Page 68 of Brox Boar

I watch her for a long moment before the thought strikes me. I stand up and glance at Rio.

“Why don’t I take Lana to Chicago with me?” The words leave my mouth before I have time to reconsider. “She may come in handy. Plus, she’s getting trained, and I might need someone with her skills in the field.”

Rio studies me for a long moment, a look of disbelief crossing his face.

“No,” he says flatly, shaking his head. “I’m not staying here alone.”

I can see the frustration in his eyes. But he knows better. The club can’t run itself, and someone has to stay behind.

“You’ll survive,” I say, smirking at him. “You always do.”

I turn back to Lana, who’s watching us now, her curiosity piqued.

“How about it, Lana?” I ask, my voice low. “Can you handle Chicago, cupcake?”

Her smile lingers as her gaze lifts to meet mine. “I’d love that,” she says.

“You bring her back in one piece.” Rio warns me, and I know it’s not a warning I can afford to ignore.

CHAPTER 18

BROX

Sol takes the Dolphin Expressway without easing off the accelerator, as if the road itself bends out of his way. He knows this route by muscle memory alone. Miami International rises ahead of us in stacked concrete and looping ramps, the silhouettes of planes already shifting in the distance, patient and precise.

It was short notice. But that’s what friends are for, especially the kind who owe favors.

According to our client, Jack Crawford—the news mogul who collects influence the way other men collect watches—a private jet is already waiting for us on the runway. Ready to take us to Chicago. And back. The thought draws a slow smirk from me. Things work better when power moves quietly.

The moment the engine cuts, Sol is out of the car, already reaching for our luggage. One carry-on. One garment bag. I don’t expect we’ll be gone more than a few days, but this is Lana’s first time traveling with me, and I wanted her to have whatever she needed. Comfort matters when everything else is unfamiliar.

Sol stays with us, steering us toward a side entrance where no one asks us any questions. A brief exchange with the security at the door, and we’re ushered through without breaking stride.

A few secured doors later, we’re outside on the tarmac. The air feels sharper, heavier, out there. We walk past several small jets before coming to a stop in front of a mean-looking aircraft, positioned like it’s been set aside just for us. It has.

“You like it?” I ask Lana, who’s trying to tame her hair on the runway and at the same time ogle at the plane.

“I love it!” She grins.

Sol goes up the airstairs with our bags, disappears into the cabin, and reappears almost immediately, empty-handed.

“Have a good trip, Brox.”

He shakes my hand, gives Lana a brief nod, and then turns back the way he came, already disappearing down the tarmac.

I guide Lana up the airstairs. Inside, the cabin is quiet and ready, the pilot already seated up front, glancing back at us over his shoulder.

“Good morning, Mr. Boar,” he says. “We’ll be taking off as soon as you settle in.”

“Mr. Boar,” the stewardess greets me smiling. “My name is Tara. If you need anything during the flight, please let me know. I’ll be sitting at the front of the plane.”

“Thank you, Tara.” I nod.

She retreats to her space, closing the door behind her.

The cabin swallows sound the moment Lana and I are alone inside. Everything in here is built to soothe, cream leather, muted lights, polished wood.

I take in the space in one glance. Two club-style seats face each other over a narrow table, a few more behind them, a small divider wall toward the front where the cockpit area begins, and storage tucked into every surface.