Page 79 of Dash

He raised his hand. One by one, every man in the room also raised their hand, including Dash, who bit down on a smile.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Traitor.”

“If it fits...” He widened his grin.

“All against it?” Javier called out.

Only I raised my hand.

“Majority wins.” Javier taunted me with a smirk.

“Micah hasn’t voted yet,” I pointed out.

“Even if you got two votes—which is far from a sure thing, ’cause I think Bozeman is camp Goddess—you’re still the minority.”

“But—”

“Name picked.” Javier drew a check mark in the air. “The matter’s decided.”

As the cabin attendant collected our dirty dishes, I put my tray table away and I looked at Dash. “You’re the leader here. Can you do something about this?”

“I’m afraid that this is the one thing that’s out of my hands.”

I scrunched my nose at him. “That’s such a brass thing to say.”

“I guess I am the brass here.” He smiled. “As such, I’m ordering you to go take a nap.”

“A nap?” I drew back. “I don’t need a nap.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Why me?” I gestured to the small crowd of giants aroundme. “Why aren’t you ordering all of them to take a nap?”

“Excellent point.” Dash moved his stare over the others. “Take a nap.”

In unison, all the men closed their eyes and collapsed, pretending to be asleep.

“Ha, ha, very funny.” I clapped even though none of the guys moved. “What do I have to do to get some support over here?”

“Cookies.” Javier opened one eye. “We all love cookies. Except Bozeman. He eats babies for dessert. Sorry, Goddess, but the boss is right. You look exhausted.” He shut his eye and upped the ante by pretending to snore.

“Fine.” Imitating the others, I eased back in my seat, laced my hands together, and closed my eyes. If they could play this game, so could I.

When I next opened my eyes, the pilot’s voice was coming over the speakers, asking us to fasten our seatbelts. Blinking off sleep, I looked around. Like a litter of big and brawny puppies, the guys sprawled all over the plane. They stretched out on sofas and seats, all clean, all wearing the scrubs. The cabin resonated with the rustles of big bodies repositioning for landing and the clicks of seatbelts going into buckles.

Much had happened since I closed my eyes. My seat had been reclined, a pillow cradled my head, and a soft blanket covered me. I didn’t have to guess who’d done those things for me. Dash had been right. I’d been exhausted. I’d slept for the duration of the trip.

I yawned, pressed the button to return my seat to the landing position, and sat up. Glancing out the window, the morning sun illuminated the familiar private airstrip. My heart felt hollow, and a sense of panic overwhelmed me for a moment.

Dash reached over, took my hand, and gave me a nod. And yet not even his reassuring touch alleviated the eerie senseof foreboding that tightened my chest and weighed down my stomach.

After all these years trapped in the concrete cities of the East, after what felt like a lifetime of denying myself a visit to the land that held my roots, I was about to return to my point of origin, to the place where it had all begun, to a mansion full of memories and worse, empty of my sisters.

Chapter Twenty-two

Dash

Feeling as if I’d been caught in a time warp, I stood at the far end of the parking plaza, staring at the enormous house that conjured some of the best and worst memories of my life. The place was as huge, ornate, and ostentatious as I remembered. Built to rival the extravagant estates of the gilded age, Richard Astor had designed it to impress, intimidate, and overwhelm his subjects with the impact of his wealth and power.

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