“You aren’t going to share? You have about ten packs of each.”
“I’m a growing boy.” His shoulders twitched.
“Yeah, growing fat in the head.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed on a quiet laugh. “It’s your fault. You keep defending my honor.”
He had a point. She was like jello around him, incapable of controlling herself. She’d have to ditch him. They changed planes in Minneapolis. She could pull it off there. She’d researched a private airfield fifteen minutes from the airport as a contingency.
King Street counted as one huge unseen probability. She hated abandoning the gear she’d checked, but she could buy more in Anchorage. She’d just be out the long-range rifles, which she hoped were overkill anyway.
“Here.” He held out two packs of peanuts and two of pretzels. “If you don’t eat them now, stow them for later.”
Those seemingly simple words combined with his earlier comments about his television and saving money tugged at her heart. Since his file had been sealed she didn’t know what kind of childhood he’d had…other than interesting. That’s what he’d called it.
She wanted to know about his early years, but refused to ask. The problem was when you asked someone questions they assumed the road went two ways. And she didn’t talk about her past. It was firmly behind her. She kept it there and smashed the rearview.
Khani knew hungry. Once you were truly hungry you were always hungry. There were protein bars in her glove box, desk drawer, gym bag, the dresser beside her bed, and in almost every room in her condo. She hardly ever used them, but they were there. And more, she didn’t waste food. Had Street ever known real hunger? She hoped not.
“I will,” she croaked. The packages crinkled as she stuffed all but one into her pocket. She opened the small, knotted pretzels even though her stomach resembled one and crunched a few. “I guess I screwed us both on water.”
“That you did.” He gave her that sideways glance again.
“Sorry.” That look made it as hard to swallow as the dry dough in her mouth.
“Luckily I came prepared for your shenanigans.” He pulled a small bottle of water from inside his jacket.
“How can you fit that in your jacket?”
“Big guy. Big Jacket. Big…”
“Dick,” she finished, giggling in spite of herself.
A chuckle erupted from the seat in front of them.
“That too.” He grinned. “But I was going to say, pockets.”
“Of course you were.” She took the bottle from his grasp, pulled two swallows, and then handed it back. “Thank you.”
“Thank you?” A furrow developed between his brows. “I expected a bigger fight.”
“How am I going to fight? There’s nowhere to go.”
“I wouldn’t have put it past you to pull the emergency exit and use your jacket as a parachute.”
“There are kids on the plane. Can’t freak them out.”
“That’s mighty nice of you.”
“What can I say, I’m a nice girl.”
He leaned back into the chair and canted his head. “You are. No matter how bad-ass, you have a soft spot.”
“Sharks have soft spots too. But the people who feel it don’t long survive the teeth.”
“I’m tougher than I look.” Street leaned forward. His hands moved slowly, but purposefully over her lap. He grabbed the ends of her lap belt, and then clicked them together. “We’ve started our decent.”
“And you think this will save us in a crash?” she whispered.
“It can’t hurt. Can it?”
There were too many meanings to that question and in his eyes to answer. She grabbed her resolve to flee with both hands and hung on until they hit the gate. They hurried through the tunnel. Having wasted thirty minutes getting off the plane, there were ten left to make it to their connection five gates away.
She headed for the bathroom. “I have to pee. You?”
“I’m straight.”
“Oh, I know that.”
He studied her down the end of his nose. “I don’t have to pee.”
“Okay, will you
“I’m a growing boy.” His shoulders twitched.
“Yeah, growing fat in the head.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed on a quiet laugh. “It’s your fault. You keep defending my honor.”
He had a point. She was like jello around him, incapable of controlling herself. She’d have to ditch him. They changed planes in Minneapolis. She could pull it off there. She’d researched a private airfield fifteen minutes from the airport as a contingency.
King Street counted as one huge unseen probability. She hated abandoning the gear she’d checked, but she could buy more in Anchorage. She’d just be out the long-range rifles, which she hoped were overkill anyway.
“Here.” He held out two packs of peanuts and two of pretzels. “If you don’t eat them now, stow them for later.”
Those seemingly simple words combined with his earlier comments about his television and saving money tugged at her heart. Since his file had been sealed she didn’t know what kind of childhood he’d had…other than interesting. That’s what he’d called it.
She wanted to know about his early years, but refused to ask. The problem was when you asked someone questions they assumed the road went two ways. And she didn’t talk about her past. It was firmly behind her. She kept it there and smashed the rearview.
Khani knew hungry. Once you were truly hungry you were always hungry. There were protein bars in her glove box, desk drawer, gym bag, the dresser beside her bed, and in almost every room in her condo. She hardly ever used them, but they were there. And more, she didn’t waste food. Had Street ever known real hunger? She hoped not.
“I will,” she croaked. The packages crinkled as she stuffed all but one into her pocket. She opened the small, knotted pretzels even though her stomach resembled one and crunched a few. “I guess I screwed us both on water.”
“That you did.” He gave her that sideways glance again.
“Sorry.” That look made it as hard to swallow as the dry dough in her mouth.
“Luckily I came prepared for your shenanigans.” He pulled a small bottle of water from inside his jacket.
“How can you fit that in your jacket?”
“Big guy. Big Jacket. Big…”
“Dick,” she finished, giggling in spite of herself.
A chuckle erupted from the seat in front of them.
“That too.” He grinned. “But I was going to say, pockets.”
“Of course you were.” She took the bottle from his grasp, pulled two swallows, and then handed it back. “Thank you.”
“Thank you?” A furrow developed between his brows. “I expected a bigger fight.”
“How am I going to fight? There’s nowhere to go.”
“I wouldn’t have put it past you to pull the emergency exit and use your jacket as a parachute.”
“There are kids on the plane. Can’t freak them out.”
“That’s mighty nice of you.”
“What can I say, I’m a nice girl.”
He leaned back into the chair and canted his head. “You are. No matter how bad-ass, you have a soft spot.”
“Sharks have soft spots too. But the people who feel it don’t long survive the teeth.”
“I’m tougher than I look.” Street leaned forward. His hands moved slowly, but purposefully over her lap. He grabbed the ends of her lap belt, and then clicked them together. “We’ve started our decent.”
“And you think this will save us in a crash?” she whispered.
“It can’t hurt. Can it?”
There were too many meanings to that question and in his eyes to answer. She grabbed her resolve to flee with both hands and hung on until they hit the gate. They hurried through the tunnel. Having wasted thirty minutes getting off the plane, there were ten left to make it to their connection five gates away.
She headed for the bathroom. “I have to pee. You?”
“I’m straight.”
“Oh, I know that.”
He studied her down the end of his nose. “I don’t have to pee.”
“Okay, will you
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