Oh, and they needed to get to the bottom of it.
Immediately.
* * * L I T T L E M O O N * * *
Airport
Flight Time
What was the worst part of flying for Julian?
The dead.
Oh, and not his.
The second he reached the airport, and the dead knew he was there, and could see him…
The shitshow began.
All around him, he was swarmed, so he had to close his doors and pray for some sort of miracle.
You never realized how much you missed flying on a jet until you were trapped on a commercial flight in coach.
Damn.
He wished his wife, and the women, sent the jet back to Boston so he could avoid this. It freaked him out when he felt like he was being watched.
His skin was crawling, and knew that once onboard, the dead were following. What had him twitchy was that one cranky ghost, and they could take down a flight.
No one wanted that.
As he sat there, he closed his eyes, and tried to meditate. Lucian and Ridge had tried to teach him, but he had the patience of… well, him.
It wasn’t working.
When he felt someone near him, he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he was praying for calm, and a flight that didn’t go down over Kansas.
It was the little things in life.
It was when someone kissed him on the cheek that he was startled from his meditative trance.
When he looked over, Wynter was beside him.
“Jesus. Don’t do that to a man, Wyn. I’m here battling the dead and trying not to have a full-blown panic attack.”
She laughed.
“Oh, so you don’t want to catch a flight on one of Ridge’s jets with me? I’m going to see him.”
Julian blinked.
“Uh, why are you going? And don’t take that as a no because it’s an emphatic yes. I’m just confused.”
“Well, there was an issue.”
His heart began thumping.
“What did my wife do?” he asked, pulling his phone from his pocket. He turned it off an hour ago as he prepared to fly.