Page 27 of Reckless Woman
“What the hell?” The kid’s expression is teenage outrage, until he sees my gun. “Hey man,” he whimpers. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Get the fuck out of the car then,” I say calmly, turning to his date. “You, too, sweetheart. Take your first base elsewhere and leave me the keys.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m climbing aboard the jet and swapping looks with Eli.
We’re in the air before the cops are even dusting prints off of the SUV’s steering wheel.
That’s how fucking good I am.
* * *
I’mon the phone to Simon as soon as we’re in the air. When his cell rings out four times in a row, my hunger to reach Miami turns into an obsession even bleaker than the sky outside. Heavy storm clouds are rolling in from the east, but there’s danger lurking in every corner of the horizon.
Exhaling on a curse, I reach for the Macallan in front of me. That edginess I’ve felt since Texas just morphed into something that tastes like unease.
I need Anna safe in my arms.
I need her to be okay.
I just fucking need her.
Taking a deep swig from the bottle, the liquor settles like burning oil on my tongue. Our story is a mess. It’s a love without convention. We were founded in her ruins, before she laid siege to my ice castle.
If I lose her, I lose myself.
Or what’s left of me.
After leaving Simon another message, I tap out the number for the rehab center as the aircraft shivers and shakes. The sky outside my cabin window splits with white light. Moments later, a clap of thunder joins the party.
“Green’s Therapy,” chirps a voice. “How may I direct your—?”
“I need to speak with Anna Williams.” I cut the receptionist off mid-flow, shot-gunning that sweet little birdy with my harsh demand. “She checked in yesterday.”
“Is this a personal call?”
“I’m her fiancé.”
A dark, cloying need to possess her rises up inside me.I’ll kill anyone who tries to tear us apart.
“I’m afraid we don’t accept these types of calls for patients,” she trills. “We discourage any contact with outside influences, except on Wednesdays and Sundays.”
Outside influences?They should be more worried about the one inside their own four walls.
It’s only Tuesday. In the next twenty-four hours, Anna could be killed, or worse.
“Listen ma’am, I don’t have time for your bullshit rules.”
“I understand that, sir,” she says patiently. “Perhaps if you leave a message with her therapist…?”
“Fuck her therapist,” I roar, hanging up and finishing off the rest of the bottle.
Unclipping my belt, I stagger up the aisle toward the cockpit. Eli and his co-pilot, Andy, glance up as I enter.
“Grayson.”
“How far are we from Miami?”
Eli adjusts a dial on the MFD and switches back to autopilot. “Two hours, give or take the air temperature and density.”