Page 61 of Torched

“No argument there, although I’m not liking it.”

“Neither is your brother, but we gotta work with it.”

“Fair.” I nod. “What about back-up?”

“The Wolfes sent a dozen men with Kane that will be on the island undercover. We won’t know who they are, but if anything goes south, they’ll be there to help us out.”

“Good.” There aren’t many men I trust in this world, but Franklin Wolfe is luckily one of the few I trust with my life. Not only does his younger brother have a history with Callie, but he also has the reputation of being a righteous man. Ruthless, but righteous. He has never given us any reason to believe otherwise.

I get off the bed in the back of the jet, leaving Jeremy to arrange everything else he needs to before I shove the divider open into the sitting area.

“Joder! Why didn’t you ever take me on this thing, Liam?” Cristina is still gawking at the inside of the jet, like she has been since I left her five minutes ago, her filthy paws touching everything shiny and sparkly.

“Because I figured you’d prefer your broom wherever you go.” I drop myself into the recliner directly next to Imogen, a chortle coming my way before I link her fingers with mine and drop a kiss on her soft hand.

“Please take your seats, the captain is ready for take-off.” The flight attendant shows her pearly teeth, and we watch how Cristina lowers herself in the recliner across from us. I glance over my shoulder, watching Jeremy and the rest of our men on board take the seats behind us.

Take-off is easy, except for the stares Cristina keeps throwing our way, annoying me with a single look. Having her around on the yacht was shit. But being forced to share this small space with her is really testing my patience. Meaning, I have none.

When the seatbelt sign turns off, Jeremy and the men retreat back to the bedroom in the jet to work, and I squeeze Gen’s hand, twisting my neck with a smoldering look. “Come here.”

She holds my gaze for a few seconds, a smile haunting her lips as she takes off the seatbelt and crawls into my lap. Not bothering with who’s watching, she swipes her tongue over the seam of my lips until I part them, then she softly pushes inside. We twirl our tongues together in sweet and tentative moves, languid and longing, while my palms roam the small of her back.

“Right. I need a drink.” Cristina’s voice tries to catch our attention when I notice her get up from the corner of my eye. “You mind me raiding your mini-bar?”

I wave her off, not giving a shit about what she wants to do.

“Well, since you two are busy.” I hear her fumble with some kind of plastic, but don’t bother to look away from my girl. “You don’t mind me opening your Louis Roederer Champagne, do you?”

“No!”

I finally tear my lips away from Imogen, but the pop of the cork separating from the bottle is already audible in the air.Goddamnit.

“I’m sorry. Were you saving this for a special occasion?”

“What is that?” Gen looks over her shoulder while Cristina puts the champagne bottle against her lips like she’s trailer trash. Which, to be fair, in my head, she is, but she has always acted like she’s the fucking daughter of the Queen herself. It shows even more how frustrated she’s getting, which is a win, but I can’t deny I’m annoyed she’s now sipping my champagne like it’s fucking Evian.

“A seven-grand bottle of champagne,” I inform Gen.

Gen twists my head back to her with a seductive grin. “Let her.”

The wicked glint in her eyes quickly makes me forget about the witch on board, and we continue to make out, ignoring her all together.

“I can understand why you don’t want to give this up.”

But this woman just keeps jabbing and jabbing.

“If I was living life like this?” A whistle slides in our ears. “I would fucking fight for it too. I mean, look at you. A yacht in the Mediterranean. A jet at your disposal. Not to mention, the shit ton of the houses you own. That place in Montana would’ve been a nice getaway location as well.”

“You mean the one where we killed your cousin?” Imogen pulls her lips from mine, taunting her over her shoulder while I cock my head to look past her. Cristina traded the bottle for a glass, though the bottle is still sitting firmly in her hand as she takes another sip.

“Yeah, the one that was supposed to be asafe house.” She makes quotes in the air. “I hope you did a better job getting a safe house this time, Liam.”

“Why? Are you up to something again?”

“What! No!” She grips her heart indignantly.

“Could’ve fooled me.” I know she’s hiding something. I know she would never put all her cards on the table, but we still haven’t figured that out yet.

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