blown up. She tried not to be a backseat driver as their vehicle backed up from the tight spot between traffic and the car that just slammed into them. He reversed at a speed that was straight out of a movie. Then whipped the car forward and shot off into an alley so narrow that she braced herself for another impact when they inevitably would get wedged between the old buildings.

The tissue grew soaked with Carson's blood. Hand trembling, she pulled it away. A fresh welling of blood made her dizzy, but she managed to press another wad of tissue over the cut.

True to his promise, Carson awarded the driver with the hefty tip once they reached the section of the small airport where the jet was waiting. She wasn't terribly surprised to see Carson was steady as ever when he got out of the vehicle, and positioned his body to protect her from any unseen attacks.

None came. When they boarded the plane and their luggage was back on board too, she looked to the pilot. "I need a first-aid kit."

He took one look at Carson and nodded. There wasn't any alarm in the man's eyes, which settled her own nerves. A moment later, he produced a box of supplies, and she made Carson sit in one of the plush seats so she could tend his wound.

Standing in the aisle, she got out the bandages and antiseptic she'd need. Hovering over him, she dabbed gently at the gash with a thick wedge of gauze.

"What just happened to us?" Her voice came out unsteady. Her knees felt like jelly, and she leaned against his muscled thigh for support.

He lifted a hand and anchored her against him while she worked, checking the cut for shards of glass. She did see one glint in the overhead lights and reached for a set of tweezers.

With her lip trapped between her teeth, she fished out the glass as carefully as possible so as not to cause him more pain.

"Got it." She looked up into his eyes, the small spear of glass gripped between the prongs of the tweezers.

Her breath rushed out of her at the expression on Carson's face. He looked like…

Like he wanted her.

Like he… loved her.

* * * * *

Carson managed to endure the time it took for Layne to bandage him up, place everything back inside the first-aid kit and dispose of the bloody gauze. Each precise move she made to complete the task was a nod to the woman he knew.

The woman he wanted sliding down his cock.

As she stashed the kit under a seat, the pilot announced that they would be taxiing to the runway.

Layne moved to slip into the seat beside him, but before she could, he grabbed her, trapping her between his knees.

Her stare roamed over his face, lingering on the bandage she'd just patched him up with. She brushed her fingertips over the skin below it, tenderness glowing in her eyes.

He pulled her across his knees, and she let out a yelp of surprise. She slid her arms around his neck and leaned close.

"Layne. There's something I need to tell you."

She stilled. He swore he felt her heart pounding against his chest.

He threaded his fingers into her hair, holding her prisoner. Looking into her eyes, he spoke the words he wanted to all those years ago but only managed to get out in letters after their parting.

Until the time when everything ended and he no longer had the right to say it to her.

"Layne…I love you."

A small puff of air burst from her lips. Her eyes darted from one to the other, as if she might see the truth in one and a lie in another.

She cupped his jaw and pressed a fervent kiss to his lips. "I love you. Oh god, I do. I told you I never stopped and it's true!"

Moaning, he pulled her into the kiss, capturing her lips until she melted against him. He'd lost her once. He could have lost her today. If they'd been running even a minute sooner, they would have been in the middle of that explosion. He still had no clue what happened back in that city, and he didn't care either. It wasn't his problem anymore, though he hoped like hell he'd hear from Denver very soon.

The open wound left by their separation seemed to close as he and Layne kissed. The pain dissolved, replaced by a sweet longing that soon morphed to red-hot desire.

Between kisses, she tore her lips away. "We're about to take off."

"And?" He bit into her plump bottom lip, tugging it gently until she issued a low moan.

"I should fasten my seatbelt."

"We should unfasten my jeans so you can sit on my cock."

She drew back with a small giggle. "We can't…" She looked around at the empty seats in the jet that he owned, realizing that they could .

In a flurry, she tore off her boots and stood so she could shimmy out of her leggings and panties, while he held her by the waist and kissed her every time she came close enough.

Passion thundered between them. When he reclined his seat all the way back, she laughed and straddled him.

"This is where you belong." He held her close. In one thrust, he filled her pussy with his throbbing cock.

"Oh god! Carson!" She flattened her body over his and rocked her hips, drawing his length through her heated walls.

The plane engine whirred louder and louder as they got up speed to soar into the air.

"I never thought I'd be part of the mile-high club." She took him to the root once more, eyes squeezing shut in bliss.

He rolled his hips and almost came at the tight feel of her gripping his cock. "We're not a mile up yet."

"Then we'll have to do it again later!"

God, could he be more in love with this woman? A cruel twist of fate had torn them apart, but he'd beat the odds and won her back.

As the jet pitched upward, he felt Layne's pussy begin to clench. Tight, then tighter. A breathless scream left her.

His own release surged out of him in sharp spurts. Love overflowed, and he told her with his kiss.

After long minutes, she collapsed on top of him. He clasped her in place as the jet leveled out.

"Nothing will ever separate me from you again."

She brushed a kiss over his neck where his pulse still hammered. "You really will put your life on the line for me."

"Don't ever question that, Layne. I was built for this moment. I trained for it." He smoothed his hand over her round ass. "I will protect you until the last breath leaves my body."