Page 84 of Not A Whisper

But all bets were off in Vegas.

From ATV rides to day drinking, nights at clubs and casinos, we did it all. We barely stopped to sleep. If we did slow down, it was only to refuel and then we were back at it. My head is still reeling from the number of neon lights we saw. I can almost still hear the vendors calling to us, see the street performers performing, and smell all the different types of food wafting from restaurants.

What I loved the most was spending time with the guys. It was the first time the four of us had been together at once in a long time with nothing between us. No games, no threats, no manipulations. It’s been easy to breathe and smile along with everyone. Laughter came easy, and when one of them reachedout, whether to grip the back of my neck or hold my hand, a deep well of happiness and contentment overwhelmed me.

Even now, on our way to the airport on Sunday afternoon, I can’t seem to stop my heart from fluttering around happily in my chest, despite my pounding headache. I press my forehead against the cool glass of our ride and send up a few prayers that my head stays intact. As the car bumps along, I wince.

Around me, the guys are silent. Lost in their own thoughts, and probably nursing their own hangovers, no one has said anything since we left the hotel. At first, I didn’t think much of their silence. But now I’m aware of the tension humming between us.

Something’s wrong.

If I wasn’t in so much pain, I would demand to know what’s going on. Grant sits beside me in the far back of the large SUV. In the middle row, Jason and Trip have taken the bucket seats. From my vantage point, I can see the knuckles on Trip’s fist turn white as they rest on his thighs. Jason’s constant sighing and fidgeting is starting to get annoying, and Grant’s utter stillness even more so.

I’ll figure out what’s bothering them in a little bit when I’m feeling better.

When we arrive at the airport, instead of being taken to the arrivals drop-off area, the car drives past it. I stiffen, sitting up to take a look around us. Are we about to be kidnapped? Oh god, I’m so not in the mood for a kidnapping. What was this driver’s license plate number? Would I be able to remember it in a pinch? It’s highly doubtful given my current state, but if it means our survival…

We’re taken around the airport where we stop at a gate with a security guard waiting. The driver stops, rolls down his window and shows him some paperwork. Soft conversation is exchanged before we’re on our way again.

“Um, are we about to drive onto the tarmac?”

Grant reaches over and places his hand on my thigh. “Yeah. It’s quicker to board this way.”

Confused, I watch as we drive around until we pull up to a small aircraft. When the driver turns the car off and climbs out beside it, everything is starting to piece together. We’re not being kidnapped, we’re about to be chauffeured on a private jet back home.

“In what world do I live in that I travel likethis?” I ask softly, more to myself than to anyone else as we all climb out.

Jason chuckles but it’s short-lived. Trip says nothing.

“I told you, this weekend, we’re indulging ourselves. This is part of the experience,” Grant replies, flashing me a smile. It doesn’t match the tension he’s radiating.

When I get out, Jason grabs my hand and walks me over to the stairs attached to the plane. “We don’t travel like this often, wellever,really, but this time we made an exception.”

I frown. “I feel like maybe a special occasion might justify using this, but for the weekend we just had? It feels like an abuse of funds.”

Trip sighs loudly, walking quickly by us and jogging up the steps of the jet.

What’s with him?

Jason doesn’t answer as we follow Trip. Waiting just inside is a pilot who smiles and greets us. Yup, this is completely unnecessary. I would’ve been fine flying commercial with the rest of the world’s peasants. Though, when I look around, I can’t help but be impressed. Inside, comfortable leather seats are set up in rows of two but clustered in groups of four so that two rows face one another. The wood paneling and sleek overhead lighting add to the sophisticated ambiance.

Trip’s already taken a seat in the back of the plane.

We head in that direction. Rather than join him on theright side, we take the seats across the aisle. Jason ushers me to sit by the window then takes the seat beside me. His grip tightens around my hand.

What is going on?I glance down at where we’re joined then up at him.

I find his gaze locked on Grant as he joins us. Grant seems to be oblivious to the way Jason’s watching him or how Trip is actively trying hard to pretend he’s the only one on the plane. Grant takes the seat in front of me, and our eyes meet.

“Areyougoing to tell me what’s going on?” I ask. “Or should I wait to develop telepathy like the other two here since it seems they’re already in the know?”

Grant’s mouth twitches like he might smile but it doesn’t actually appear. He snaps on his seat belt and gestures for me to do the same. Tamping down my annoyance, I buckle in and give him a pointed look.

“We need to discuss a few things before we land,” he starts.

At the front of the plane, the stairs are pulled up and the pilot disappears behind a closed door.

“Ok, this sounds serious.”

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