Beneath the Burn

He rolled his eyes and grabbed Charlee’s hand, walking backward and leading her into the cabin. “Welcome to the Rolls-Royce of the sky. This twelve passenger jet will whisk us at a speed of Mach .80 for four-thousand nautical miles—”

“Twenty-three hundred nautical miles.” The man in the captain’s chair turned from the dash of blinking screens. “That’s our flight distance from New York to Los Angeles.”

Jay shrugged. “Fine. For twenty-three hundred naughty miles—”

“Nautical miles.” She laughed.

He bit his lip. “Who’s giving this tour?”

She forced a straight face. Clearly, he was unconcerned about Tony’s time schedule. “Right. Go ahead.”

Pulling her a few more steps forward, he cleared his throat. “To your right is the full-service galley.” He stretched out an arm to indicate the built-in wet bar, a grin accentuating his full lips as he opened drawers and lifted rollback covers.

Behind him, a leather couch, convertible tables, and swivel recliners sandwiched the cabin. Not much smaller than her Village apartment, the space easily accommodated the four band members, her and Nathan, and the two bodyguards.

At the rear, Laz’s gelled-up spikes sprouted behind the headrest of a backward-facing recliner. Beside him, two guitar cases were oddly seat belted into their own chair. Wil and Rio perched across the aisle, wearing ear buds, eyes glued to the devices in their hands.

“To your left is the cockpit. This cloud craft features a…” Jay flicked a finger at the high-tech digital control panel. “What’s running this thing?”

The pilot beamed. “An Oxford Romulus 2000 avionics system.”

The blood drained from Jay’s face, and his hands dropped limply at his sides.

She took a step toward the heaving wall of his chest and looked up into his wide eyes. “Get over it. Oxford Industries owns everything, especially in the aerospace industry.” She lowered her voice. “And it’s not like he can control the system from afar and send us hurtling to our deaths.”

A sweaty pallor cast over his skin. Something beyond Roy’s avionic systems was unsettling him. Unease coiled up her spine. “What’s wrong?”

He looked at his Chucks, lips a thin line, and shook his head.

The silence stretched on, fraying her nerves. Standing against him, she leaned back and raised her chin. “So that’s how it’s going to be? Soon as something bothers you, you’re going to close right up? You might as well walk away.”

Without looking up, he bent an arm around her waist and pressed her body to his. His mouth grazed her jaw, her cheek, and settled over her ear. “Told you I’ll never walk away.”

That was probably true. She seemed to attract self-adhesive kind of men. With Jay, she didn’t just want him to stay. She wanted something she didn’t understand. “Will you walk to me? Will you move so close that the ground wobbles, the walls between us crumble, and your thoughts rip open until we’re melding our fears and hopes as easily as we share air?”

He parted his lips and calmness drifted out with a sigh. “Just…just show me how.” His hand trembled as it combed through her hair. “Jesus, Charlee. Nothing in this world compares to the way you make me feel.”

His words bore into her heart, filling it with so many hopeful emotions, she thought it might explode.

He pressed his lips to her temple, his voice soft. “My parents died in a plane crash when I was six. It caught me off guard thinking about Roy sending you to your death in this plane.”

Not the answer she was expecting, and it turned her thoughts soft and sticky. She wanted to hug him so badly it hurt. She released her grip on the countertop behind him, wedged her arms between their bodies, and hugged herself instead. “Thank you for telling me.” She leaned against him. “Someday, I’d like to hear more about it. While I’m holding you. Okay?”

“Okay.” Color flowed back to his face, but his smile was shaky. He released her, though his fingers seemed reluctant to let go of her waist. He reclaimed her hand and let her lead him through the cabin.

The drummer, Rio, glanced up and yanked his ear buds out. “Well fuck me, you old menstruating recluse.” He rose and strutted down the aisle, tapping a beat on the ceiling with his knuckles and grinning at Jay. “The rumor is true? This is her? The Huntress?”

Huntress. A flutter awoke in her chest. That one word sucked her back to a time when all she had was Jay’s voice singing to her through her ear buds from outside her prison. She held out a hand. “I’m Charlee.”

Creases formed on Rio’s bald head as his mahogany eyes roamed every inch of her except the hand she offered. “Too fucking sexy for a handshake.” He stretched out his beefy arms. “Come here, baby.”

Tension steamed from Jay’s body as his muscles turned to stone against her back. He reached around her, stabbing a finger at Rio’s chest. “No fucking way.”

“Aw, come on—”

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