Page 23 of Extracted

A green tinge had taken over her usually tanned complexion, and her shoulders were turned forward an inch, as if just standing took too much effort. Part of him wanted to ask if she was feeling okay and to insist she take some ibuprofen because, to his knowledge, she hadn’t touched the bottle.

He’d gotten too sucked in by Gemma, and the fact of the matter was, she didn’t trust him and didn’t want to be near him. She was only here for practical reasons. It almost seemed as if she’d rather have stayed behind in the dumpy motel waiting for the guys from last night to find her and finish the job.

If that wasn’t a stab at his pride, nothing was.

At the end of the day, though, she had every right to have reservations. While she might have royally fucked up his job, he’d royally fuck up her life if she didn’t keep her distance.

A man stepped out of the plane and waved. Dallas bent and slung his bag over his shoulder then picked up Gemma’s. “Let’s go.”

She fell into step beside him, her gait a little labored. She crossed her arms around her middle. “That plane is tiny. How well do you know this guy?”

He smirked again. “I never said I knew him.”

She stopped in her tracks. “You can’t be serious.”

He resisted an eye roll. “Do you know every pilot who flies you around?”

Her body was as tight as a wire. “That’s different.”

The guy approached, his smile bright white in his dark complexion. “Hey, you must be Dallas . . . and? I didn’t know there was another passenger.”

Shit. Dallas held out his hand. “Sorry about that. I picked up a stray.”

Gemma smacked him in the side and glowered. Then she shoved him out of the way and held out her hand. “Gemma. And you are?”

“Eli.” He motioned for them to follow. “We’d better get going. Lorenzo said this was a pressing flight.”

Dallas followed, and Gemma’s reluctance seemed to lessen. The air inside the plane was several degrees warmer, and the four seats, not including the pilot’s, were smooshed close like sardines in a can.

The plane was tiny. One point for Gemma.

Eli shoved two backpacks into Dallas’s arms. “Just in case. Have you ever used a parachute?”

“Oh my god.” Gemma’s eyes bugged out of her head, and her skin turned sallow. “Are you joking?”

Eli’s laugh boomed through the aircraft. “It’s just a precaution, ma’am.”

Her face turned red, and she breathed heavily.

Dallas held out a backpack to her. “No, can’t say I have,” he said to Eli.

“It’s pretty basic.” Eli fit his arms through the straps of the backpack then clipped the buckle in front of his chest. “Put it on like so, jump, and pull the cord—of course, wait until you’re far enough from the plane.”

“What are the odds we’d need to use these?”

Eli waved away Gemma’s question with his hand. “I’ve only needed to once in my nine years of flying.” He shrugged. “It’s a couple hours to Ibarra. We’ll be fine.”

Gemma blew out a breath. “Okay.” She nodded, as if convincing herself the odds were in her favor.

“Sit and relax and we’ll take off in a few.”

Dallas slid into one of the window seats, tucking his parachute behind his feet. All four chairs were spaced, not in rows of two. She took the seat directly across from him, and her fingers pulled at her shirt.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’ll be better when we get to Ecuador.”

That he couldn’t argue with. Gemma buckled her seatbelt and rubbed her hands on the tops of her thighs. He fit his seatbelt over his lap then reached across the aisle that was about as thin as a fucking sliver and swiped his knuckle over her forearm because, goddamn him, he couldn’t resist. “Did you hear back from Charlene?”

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