Page 3 of Hidden Shadows
She was still focusing on her breaths when she felt the whispers of heat at her side. It was subtle, the man wasn’t even touching her, but somehow she just felt like he was moving closer. Whether it was intentional or not, she wasn’t sure, but the sensation made a tiny bit of the tightness release in her chest.
When they were finally in the air, she blew out a long-stuttered breath but didn’t open her eyes. The heat at her side also didn’t disappear. A part of her wanted to lean into it. To breathe in his woodsy sandalwood scent. Because for some reason, the man calmed some of the anxiety inside her.
CHAPTER2
Nixon Reid’s muscles tightened as the woman nuzzled her cheek into his shoulder.
Who the hell slept on a two-hour flight?
Obviously, the same woman who’d glared at him for not giving up the aisle seat and then again for trying to relay facts about flight safety.
He leaned his head back against the padded cushion, trying to ignore the way the warmth of her skin seeped through the material of her shirt and into his shoulder. To not watch the slow rise and fall of her chest or listen to the soft hum of her breathing.
She was beautiful, with her long brown hair and big brown eyes. Even while she’d been sending him angry side glares, she was still gorgeous. And she had this sweet scent of lilacs and honey.
His fingers tightened around his phone as he tried to concentrate on the words on the screen. Notes for the job he was doing in Ontario. It was damn hard, not only because of the woman beside him but because of the fucking Christmas music playing from her headphones. The volume was up so loud that all he could hear were the lyrics to “Let It Snow.”
Fuck, he hated Christmas. Everything about this time of year made his skin crawl and his lungs pull so fucking tight he thought he’d never get a full breath in again. He’d wanted to turn down this job. Hell, hehadturned it down. Fly to Ontario, at Christmas, and spend time at a fair called Winter Wonderland?
Fuck no. Everything about it sounded like his very own version of hell.
But the man asking him to do the job wasn’t just anyone. He was a friend. A guy Nixon had served with. So when he’d pushed it, Nixon had gritted his damn teeth and agreed.
And he was already regretting it.
He forced his attention back to the notes on the phone, committing every detail to memory. Even if he didn’t want to be here, he’d damn well do a good job. He treatedeveryjob like a mission, the former Navy SEAL in him never letting a detail slip, no matter how small. It was often the small details that could make or break a mission.
He’d wanted to be a SEAL since he was a kid, and not because of the notoriety or to impress anyone. He’d wanted to do it because in order to take down the worst scum on earth, you had to be the best. So that’s what he’d become…the best.
A soft feminine noise sounded from Finley. It was something between a hum and a moan, and it made the muscles in Nixon’s forearm twitch.
He ground his jaw and was just reading over the notes for the hundredth damn time when the pilot’s voice came over the speaker.
“This is your pilot speaking. We’re about to go through some clear-air turbulence. I ask that people ensure their seat belts are on. Cabin crew, be seated.”
The pilot had barely finished speaking when they hit the first bump. The plane shook, a couple of gasps sounding from guests around him.
Finley’s breathing shifted from long, slow breaths to shorter ones. She nuzzled her face into his shoulder before reaching up and rubbing her eyes. When that hand slipped from her face to his biceps, she froze. Then, slowly, she looked up until her eyes collided with his.
Her jaw dropped, a pretty pink shading her cheeks. She seemed like she was about to say something, but before any words could come out, the plane shook again. She gasped, the fingers that were still around his biceps tightening and the pink stain in her cheeks fleeing as her skin turned pale.
“We’re going through some clear-air turbulence,” he said, voice too damn gruff.
“Turbulence?” Her voice was high-pitched, and she said the word like it was a death sentence.
“It’ll be fine.”
“Fine.” She nodded, but the action was too vigorous. “Yeah. We’ll be fine.”
She peeled her fingers from his biceps and grabbed the arm of the chair. Just like on takeoff, her knuckles whitened and her back was unnaturally straight.
She swallowed. “I mean, I would believe you, but there’s no way you couldactuallyknow that. I’m sure in every plane that’s ever crashed there’s been the person onboard who told people it would be fine, and then it wasn’t.” She leaned against the cushioned headrest. “If this plane crashes, then it’s the worst timing. I haven’t traveled enough. I haven’t conquered this fear of flying. I always wanted to teach but never did that. I haven’t adopted a rescue pet or fallen in love.”
“You’ll be able to do all of that.”
“Maybe…hopefully.”
The plane shook again, but this time more violently. When the remaining color in her face leached away, Nixon cursed quietly before reaching out and slipping his hand over hers. “Hey. Look at me.”
