Chapter 108 Chapter One hundred and seven
Ara
My footsteps dragged slowly as I followed Thayne toward the van parked in the middle of the long row.
His two hands were occupied with our suitcases as he wheeled them out. But every now and then he would look at me like if he didn't look hard enough I would vanish.
His men had traded their usual black tactical gear for plain gray delivery uniforms: cheap polo shirts with a fake logo, worn khakis and ball caps pulled low.
The convoy behind us was disguised too, three unmarked white vans instead of the usual black SUVs. Nothing that screamed money or danger.
Celia had played it smart, I had to give her that. She’d nearly broken my trust in Thayne with those fake pictures, those careful lies.
She’d almost succeeded. If I hadn’t spotted the funny six fingers and the extra hand, the impossible water droplets frozen in perfect symmetry, I might still be doubting him.
Thayne stopped beside the open side door of the middle van. He loaded the suitcases first, then turned to me.
He didn’t speak right away, he just looked at me with those storm-green eyes that always saw too much.
Then he reached inside the van, pulled out a small walkie-talkie, and pressed it into my palm.
“I want you to hear everything my men are saying,” he said quietly.
His fingers closed over mine, then squeezed.
He cupped my jaw with his free hand, brushing the corner of my mouth with his thumb.
Then he leaned down and kissed me like he was trying to pour every unsaid apology into it.
His lips moved against mine with careful hunger, tongue tracing the seam until I opened for him.
One arm slid around my waist, pulling me closer until my body arched out of the van toward him.
My hands fisted in his shirt, holding on like I might never let go.
Someone cleared their throat behind us loudly and awkwardly.
Thayne broke the kiss but didn’t step back. His forehead rested against mine, his breath warm on my lips.
“I’m going to fuck you senseless when we get to New York, Arayna,” he murmured gruffly. “I’m losing it.”
One of his men broke into a stuttering cough, pounding his chest like he was choking on air.
Thayne turned his head just enough to shoot the guy a look that could melt steel and the coughing stopped instantly.
Thayne looked back at me, his eyes dark with everything he hadn’t said yet.
Then he helped me into the backseat, buckling me in himself like I was something precious and breakable.
He climbed in beside me, slammed the door, and knocked twice on the roof.
“Let’s go.”
Thayne’s hand rested on my thigh, his fingers splayed wide, warm through the thin fabric of my leggings.
He began rubbing slow circles, then squeezed, hard enough to make my breath hitch.
The pressure was perfect, reminding me exactly what he’d promised me earlier. His thumb traced the inner seam of my thigh, inching higher with each pass, brushing the sensitive spot just shy of where I was already aching for him.
Wetness was already pooling low between my thighs, and my legs parted a fraction without conscious thought, inviting more.
He noticed. Of course he did. The corner of his mouth lifted in that dark, knowing way that always unraveled me.
I shifted in the seat, trying to press closer to his palm, but he held me still with that single, iron grip.
“Not yet,” his voice was low enough that only I could hear. His fingers flexed again, squeezing once, then sliding higher until the heel of his hand pressed right against my center.
The seam of my leggings rubbed me in the most maddening way, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning.
The van hummed along the private access road, the tires quiet on the tarmac. Outside the tinted windows, I could see the jet waiting on standby.
It unnerved me sometimes when I thought about it, how easy it just was to board a jet because my husband owned it.
“Sir,” The driver said from the front, his voice carefully neutral, as if he was afraid of offending Thayne."We're approaching the jet.”
Thayne didn’t move his hand. He leaned in instead, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“Two hours on that plane,” every hot whisper caused me to grow wetter a little more. “There will be no stops or interruptions. Just you, me, and a locked cabin door.”
His fingers pressed harder, rubbing in a firm, slow circle right where I needed it most.
I gasped softly, my thighs trembling.
“You’re going to be dripping for me by the time we board,” he continued, voice rough with promise. “And when we’re in the air… I’m going to fuck you until you forget every single day you spent thinking I was gone.”
He squeezed again, then released me, sliding his hand away just as the van rolled to a smooth stop beside the jet stairs.
I was breathing hard, my cheeks flushed, my body humming with unspent need.
The hunger in his eyes was clear as he asked, “Ready to go home, little lamb?”
I nodded.
He opened the door, stepped out first, then reached back for me.
I let him lead me up the stairs, straight into the jet, straight into whatever came next.
We heard a loud voice yell from behind, cutting through the low hum of engines and the shuffle of boots on tarmac.
Thayne and I turned at once. His arm snapped around my waist, yanking me behind him in one fluid motion, putting his body between me and whatever was coming.
A black Audi barreled toward us from the far end of the runway. The headlights were blazing in broad daylight, its speed building like it had no intention of stopping.
It was aimed straight at the line of vans, ready to ram the middle one.
Thayne released me in the same second he moved.
He leaped down the jet stairs in two bounds, his boots hitting the concrete hard, and sprinted toward the nearest empty van.
The driver’s door was already open; he slid inside, key fob in hand.
The Audi kept coming, the tires screaming, closing the distance fast.
I held my breath, my fingers digging into the railing as I waited for Thayne to do something.
Thayne revved the engine once, then spun the wheel hard. The van peeled out of the formation, tires smoking, cutting across the tarmac in a wide arc.
The Audi was almost on us now. Thayne floored it. At the last second, when collision seemed inevitable, he swerved sharply.
The van’s side slammed into the Audi’s front quarter panel with a bone-rattling crunch.
Metal shrieked. The Audi fishtailed, spinning wildly. Thayne didn’t let up, he kept the pressure on, forcing the smaller car sideways, pushing it off the runway and onto the grass shoulder.
Sparks flew and tires screeched so loudly that I nearly went deaf.
The Audi slid to a violent stop, half on the grass, half on the asphalt, the front end crumpled, smoke rising from the hood.
Thayne was out of the van before the engine even cut off.
The Audi’s driver door flew open, and Munroe stepped out.
Munroe, who'd betrayed his own best friend.
“You know why I'm here, Thayne.” He said, stretching his arms wide.
“Enlighten me after you're dead.” Thayne deadpanned, pulling out a pistol from his belt and firing the first shot.