Page 29 of Jacob

There it was again, that instinctive politeness. Thanking him for thinking of feeding her. Jesus.

The helo pilot was transferring their stuff to the plane, including his gear. Jacob leaped down to help Alex to the ground and she thanked him again. He had to stop that habit she had, it made him feel awful.

Thanking him for helping her off the helo. The steps were high and hard to navigate, he wasn’t about to let a tired Alex, who hadn’t eaten all day, come down those steps on her own.

He gave her his hand and the instant they were on the ground, she pulled away. She wasn’t subtle about it.

OK.

Jacob motioned for her to go up the stairs to the plane, walking right behind her. He gave a sigh of relief when they were inside the plane, an Embraer Legacy. The pilot met them at the door. Captain Conan McCann. He’d worked for Black Inc. for five years. On the tarmac, the steps were pulled away and McCann pulled the door closed.

Just like that, the outside world was cut off. Inside, the cabin felt calm and orderly and quiet. And private. They were going to be together non-stop for the next fifteen hours, something he’d dreamed of for the past eighteen years.

Jacob stopped by the cockpit to say hello to McCann and the co-pilot. He hadn’t asked for any assistants or attendants in the plane. The pilots would stay in the cockpit. He and Alex would be alone.

The plane was outfitted with a full office and a bedroom with a shower in the back. They would be living there for the time it took to get to Vostokova. The closest he’d been to her in years.

There was a small business center, with armchairs around an oval conference table. Alex sat in an armchair and Jacob took a seat next to her. Maybe she wanted him to sit across the table? Tough shit.

“I’ll get you some food as soon as we reach cruising altitude.”

Alex nodded and clutched the seat arms as the plane started taxiing. Was she a nervous flyer?

“Don’t worry.” Jacob placed his hand over hers. “Captain McCann flew with the Air Force for twenty years. His copilot has a lot of experience as well. We’re in very good hands.”

Alex side-eyed him. “You think I’m nervous?”

“No, not at all,” he lied. “Just letting you know. It’s going to be a long flight. There might be some turbulence. Again, I want you to know both pilots are the best in the business.”

Alex sighed. “I do sometimes get a little nervous flying. I can control it, don’t worry.”

“Not worried. Not at all.” He squeezed her hand gently. She said she’d been shanghaied and he’d said no, she hadn’t been shanghaied, but the truth was she had been. He knew Dylan, who could act the part of a gentleman perfectly, though he wasn’t. It had been made very clear to Dylan that Alex was to be treated with kid gloves, but Dylan was also a rock and would have also made it very clear to Alex that she had no alternative. That she was flying off with him whether she liked it or not.

Jacob hadn’t actually been thinking clearly or he would have—have what? Because once Alex entered the doors into Atlanta’s Black Inc., she was coming to San Diego, to him. No question. But he hadn’t factored in that she might not like flying.

Jacob tapped on a built-in screen on the tabletop and showed it to Alex.

“That’s what we have on board to eat. Choose whatever you want. You can have hot food too, of course.” Even if he’d dismissed flight attendants, Jacob could operate the microwave just fine.

Alex bent over the screen and studied the menu carefully. Jacob had asked for the plane to be fully stocked, and it was. It wasn’t five-star restaurant fare, but there was a good selection of food, and an excellent selection of wine and beer. He knew what he wanted. A hot pastrami and coleslaw and a local artisanal beer called Rickety Bridge. Later, for their second meal when they’d crossed the Pacific, he might have a sliced steak salad with shoestring potatoes. There were also snacks if they wanted them.

“You decided?”

She looked at him. “You have quite a selection here. I’ve flown first class twice and this beats it.”

Damn right. Anyone flying on this plane was working with or for Black Inc. and was either flying into or out of trouble. They deserved the best. “So what will you have?”

“I think the wild mushroom tortellini and the pear and escarole salad.”

“Sounds good. You can unbuckle now.”

“What?”

“We’re in the air.”

She glanced, startled, out the window, as they flew over San Diego. There was a faint line of light on the western horizon where a touch of sunlight lingered but you could clearly see where the brightly lit shoreline of the western reaches of San Diego met the black ocean.

“Wow. That was smooth.”

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