Page 51 of What Remains

I shift around to stand in front of her so she doesn’t have to strain her neck to look at me. I also want to be able to catch her in case we hit any unexpected turbulence.

“I don’t think he did.” I squint, trying to recall. “I wasn’t listening that well, to be honest.”

This time, her smile makes it all the way to those beautiful eyes of hers. “Want me to tell you what I now know so you don’t have to admit to the big scary man that you weren’t paying attention?”

Forget studying me, someone needs to look into this woman and how she can be a ray of fucking sunshine after escaping actual Hell.

The way her eyes lift to my mouth and stay there for three and a half seconds too long—and yeah, I counted—has me doing something stupid. I rest my hand on the wall over her shoulder and lean closer. But now I’m staring at her mouth, and I need to stop.

I rip my eyes away from her lips and follow her line of sight. She’s staring at the vein in my forearm. I inwardly curse when I realize what I’m doing. I don’t want to remind her of that monster and how he had her against the wall.

I start to push away, but she reaches for me, and I go still. Her eyes thin, and she lightly shakes her head. “I wasn’t thinking about that.” She keeps her hand on top of my forearm, so I let my palm return to the wall and remain rooted in place. “You just have nice arms. They distract me sometimes.”

Like the way your mouth distracts me? Thankfully kept that shit to myself.

Her eyes are back on mine, and the way she’s staring at me feels like a promise of something we can never have. Like intimacy.

I clock the pulse point at the side of her neck like a territorial hawk about to dive for its prey. Then lose my mind and inhale deeply. Dolce & Gabbana, Light Blue. Her signature scent.

“You see, this one vein here, for instance . . .” And we’re back to my arms, are we? She traces the vein that’s visible. “It just calls out my name.”

Why one finger trailing along my forearm sends a jolt of something down my body is beyond me, but it happens. And she’s managing to rescue me again. From that room. From all the lives I had to take. From the desire to take even more.

“Nurse in another life, like your sister maybe?”

I swallow, doing my damnedest not to lean in even closer, to see whether she meets me halfway and finishes what I’m not allowed to start.

“We, uh . . .” What were we supposed to be talking about again? I need to regroup, and fast. Before all that’s thrown from the plane is my sense of control. “How you were taken, right?”

Her fingers linger on my arm for a touch longer before she lets go. “Would you like the op-y explanation, or prefer the quick version?”

“You pick.” I should also stop being this damn close to her like it’s just the two of us on this plane, and we don’t have a thirteen-year age difference, and her dad isn’t my friend and on board.

Before I can get my head out of my ass, we’re interrupted.

“Everything okay?” Julian, not Wyatt, which is possibly worse for my blood pressure.

I push off the wall and hide my hands in my cargo pants’ pockets so I don’t act on the urge to break the man’s fingers so he can’t code shit for a month.

Because yeah, I know he’s got a thing for Gwen. Why wouldn’t he? She’s smart, beautiful, funny, and all the things that are good and right in the world. So, it’s not his fault, really. Can’t blame the guy for using his eyes to see what’s right in front of him. I suppose that means he gets to keep his fingers. For now.

Gwen doesn’t explain why we were in that position. She simply folds her arms and faces him, propping her shoulder against the wall. “I was about to tell him how I was taken. Do you have anything new to add to the story?”

There’s not enough room for us to stand side by side, so I stay behind her, letting her take the lead since Julian’s her friend, not mine.

He hooks his thumbs in his front jeans pockets, his green eyes flying back and forth between us. “Two hotel staff members aside from the server were in on it. One in security. Another in maintenance. They were each paid off to help with the getaway,” he says steadily, his clean-shaven jawline tight. “The security officer released some type of non-lethal gas to knock out his colleagues, and he handled the cameras.”

“And the man in maintenance worked the lift controls to ensure I arrived on the service floor leading out by the dumpsters,” Gwen tacks on.

“All three men were killed, though. Loose ends,” he adds. “The men took her to a private condo that was close to the hotel. Boarded a yacht that had a helipad from there, then she was transported to an island. After that, well, you get the idea.”

“Who owned the house? The boat?” My body goes stiff as I mentally play out the events they described, enraged all over again. I can’t begin to imagine how Wyatt and the others felt having her stolen right out from under them.

“The homeowners are in San Diego and haven’t been in Dubai in months. If there’s a connection, we’ll find it, but I doubt there is. It looks like the house was broken into, and the boat was stolen, then ditched. More than likely, the house and boat were pre-scouted to be used for her abduction.”

“Had to be pros to get her out so fast, even with insider help.” Doesn’t make sense. “For that matter, how’d they find out she was going to be at the hotel in the first place? How’d they have so much time to figure out which staff could be bought off without risking ruining their plans?”

“Still working on that.” Julian stares at me another second, then shifts to Gwen as I widen my stance and brace a hand to the wall. “You two ready to join us in the cabin now?”