Page 60 of The Boss

“Did you just say groovy?”

“I did. Don’t make something of it.” I made the mistake of looking down and the coffee I’d consumed was headed in the up direction. I pulled back, resting my head on the seat. “Just tell me when this is over with.”

“Not long now.”

The not long turned into sixty minutes, but when he communicated with another tower, I tried to take deep breaths. He started his descent and for the life of me, I knew I was ripping holes in the seat.

I blamed him. He didn’t need to do this. What had happened to good old-fashioned boats?

He continued communicating to some tinny sounding voice at the tower. I thought we were almost down when wind caused us to rock to one side.

I almost had my head in his lap, the seatbelt stretching to the breaking point. He was stroking my hair and I groaned. “Hands on the wheel or whatever it’s called. Please.”

His chuckle was even more annoying, but I felt the wheels finally hitting the pavement. I expected some horrible thump or maybe the plane jumping up into the air, but the landing went smoothly.

As he started to slow the throttle, I finally looked again, taking a massive deep breath.

“You didn’t kill us,” I told him.

“I don’t plan on allowing that to happen. You just don’t know all my skills either. Now, do you?”

Touché. He had me there.

I didn’t know squat about him other than what I remembered from so many years before. Maybe that’s what this was all about. Or maybe he’d brought me here to grill me on my knowledge of my brother. Either way, the change of scenery would be welcome.

“When do the guards arrive?” I asked as he rolled into a hangar.

“I was serious. There won’t be any.”

“But what if…” I couldn’t finish my sentence. That had occurred too many times over the last few days.

“Tight security and plenty of weapons.”

“I asked you this before.” I noticed men coming toward the plane, but they looked like workers. “How can you stand to live that way? I bet you keep a gun under your pillow.”

“Those days are mostly gone, Willow. My father did. He didn’t go anywhere without his weapon. But we’re not in a war.” He unfastened his seatbelt, doing mine next as if I couldn’t do that for myself.

“Are you certain of that?”

He laughed in response. “If we are, then I have enough men and firepower to handle it.”

“But the way you’re forced to live is terrifying to me. I bet you look over your shoulder every time you go out.”

“You get used to it, but certainly we’re not always in danger. Besides, this life is all I’ve ever known. Come on. I’ll take you on a nice calm ride.”

“I doubt anything around you is calm.”

Still wearing a grin, he grabbed our things, guiding me down the same set of stairs.

A man spoke Greek to him and I didn’t bother asking what was said. I honestly didn’t want to know at this point. I felt the more I learned the more dangerous it would seem to me. He took me by the hand as lovers would do, walking quickly toward a door on the side of the hangar.

When he opened it, I felt a sense of relief. “A sports car.” The bright yellow beauty inspired all things wicked within me.

“A convertible. This girl is my baby,” he said as he pulled a key fob from his pocket, pressing until the lights flashed.

“Italian, I presume.”

His grin was infectious. “Not even close. American. A Pontiac, no less.”

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