3. Bear

3

BEAR

I try to hide my smirk when I see Samantha walking down the aisle of the airplane. I had no doubt that she would come. It's in her nature, and she's not a quitter. There's no way she would bypass her responsibility. This is part of her job, and as far as I can tell, she loves this job. Plus, she’s not the type that could live with it on her conscience knowing she could help other women and then not doing it.

I scoot my legs in as she moves into the seat next to me. When she sits down, it's apparent how much bigger I am than her. I try to scrunch in my shoulders and arms so as not to touch her. Touching her is not a good thing. My body reacts just being close to her; touching her would be a whole new ballgame. I inhale deeply and then wish I hadn’t. She has on that soft floral scent that has my balls drawing in tight and my cock lengthening in my jeans. Fuck, let’s get the plane in the air already. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get some space between us. Not that I’m going to let her out of my sight or anything, but yeah, I at least need her out of arms’ length. It’s either that or I’m going to do something that will embarrass us both.

She huffs loudly as if she’s letting me know she hasn’t forgotten yesterday and hands me a file. Her words are very clipped, and it's obvious that she is still mad at me. “I'm here,” she says.

I nod and look at her. “I'm glad you came.”

She obviously expected me to say something else because her face softens, and then as if she catches herself, she instantly goes into work mode. I can’t really blame her for being mad. She’s tried to prove herself ever since she got to the team. And I know that I came across as an asshole by having Logan taken off the job so that I could go, but I'm not really ready to explain my reasoning yet.

I open the file and start to scan all the pertinent information of this mission. My name is Liam Smith. I'm thirty-five years old. I own a construction company. It then goes on to talk about my wife Samantha Smith. She's thirty-two. She's a stay-at-home mom to our two children. I keep reading and notice that we are on a vacation for our five-year anniversary.

I pat the pocket of my shirt and pull out the diamond ring I’ve had there since I boarded the plane. I hand it over to her with a gruff “here.”

She holds her hand out, and I drop the box in her hand. Her eyes go from me to the box and then me again. I nod my head, gesturing for her to open it. When she does, she gasps loudly before looking around at everyone that is sitting down and getting their seatbelts on. She ducks her head, holding up the ring as if letting the light shine off of it. She whispers to me, “This is so beautiful. Where did Nash get this at? It probably set him back quite a bit.” She takes it out and puts it on her finger. “Surely the jeweler will let him return it, though.”

I should probably leave it alone and let her think what she thinks. But that's not in my nature. “I bought it,” I say and watch her eyes widen.

To say she’s surprised is putting it mildly. She tries to take it off, and I put my hand out to stop her. My hand wraps around hers easily. I ignore the spark that shoots up my arm and watch as she shakes her head.

“But...” She shakes her head, her eyes wide. “What if something happens? I can't risk losing it.”

I squeeze her hand gently. “No. Please don't take it off. Nothing's going to happen.”

She tilts her head and says a little louder this time, “You don't know that. Anything can happen in this line of work. You know that, and I'm not willing to risk losing your ring. Why do you even have a ring like this?” She sits back, eyes wide, and gasps. “Oh my God, am I wearing your ex-girlfriend’s ring or something?”

“No,” I tell her instantly. I mean, what kind of man does she think I am? As if I’d ever put another woman’s ring on her finger. Fuck, at this point I can’t even remember any woman before her... at least I don’t want to.

I take my hand back and drop it to the file in my lap. I'm definitely not going to be getting into all of that with her. She doesn't need to know that I picked this ring up the day that I met her. Even to me, that sounds crazy. She’d probably go running off the plane if she found out. Probably even put out a restraining order, and I can’t say I’d blame her.

She waves her hand in front of my face. “Bear... Earth to Bear. Are you going to explain this to me?”

I shrug my shoulders as if it doesn't matter to me at all. “It's done now, and we don't have a choice. These are the rings that we have to wear.” I show her my hand with the matching wedding band.

She wants to keep arguing with me or at least get answers, but when I give her the look—the one that says I’m not going to give in—she finally shrugs in defeat. She gives up, knowing that I'm not going to give her an answer, and she shoves the ring back firmly onto her finger.

“I told Nash I’d take care of it, and I did,” I tell her as if that’s enough reason.

Her hands start to fidget in her lap. “Is this how this is going to be? You're going to tell me what is going to happen, and you just expect me to go along with it? I'm not made that way. That's not who I am. I'm independent and don't appreciate being told what to do, how to do it, or when to do it.”

I look around at the passengers around us, and I don't take the bait. I'm not going to get into an argument with her here. I don't want to argue with her. So when she finishes, I just smirk, which probably pisses her off more. But it’s either I piss her off or I kiss her. I’m willing to bet the latter wouldn’t end well. “Is this our first argument as husband and wife?”

