The fear remained in my heart, growing thicker with every beat. I couldn’t look at the so-called gentleman without swallowing a cocktail of murderous rage and teary terror.
His profile showed a man with a five o’ clock shadow beginning over his jaw, windswept thick hair, and an edge that catapulted him from sexy to dangerous. He stood out from a crowd. He drew need and desire effortlessly. But there was nothing tame or kind or normal. He reeked of manipulation and control.
He’s an iceberg.
The car park wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t rush hour either. Despite the clunking echo of a couple dragging suitcases toward the terminal, the night was quiet.
Jethro climbed off the bike. Once standing, he rolled his neck, rubbing the cord of muscle with a strong hand. His eyes latched onto mine. They looked darker, more autumn leaf than precious metal, but still as cold.
I glowered back, hoping my hatred was visible.
His face remained closed off—not rising to the challenge of a staring war. Holding out his palm, he waited. The way he watched spoke volumes. He didn’t wonder if I’d take his hand. He knew. He believed in himself so damn much everything other than his wish was dismissed as ludicrous.
Too bad for him, I didn’t do well with the silent treatment. V had trained that out of me. Having a boisterous twin armed me with certain skills. And ignoring moody males was one of them.
Swatting his hand, I pushed off from the black leather and landed on bare feet. The brisk concrete bit into my soles. Wrapping my arms around my shivering torso, I muttered, “As if I’d accept your help. After everything you’ve done so far.”
Dropping his arm, he chuckled. “So far?” He leaned closer. “I’ve done nothing. Not yet. Wait until you’re in my domain and behind closed doors. Then you might have something worthy of being melodramatic about.”
My skills at coping with the future rested on being able to ignore his threats and focus on the now. Standing tall, I said, “I could ask something stupid like why are we at the airport, but I can guess why. However, you failed to think about my schedule—”
“Schedules change.”
“I don’t travel alone, Mr. Hawk. I had tickets booked for my brother, assistant, and wardrobe organiser. Not to mention the excess luggage. They’ll be expecting me. Hell, my assistant will be expecting me back at the hotel tonight. All of this—it’s a waste of time. It’s a waste because the police will be told and if you think my father won’t come for me, you’re mistaken.”
Even as I said it doubt crept over my soul. Tex Weaver shoved me into this nightmare. Why did I think he’d come and bring me home?
Jethro crossed his arms, lips in a tight smile as if I were amusing and not pointing out valid facts. “There were a multitude of mistakes in that paragraph, but I’ll focus only on the relevant points.” Tilting his head, he continued, “Your father is fully aware of everything. Your loyalty to the man who gave you away with no fight is misplaced. His hands are tied and he damn well knows it. As for the police, they have no relevance in your future. Forget about them, your family, hope. It’s over.”
His voice dropped to a growl. “Do you know why it’s over? It’s over because your life is over. There’s so much you don’t know, and so much I can’t wait to tell you.”
He shed his icy exterior, grabbing my hair and jerking my head back. “You’ll learn about your peerage. Your rotten family tree. And you’ll pay. So shut up, give up, and appreciate my kindness thus far because I’m running low on decency, Ms. Weaver, and you won’t like me when I hit my limit.”
My shivers evolved to full blown tremors. “I don’t like you now, let alone in the future. Let me go.”
He surprised me by stepping away, releasing me. My scalp smarted, but I refused to rub my head.
“You’re testing me. But lucky for you, I know how to deal with troublesome pets.”
Pets?
My hands balled.
How did I ever think I wanted him? The fact his lips had been on my face and his thumb in my mouth repulsed me.
Jethro’s gaze drifted down my state of undress. “You’re shaking. I don’t want you getting sick.” His eyebrow quirked. “I’d offer you my jacket, like the chivalrous man I am, but I doubt you’d accept it. However, I have something better.”
Spinning around, he drifted toward a deep shadow cast by one of the large pillars. “Flaw? Get out here. You damn well better be—”
“I’m here.” A man appeared from the shadows. Dressed in black jeans, shirt, and black leather jacket, the only glint of colour came from a simple silver outline of a diamond engraved on the front pocket. He looked like a thief waiting for a victim. “Been here for forty-five minutes. You’re late.” He tossed Jethro a duffel, running a hand through long dark hair. “Lucky for you the flight’s delayed.”