Page 23 of Pucker Factor

That was an easy one to answer. “Possibly, but I’ll never speak to him again. He broke my trust. He was with me for five years. I could more easily forgive someone that doesn’t even know me than someone that’s supposed to be the man I share my life with. That’s a deal breaker.”

He nodded slightly. “I can understand that.”

“So…does that mean I can go home?” I asked hopefully.

His lips twitched. “Nope, you’re still coming with us.”

He turned and headed for the plane, leaving me slack-jawed. I hurried after him, wondering why this was so important. “You don’t need me to come with you! You already know who he is!”

“Are you in a hurry to get back to the office?” he asked over his shoulder. “I would think the fact that there’s a big hole in the building would mean you have at least a few days off work.” He stopped walking and turned to me curiously. “What do you do anyway?”

I stumbled to a stop, nearly running into his chest. Flustered at my hands suddenly pressed against his hard muscles, I fumbled over my words. “I work doing various…administrative things and…what does it matter?” I snapped.

He shrugged and continued. “What about your boss?”

“What about him?” I asked, walking quickly again.

“His job. What does he do?”

“He works in accounts payable for the company.”

“Boring,” Eli answered, shaking his head. “It sounds like your boss has been dipping his toes in the company profits.”

I wouldn’t be surprised by that, but how could he make such a bold statement without proof? “Whether he has or not, it doesn’t affect me.”

“It sort of does. He did have you strapped to a bomb.”

We reached the bottom of the steps, but I was still determined not to go on this trip. More than that, I knew going up in this hunk of junk would be the end of me. “I can’t go. I have a cat and goldfish to take care of.”

But he continued up the steps anyway. “I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”

“How? You don’t even know where I live!”

“I had Cash run your ID,” he said over his shoulder.

That had me running up the steps after him. “You did what?”

“Yeah, like you can talk. You stole my wallet. Besides, it’s like I said, I needed your help. I had to make sure you were—”

But I didn’t hear the rest as he entered the plane and turned down the aisle. Frustrated, I ran after him and chased him down the aisle.

“—all ready to go?” he asked one of his coworkers.

“Scottie’s just doing the final check.”

“Excuse me,” I cut in. “We were having a conversation.”

He turned back to me and frowned. “I thought we already worked this out.”

“No,” I said in an exaggerated tone. “You told me I had to go with you. Then you drove me to the airport and just kept walking away whenever I tried to discuss this with you.”

“You should take a seat. You’re in the way.”

I turned and saw another bulky man making his way down the aisle carrying several bags. “Sorry,” I said, slipping into the seat and making room for him.

“No problem,” he nodded, walking past me.

I stepped back into the aisle to argue further when the man named IRIS suddenly got up.

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