they’d work the crowd into hysterics and delay the flight…even more than the forty minutes they’d already wasted due to the plane’s late arrival.
She waited, shuffled, and then waited more. The spiked heels of her boots dug into her foot. There hadn’t been time to go to her condo and change. Luckily she always carried a bag of clothes in the trunk of her car, but she might need all of them for the days away. So, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and worked her way to the very last row.
A salt-and-pepper headed chap—around her dad’s age—rested his head against the back of the seat. His loafer-laced feet stuck out into the aisle. His hands were clasped on his trim belly while one finger tapped the expensive watch on is wrist. She bet he was wondering where the hell the first-class seats had gone too. She’d certainly have ponied up the extra dough for some elbow room.
“Excuse me.” Khani shoved her bag into the compartment overhead.
The man blinked her into focus. “Well, you don’t need an excuse, beautiful.” Whiskey curled off his breath and stung her eyes.
Perfect.
“No, I don’t. I need you to get up so I can take my seat.”
“Oh.” His shifty brown eyes assessed her, legs to boobs, boobs to legs, and then back again for good measure. “I’ll let you crawl over.” A fat tongue lolled from his mouth and lapped over his lips.
“And I’ll give you one more opportunity to move.”
“Or what?” he snickered.
Khani slammed the lid to the overhead compartment closed at the same time she rammed her boot heel into the top of his shoe. “Oh blast, I’m sorry. I didn’t see your foot there.”
The man’s face marbled into hues of red. He bolted upright in his seat. His cheeks puffed.
“Would you like me to crawl over you? Because I think I’d quite enjoy that.” She flashed her brightest smile.
He slurred a string of curses under his breath, but stood, and then hobbled out of the way.
“You’re too kind. Thank you.” Khani shifted into the narrow space. She collapsed onto the seat. The stiff seat back cradled her enough that sleep would find her after take-off. This was likely the only down time she’d have for a while and she’d learned early on to take it where she could get it.
The man flung himself into the seat. It shuddered under his petulant display. She ignored him and watched the men in orange vests toss luggage from one cart onto another. The cache of weapons and ammunition in her bag assured no one would be playing catch with her duffels.
Silver linings .
“I’ll trade you this seat for a front-rower with tons of leg room and no foot traffic.” The all too familiar baritone hawked his c’s and rolled his r’s.
Khani turned, not believing her ears. Every muscle in her body constricted. King Street’s height and breath gobbled all the available space in the aisle and more. He tilted his head to the side and winked.
A tingle washed over her skin, just like it had in the armory when his hot hands touched her.
“Absolutely. She’s nuts.” The chap used the chair in front of him to stand.
“A2.” Street got as small as a big-ass man could in the limited room of an airplane aisle and let the bloke shuffle past. Street adjusted his fancy jacket, smoothed his tie, and then eased into the seat. “It’s too bloody hot for coats.”
“I didn’t think you owned one. I’d only seen you in jeans and T-shirts until today.”
“Nah.” He hooked a finger into his collar and tugged at the material. “That’s not true is it? You’ve seen me in far less.” His head remained facing forward, but his gaze slid to her.
The tingle heated into a sticky mess of hormones that threatened to melt her resolve on the matter of Street. She pushed the palms of her hands onto the tops of her slacks. “Why are you here?”
“Why aren’t you using the Branch jet? Commercial flights blow.”
“I would have, if I could have, and I’d have made
She waited, shuffled, and then waited more. The spiked heels of her boots dug into her foot. There hadn’t been time to go to her condo and change. Luckily she always carried a bag of clothes in the trunk of her car, but she might need all of them for the days away. So, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and worked her way to the very last row.
A salt-and-pepper headed chap—around her dad’s age—rested his head against the back of the seat. His loafer-laced feet stuck out into the aisle. His hands were clasped on his trim belly while one finger tapped the expensive watch on is wrist. She bet he was wondering where the hell the first-class seats had gone too. She’d certainly have ponied up the extra dough for some elbow room.
“Excuse me.” Khani shoved her bag into the compartment overhead.
The man blinked her into focus. “Well, you don’t need an excuse, beautiful.” Whiskey curled off his breath and stung her eyes.
Perfect.
“No, I don’t. I need you to get up so I can take my seat.”
“Oh.” His shifty brown eyes assessed her, legs to boobs, boobs to legs, and then back again for good measure. “I’ll let you crawl over.” A fat tongue lolled from his mouth and lapped over his lips.
“And I’ll give you one more opportunity to move.”
“Or what?” he snickered.
Khani slammed the lid to the overhead compartment closed at the same time she rammed her boot heel into the top of his shoe. “Oh blast, I’m sorry. I didn’t see your foot there.”
The man’s face marbled into hues of red. He bolted upright in his seat. His cheeks puffed.
“Would you like me to crawl over you? Because I think I’d quite enjoy that.” She flashed her brightest smile.
He slurred a string of curses under his breath, but stood, and then hobbled out of the way.
“You’re too kind. Thank you.” Khani shifted into the narrow space. She collapsed onto the seat. The stiff seat back cradled her enough that sleep would find her after take-off. This was likely the only down time she’d have for a while and she’d learned early on to take it where she could get it.
The man flung himself into the seat. It shuddered under his petulant display. She ignored him and watched the men in orange vests toss luggage from one cart onto another. The cache of weapons and ammunition in her bag assured no one would be playing catch with her duffels.
Silver linings .
“I’ll trade you this seat for a front-rower with tons of leg room and no foot traffic.” The all too familiar baritone hawked his c’s and rolled his r’s.
Khani turned, not believing her ears. Every muscle in her body constricted. King Street’s height and breath gobbled all the available space in the aisle and more. He tilted his head to the side and winked.
A tingle washed over her skin, just like it had in the armory when his hot hands touched her.
“Absolutely. She’s nuts.” The chap used the chair in front of him to stand.
“A2.” Street got as small as a big-ass man could in the limited room of an airplane aisle and let the bloke shuffle past. Street adjusted his fancy jacket, smoothed his tie, and then eased into the seat. “It’s too bloody hot for coats.”
“I didn’t think you owned one. I’d only seen you in jeans and T-shirts until today.”
“Nah.” He hooked a finger into his collar and tugged at the material. “That’s not true is it? You’ve seen me in far less.” His head remained facing forward, but his gaze slid to her.
The tingle heated into a sticky mess of hormones that threatened to melt her resolve on the matter of Street. She pushed the palms of her hands onto the tops of her slacks. “Why are you here?”
“Why aren’t you using the Branch jet? Commercial flights blow.”
“I would have, if I could have, and I’d have made
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