Full Throttle (Black Knights Inc. #7)(89)
He looked like he was inclined to argue, but the captain came over the intercom telling them they’d begun their initial descent into Reagan International Airport, and the moment was lost…
*
Abby cracked a lid, peeking over at Carlos in the seat next to her. Huh. I thought super-secret black-ops warriors were supposed to hop-to from a dead sleep at the slightest rustle. But even the captain’s announcement wasn’t enough to stir Carlos. His head was thrown back against the window, his mud-crusted arms crossed over his filthy tank top, his legs stretched across the aisle where the toe of his left jungle boot touched the brace on her seat. The quick-and-dirty field dressing the SEALs had applied to his frickin’ bullet wound—scratch or not, it was still a frickin’ bullet wound!—stood out in sharp white contrast to his dark, swarthy skin.
He looked awful. And wonderful. And so damn heroic. Which made sense considering that’s exactly what he was. A hero. Her hero. She could not believe he’d been willing to sacrifice himself for her.
Oh, wait…
Yes, she could. Because that’s exactly the kind of man he was. And that was the whole reason she’d been feigning sleep for nearly fifteen hours. She couldn’t bring herself to face him and all his gallantry and courage and…love?
Just as it’d being doing the whole plane ride, her heart fluttered and flitted around inside her chest like that group of sphinx moths that had moved through the Botanic Garden last May. And like those moths—who had died when a late-season frost set in—she worried the sorry organ wouldn’t survive what was coming next.
Had he told her he loved her right before he walked out into the middle of that logging road? Sitting there, eyes closed, not moving, barely breathing, she’d replayed the scene in her mind’s eye time and again. This is our only chance, he’d said, following that up with, And by the way…what? It had sounded like I love you. But no matter how often she rehashed it, she couldn’t believe it.
I misheard him, right? It’s the only thing that makes sense.
After all, they hadn’t seen each other in eight years. And great sex—the most amazing, mind-bending, soul-shredding sex—aside, they were still virtual strangers.
Except we’re not…
The truth was, she knew everything about him. The important things anyway. That he was gallant and loyal and true. Funny and so wonderfully smart-alecky when he wanted to be. And he knew her, too. Because despite that one thing, that one unforgiveable thing, she was still the same young woman he’d teased and tormented, laughed and joked with.
So maybe it was possible he loved her. For heavens to Betsy’s sake, twenty-four hours ago she’d thought it unimaginable he could actually want her, see her as anything but that naive young girl she’d been. And look how wrong she’d been about that.
Her mind jumped back to the hot, humid hut. To salacious words whispered in her ear. To hard hands stroking her trembling flesh, and soft lips teasing and tormenting her as he thrust the long, thick length of himself inside. So deeply. So forcefully. So—
She shook away the memory when a rush of liquid heat pulsed between her thighs. Back to the question at hand. The question of whether or not it was possible Carlos might actually be in love with her. Because she sure as shit loved him. Loved him with every breath she took, every move she made, every bond she…
Holy ass, and now she was channeling an old Sting song. No, no. That was back when Sting was still with the Police, right? And…what the leaping lizard dung did any of that matter? Except to prove how exhausted, how flat-out bone-tired she was. Her brain was mush, her synapses firing out a bunch of nonsensical…uh…lizard dung. Oh, and lookie! They were obviously stuck in a loop, too.
Good. Great. Gah!
She shifted, her elbow aching where it was pressed against the armrest. And just like that, Carlos’s eyes flew open. He hadn’t flinched when the captain’s voice boomed over the intercom, hadn’t stirred when the plane started its descent and the pressure inside the cabin caused her ears to pop. But the instant she moved…bam! He was awake. Dark, sparkling, completely lucid eyes focused on her.
“Good morning, ne?a.” His mouth curved into a slow, sexy grin. She had to look away.
Glancing out the window, she noted how the sinking sun cast a golden glow over the city below, shining over the Capitol building and the Washington Monument. It bathed their white exteriors in a rosy pink hue. She should be happy to be home. But for the life of her, she could take no comfort in the familiar sights. Because the end of her time with Carlos was quickly approaching.
“I think it’s more like good evening,” she said, apropos of nothing.
“Mmm.” He stretched, lifting his arms above his head and yawning mightily before pushing into a seated position. Tilting his head from side to side, the little snapping sounds of his vertebrae were heartbreakingly familiar. And he was so frickin’ beautiful. So wonderful and fierce and kind and…perfect. And hers. At least he had been for a little while. But that was all about to change. Just as soon as she told him the truth about Rosa.
Which was another reason she’d been feigning sleep. She’d wanted…no…she’d needed a few more hours to gather her courage, to gather her wits, to try to find the right words to tell him—
The plane dipped, beginning its slow, lazy turn as the pilot aligned it with the runway. “Mierda. Are we here already? Did I sleep the whole way?”