His lips twitch. “We’ve been over this. It’s not a lair.”
“Uh huh.” I sling the strap of my duffle over one shoulder. Boo’s leash is tight in my other hand. “Have demon-dog, will travel.”
He takes a step closer, eyes warm on Boo. “I admit, I’ll miss the little rascal.”
“Just him?”
His eyes flash up to mine. “And you.”
“Good answer,” I murmur, smiling as I lean into his chest and brush my lips against his.
“Almost forgot,” he says, pulling away. He reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out a pendant. It’s shaped like a sun and looks almost exactly like the one Cormack took from me – the twin of Gemma’s – except a fraction larger and silver rather than gold. “This is for you. Happy birthday, Phoebe.”
My breath catches in my throat as he moves behind me and slips it around my neck. His body presses into mine as his large fingers fumble with the clasp.
“How did you know?” I ask.
“I know you. I know how important that necklace was. So, I had another made specially for you.”
“Nate…” My voice cracks. “I don’t know what to say.”
He pulls my hair up, drops a kiss on the nape of my neck, and squeezes my shoulders. “Don’t say anything. Just keep it close to your heart until I see you again. And remember I love you, little bird. Forever.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
There are still people out there who use
actual coins to pay at the tollbooth.
What is this, the Dark Ages?
Phoebe West, feeling grumpier than
usual during Boston rush hour.
“This doesn’t feel right.”
The words are hushed as they leave Nate’s mouth. We’re walking across the tarmac toward the WestTech jet at a private airfield just north of the city. There’s a hangar to either side, a small control tower in the distance, and a short runway strip about the length of two football fields stretching in front of us.
Someone’s pulled the jet from its hangar onto the tarmac but as we get closer, there’s no mechanical hum in the air — the engines are off. The runway lights haven’t been illuminated. The hangar doors yawn open in the early morning light. It’s completely deserted. Not a single soul in sight.
Our steps slow as the men switch into high-alert mode.
Parker and Theo — a muscular giant with floppy black hair, gorgeous caramel skin, and some seriously beautiful green eyes — met us in the parking lot behind the hangar. Theo is one of Nate’s “men” and between him and Alden, the buzz-cut cutie I met two days ago, I’m beginning to wonder if there’s some kind of stipulation in the Knox Investigations contract that says you have to be ridiculously good looking as well as badass to work there.
Macho men less than a 9.5 on the hotness Richter scale need not apply.
Theo shot me a dimpled grin when he caught me staring at him, but otherwise hasn’t said much of anything since they arrived.
I walk between the three of them like I’m Taylor Swift surrounded by hulking bodyguards, clutching Boo to my chest like a stuffed teddy bear. For once, he doesn’t fight my hold. We’re almost at the jet when things get tense.
“Where’s the crew? The pilot?” Parker’s eyes narrow as they sweep the abandoned airstrip. “They should be here, by now.”
Theo grunts in agreement.
Great. Another monosyllabic caveman. Just what I need in my life.
Nate stops, listening intently. Something dark flashes in his eyes and then he launches into motion, shoving me to the ground and yelling, “Down!” a second before the first shots ring out.
Shots.
From a gun.
Because someone is shooting at us.
What the hell is going on in my life?!
My duffle goes flying as his body lands on mine, covering me like a human shield. Boo lets out a yap of displeasure as I squish him against my chest, fear pounding through my veins like a drug. We half-run, half-crawl behind the jet for cover, flattening our bodies against the tarmac to stay out of range.