Jacked Up (Bowen Boys #4)(19)

Biggs recoiled, huffed. “You’re lucky I’m in a hurry, because this is not the end. I will have your job,” he threatened Elle as he grabbed the boarding pass and left.

“Have a nice flight,” she said, waving at him, and then whispered to Jack, “Wait till he sees the seat I picked out for him. This is a trip he won’t forget anytime soon.”

Jack shook his head. “Why didn’t you tip off the police he was smuggling drugs?”

“Already did that once. He got arrested and his ass probed. I try to mix it up,” she answered, winking at him. “You know, to keep it entertaining.”

Louise laughed. “You’re diabolical.”

Just evening the odds.

“When you get off? You could come for a beer. The Borg too,” Louise said.

“She’s off already,” Jack answered for Elle and then turned to her. “No beer. Now let’s go to your office.”

“You could wait here.”

“Not a chance in hell,” he said with a snort. “You’re not ditching me again.”

Damn. He’d read her. Although she was sure the security checks wouldn’t have stopped Jack from charging in to drag her ass out. Then again, him chasing her on the tarmac would have been a sight to behold.

She gestured for him to follow her. She might as well get it over with, because this was a battle she wasn’t winning. “Let the record reflect that I’m doing this just to humor you and to avoid a scene. I’ll arrange some time off, if you agree to get off my back with my other activities. Oh, and if Biggs is back, I will be back too. Non-negotiable.”

“This is not a democracy. We already had a deal in place. A deal I didn’t need to make. Don’t tempt your luck.”

She rolled her eyes. How generous of him.

The second she got to her locker, she was so debugging her bag.

As she walked into her boss’s office, she heard Jack say, “And get it in writing.”

God. This…partnership of theirs was going to end up very badly. Murderously so.



“We’re taking my truck,” Jack said, staring at Elle’s ride. There was no way he was getting into that slick, tiny sports car.

“Why?”

He looked at himself and then at the car, which barely reached his waist, and cocked his eyebrow. “Why do you think? Not to mention it’s f*cking girlie.”

She patted the hood of the car. “Don’t listen to him, René, you’re very masculine. The Borg is being mean on purpose.”

René. Of course she’d named it. So f*cking Elle. And that sports car was so her too. A hot little package. A tease.

He’d observed while she’d smiled at her boss and managed to get time off without any notice whatsoever. The supervisor had given her five personal days so she could go right away and had agreed to file the paperwork for family leave with the human resources department. All that at an airline famous for being notoriously understaffed on the best of days. Elle got absolutely whatever she wanted from men, which Jack couldn’t stand. She’d played with that Biggs too. By the look of it, he was a complete * but that didn’t take away from the fact that she was putting him through the wringer. Toying with him. Just for fun.

Too bad Jack didn’t seem to remember that when she was close and her scent was all over him, filling his nostrils and driving him mad with lust.

“We could take separate cars,” she suggested.

Right.

“Come on, my truck is over there.” He would get René later on.

When they made it to his ride, she whistled. “Cool. Can I drive?”

“Nope. As long as I’m around, I’m driving and you’re riding shotgun. And that’s the best of the scenarios, because if you piss me off too badly, you’ll be sitting in the back.” Or on the roof. On second thought, forget the roof. She’d actually enjoy that.

“Spoilsport.”

“Besides,” he continued, “you drive like a homicidal maniac.”

“I do not.”

Jack shook his head, ignoring her. “Can’t understand how they let you drive at the airport.”

“I had to pass an exam to get my airport driver’s license.”

Which she probably got by smiling and fluttering her eyelashes. His expression might have been too evident, for she added, “And I passed it fair and square. I may drive a bit fast, but we flight dispatchers are busy people. We have places to go, planes to get to.”

“People to run over,” Jack muttered as the engine roared on their way out of the parking lot.

She chuckled, not taking offense. “That too.”

“Next time that f*cker Biggs is going to fly, you should put him in a boarding bus and play Mad Max with him.”

“I might.”

“You are making that bastard’s life miserable just for fun.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Which are?”

“None of your concern. About today’s schedule,” she said, changing the subject. “I need to go to Rosita’s to supervise prep, but before that, there’s somewhere I need to be at six o’clock.”

“Where?”

“At the square in front of the train station.”