Behind Closed Doors (Behind Closed Doors #1)(27)

“Coffee’s my vice,” I say, leaving sin out of the picture, and relieved that the bottle is not his. “Anything else will put me to sleep and I have a poker tournament to enjoy.” I eye JJ. “What Jason’s having, make it two.”

“Two of whatever he’s having coming up,” he confirms, his attention shifting toward Jason. “I have your normal dinner order on its way. Should that be amended?”

Jason glances at me. “There’s a killer pizza place here, and I usually order a large cheese and a large pepperoni. You game?”

“Who isn’t game for pizza?” I ask, laughing, and deciding I really love how easygoing he is. “Cheese and pepperoni are both great.”

“Pizza it is, then,” he confirms, eyeing JJ. “The usual.”

It hits me then that if the “usual” is two large pizzas, he must travel with an entourage of people, most likely women. And I can’t forget that I’m just another topping on his pizza while he has to stay just another notch on my barely used belt.

“We’ll be ready for liftoff as soon as the service items arrive,” JJ promises.

My stomach churns. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”

JJ’s brows furrow. “Say things like what?”

“Liftoff,” I say. “I don’t need the reminder we’re about to be dangling in the air.”

JJ and Jason exchange a look and a laugh. “We aren’t going to be dangling,” Jason assures me. “We have engines.” He eyes JJ. “Bring her a bottle of tequila just in case she needs it.”

“Tequila, coffee, and pizza, coming right up,” JJ says, turning away.

“Not tequila,” I tell him, while Jason says, “JJ, wait.”

JJ turns to face us again, and Jason asks him, “Can you have the MGM book an extra room next to mine for Skye?”

I’m taken off guard but pleased by the question, while JJ’s expression registers momentary shock, which he quickly blanks. “Consider it done.”

“Great, thank you,” Jason says.

“Anything else?” JJ asks.

“Keep that bottle of tequila for yourself, on me,” he says. “And make it a good one.”

“Unnecessary, but thank you,” JJ says, giving a little bow before he heads to the door.

Jason is generous, keeps his promises, and has excellent manners. I’m beyond seduced, I’m melting, and he’s not even touching me. I swivel to face him. “Thank you for doing that.”

“No thanks needed. I promised you a room.”

“And you made sure JJ didn’t think I was just another woman along for the ride. You gave me respect.”

“You make it sound like I walk around with supermodels draped on my arms.”

“No. I . . . ah . . . It’s just—”

“In fact, I don’t invite people into my private space at all. And this plane, and my pre-game rituals, which are damn near sacrosanct to me, qualify as that space.”

“But you said—”

“That I f*cked my way into trouble—yes, I did. I slept with Stephanie several times, at a private event run by the man I mentioned already. She works for him.”

“Won’t he suspect her as the thief, if this comes out?”

“I’ll damn sure do everything I can to guarantee he knows it was her and not me, but it’s very possible she went into hiding for that very reason. Like I said, this is not a man to cross, and she knows that well. Everyone knows that.” He scrubs his jaw. “Had I stayed true to my rule of never f*cking around in my own backyard, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“What do you mean by your own backyard?”

“She lives in San Francisco, and that’s way too close to that personal space I told you I don’t let people inside.”

“And yet I live in San Francisco, and I’m in your personal space.”

He draws my hand into his. “I need your trust, Skye. People I care about need me to convince you to trust me.” There is a raw, raspy quality to his voice. “Surely you know what it’s like to love someone and need to protect them.”

I don’t, and it’s a gaping wound inside me that I cannot seem to seal—but then another bad thought hits me. “I feel like . . . I’m holding you captive, almost blackmailing you.” I hold up a hand. “Not literally. I mean, I wish I could just give you the storage unit.”

He shifts in his seat, rotating more fully to face me. “You can.”

“I probably will, but . . .”

“But?”

I inhale and let the breath out, daring to enter the territory that worries me. “Why did Stephanie leave her things in a storage unit? Where is she? Surely your private investigator has some idea?”

“He doesn’t. By the time I hired him, she’d moved her things to the unit. And I don’t think her doing so is a good sign for me.”

I don’t either, but my fear is for her. His seems otherwise. “Because of the man you mentioned?”

“She doesn’t want to be found. Not by him, not by me, and not by the police, should I risk taking that path. To me, that says she intends to take this blackmail all the way, wherever that may lead. And I can’t believe she’s in this alone.”