She rolls her eyes and takes a deep breath. I can tell she’s trying to get herself together, which I hate because I like it when she gets all riled up.

Sam

I lean back in my seat and take three calming breaths. I've had my eyes on Bear ever since I spotted him from the front of the plane and then had to climb over him to get to my seat. Obviously, I'm taking everything to heart and being erratic, because just being this close to him is messing with all of my senses. He's a big man. I know he's a big man. But sitting next to him, this close, just makes me feel dainty and petite... and protected. A part of me hates that feeling. I've never thought about it this way, but I’m not the type of woman that wants to be protected. At least I didn’t think I was. But here I am sitting next to this big, alpha man and loving how it makes me feel. Maybe I don’t want just any man to be protective of me. But Bear I do. When I get myself together, I look down at the file instead of at him. That’s all I need is for him to read the attraction on my face, and this whole thing will be over before it even begins. “You're right, Bear. We're here for a job. So we need to do it and then get back to Whiskey Run.”

I open my file and start reading it and try to memorize everything I’m going to need to know for this mission. As I read through it, I call out some minor details that I'm catching on that maybe both of us need to be aware of. “It says we have two daughters.” I pull out the photos and show him. “Chelsea and Caitlin are their names.” He looks at the images and then at me. “Thank God they got your good looks,” he says, and I don't know which one of us is more surprised by that compliment. It causes a weird flutter in my belly, and I take the photos and put them back in the file.

I clear my throat and keep reading. “It says we've been married for five years and this is our five-year anniversary trip. We’re staying at the Playa Del Sol resort.” I smirk. “Fancy. And looks like we got invited to a poker game tonight after dinner.”

I keep reading and mention to Bear, “It looks like Dylan has planted who we are and that we're looking to get into the business.” I look over at Bear. “So I guess that means you are interested in getting into their business.” I say the words without actually saying it. I don't want to talk about human trafficking on the plane, but Bear knows exactly what I'm saying.

He gets a disgusted look on his face and shrugs his shoulders. “I know it's not ideal, but if it means that we can save any of these women, then it's worth it.”

I nod in agreement with him and then go back to reading. “It says we're just here to learn the process and go home.”

Bear grunts, and for the first time, I agree with him. I can't imagine just leaving knowing everything that we're probably going to see tonight. “I know. Me too.”

“Huh?” he asks, surprised.

I just smirk at him. “I’ve learned to read your grunts, Bear. That one you just gave me was, ‘Yeah, that’s what we’re supposed to do—just watch—but I’m not happy about it.’”

He nods his head, and his look softens. I don’t think he’s used to people speaking Bear. “What else?” he asks.

“Well, there's a list of names and different things like that. People that we’ll probably meet or run into, who we should avoid.” I point to the names on the paper, not wanting to say them out loud. But when I look at him, he's not looking at the paper. He’s staring at me, and his look is guarded again. He’s looking at me like it’s painful to even be talking with me. I close the file and fold my hands together on top of it. “You do know that you're going to have to act like you like me, right?” I ask him.

His eyes don't shift from where they’re trained on my face. His facial features don’t change at all; he's just looking at me blankly and shrugs. It doesn't leave me feeling very confident.

“I can do that,” he says.

I nod and laugh, even though a part of me wants to cry. “So you’re telling me you can act like you love me. That I’m your wife you’ve loved and been faithful to for five years.” I shake my head. “You think you can be convincing? Because I have to be honest with you right now, I don’t think you’re going to be able to pull it off.”

He crosses his big, beefy arms across his big chest. I try to ignore the way the stance makes him look even more dominant. “What about you? Can you pull it off? You think people will believe that someone like you is happy with someone like me?”

I jerk, instantly offended. “What do you mean, someone like me?”

He leans forward and whispers, “I mean someone like you. A hot-ass stubborn woman that could have any man you want. You think people will believe you’re happily married to me?” He points at himself with his thumb.

Damn. It takes everything in me not to crawl into his lap right now. Any woman would be blessed to be with Bear. And it won’t be hard at all for me to pretend anything with this man. I pull at my shirt around my neck because suddenly the temperature of the plane just got way hotter. “Yeah,” I squeak and then clear my voice. “I can.”

His eyes never leave mine. “Well, this I can’t wait to fuckin’ see.”

Instead of getting into another argument with him, I just roll my eyes and turn back to the file as if I'm studying it. I want to kick myself. I always go for the emotionally unavailable men, and of course of all the men in Whiskey Run I like the one man that shows zero emotion. He looks as if he's impatient just sitting next to me. How the hell are we going to pull this off? There’s no way people are going to believe we’re happily married. Not like this.