Page 33 of One Secret

The undercut, the attitude, that little chin… I've known for a while that Darcy is tough. But maybe I've been underestimating just how tough...?

And if she's really as au fait with my occupation as she seems... perhaps this thing between us doesn't have to be so short-term?

From mechanic, to lover, to permanent addition in the space of a week, Alesi?

How quickly you forget about her bartender boyfriend...

How quickly you forget that you and long-term is not a winning combination...

Wondering what the hell has gotten into me the last few weeks, I turn to greet the pilot as he pops out from the cockpit, confirm the flight plan, and then encourage Darcy to find a seat so we can get moving.

I buckle in next to her—which turns out to be a royally stupid idea—and then spend the next ten minutes trying to ignore the childish glee with which Darcy welcomes take off.

She twists in her seat to watch us speed along the runway, grins broadly at the upward thrust beneath our feet as we leave the ground, and then, once we're at cruising altitude, she settles into the plush cushioning of her seat like the captain of the damn Enterprise.

Even when still, her body seems to zing with energy, her eyes bright and vibrant.

God, but I've always liked her eyes.

Under brows of jet black, Darcy's eyes are so sharp a hazel that they leave behind all warmth. No brown, barely any green, they're almost yellow.

Right now, they sparkle like citrine.

'You like flying?' I prompt, for no good reason.

'I love flying. I like speed.'

Her smile has the beauty mark under her left eye crinkling.

'How did you find the bike?' I ask, genuinely curious.

She nods.

'It was great. Though, I'd have preferred to have been upfront.'

'You can ride?'

I kind of like the sound of that...

'I can. But more specifically, I like to be able to see where I'm going.'

Without warning, her joviality seems to melt away and she turns in her seat. The warrioress is back and ready to go.

'Speaking of which...' she begins.

Uh-oh.

'We need a game plan.'

'Meaning?' I ask, treading carefully.

'Meaning...' she says, propping up a foot on the edge of her seat. She settles into the corner of her chair, the collar of my jacket dusting over her jawline. The black of the leather sets her complexion off paler. 'If I'm going to help you whilst we're on this island, I need to know what you're looking for.'

'I thought you were only going so you could dig up some dirt on the Carusos?' I point out.

We'd spoken little since our interrupted interlude at The Blue Star. But Darcy has a knack for getting across an entire plan in a single text message.

And it's a plan I'm at a loss to fight against.

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