Elle smiled widely and took a step away from the counter. She’d already tended to his business; she was there just to observe.
“I’m on this flight. Business class.” Even though it was an intercontinental flight, the bastard didn’t present any documentation. No passport. No e-ticket. As if everyone should know him.
“And you are?” Louise asked.
“Mr. Biggs. Aston Biggs, of course,” he spat, obviously not pleased.
Louise tapped on the keyboard. “Hmm, I’m sorry Mr. Biggs, but according to our system, you booked a seat in coach.”
“Impossible. I do not fly coach.”
He was today. Last row. Closest to the bathroom. Constant flow of people. Least legroom, loudest seats on the whole plane. Flanked by the two most robust passengers she’d found, whom she’d awarded several thousand bonus miles for the aggravation to have to put up with Biggs for eight hours.
“Sorry, sir. Nothing I can do. Check-in is all but closed. The business-class seats are taken, the boarding passes printed and handed out. If you would have come in earlier, maybe we could have—”
“I want your supervisor here. Now.”
“That would be me,” Elle said, her voice sugary. “You will have to take this up with your travel agent when you get back.”
“I want her supervisor,” Biggs yelled at Louise.
“We are very sorry for the misunderstanding, but there’s nothing he can do either. Boarding has started and unless you hurry to the gate, you’ll miss the plane,” Louise explained, handing him the boarding pass.
He ignored her and, after turning to Elle, took a step forward. “All this is your fault. You conniving little bi—”
She would have had no trouble beating the shit out of him; after all, she had the right to defend herself and the restraining order had expired, but before he could reach her, Jack intercepted him.
“You heard the lady. Get moving.”
Biggs wasn’t used to being talked to in that manner or addressed by someone looking like Jack, because he stammered a bit before answering. “And you are…?”
“Assaulting an airline agent is a very serious offense. I suggest you rethink it.”
“I have unfinished business with her.”
“No. Your business is finished. Get moving,” Jack repeated. His back was in front of her, so she couldn’t see his eyes, but she could guess by the tone of his voice his expression must have been frightening.
Biggs recoiled, huffed. “You’re lucky I’m in a hurry, because this is not the end. I will have your job,” he threatened Elle as he grabbed the boarding pass and left.
“Have a nice flight,” she said, waving at him, and then whispered to Jack, “Wait till he sees the seat I picked out for him. This is a trip he won’t forget anytime soon.”
Jack shook his head. “Why didn’t you tip off the police he was smuggling drugs?”
“Already did that once. He got arrested and his ass probed. I try to mix it up,” she answered, winking at him. “You know, to keep it entertaining.”
Louise laughed. “You’re diabolical.”
Just evening the odds.
“When you get off? You could come for a beer. The Borg too,” Louise said.
“She’s off already,” Jack answered for Elle and then turned to her. “No beer. Now let’s go to your office.”
“You could wait here.”
“Not a chance in hell,” he said with a snort. “You’re not ditching me again.”
Damn. He’d read her. Although she was sure the security checks wouldn’t have stopped Jack from charging in to drag her ass out. Then again, him chasing her on the tarmac would have been a sight to behold.
She gestured for him to follow her. She might as well get it over with, because this was a battle she wasn’t winning. “Let the record reflect that I’m doing this just to humor you and to avoid a scene. I’ll arrange some time off, if you agree to get off my back with my other activities. Oh, and if Biggs is back, I will be back too. Non-negotiable.”
“This is not a democracy. We already had a deal in place. A deal I didn’t need to make. Don’t tempt your luck.”
She rolled her eyes. How generous of him.
The second she got to her locker, she was so debugging her bag.
As she walked into her boss’s office, she heard Jack say, “And get it in writing.”
God. This…partnership of theirs was going to end up very badly. Murderously so.
“We’re taking my truck,” Jack said, staring at Elle’s ride. There was no way he was getting into that slick, tiny sports car.
“Why?”
He looked at himself and then at the car, which barely reached his waist, and cocked his eyebrow. “Why do you think? Not to mention it’s fucking girlie.”
She patted the hood of the car. “Don’t listen to him, René, you’re very masculine. The Borg is being mean on purpose.”