by Jacey Ward
Curses filled his ears, the furious voice of his air-traffic controller screeching through his headset. The threat of death was imminent but Coy couldn’t help but grin as he reveled in the thrill, suddenly jetting the aircraft upward, evening the plane out.
“You crazy son of a bitch!” Fred shouted into his ear through the earpiece. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Coy laughed merrily and winked at the controller, even though the man couldn’t see him. He shot the Cessna through the clouds toward the lights of the city.
“You say that every time,” Coy chuckled. “And yet you know I’ve never let this baby down. Come on, Fred, admit it. You trust me.”
“Like I have a goddamned choice,” Fred barked, his voice little more than a dry growl. “Jesus Christ, you’re a maniac.”
Coy’s grin widened as a chuckle escaped him, but inside, he was rolling his eyes.
It’s not my fault everyone else has no sense of adventure, he thought, glancing down at the controls to make sure everything was flying smoothly.
“I’m done looking out for you,” the chubby man muttered, more to himself than to Coy but the younger man heard it all the same.
Slowly, he began his descent toward the lit runway, ignoring Fred’s foul mood and landed with seamless precision.
“See? I didn’t die,” Coy teased him, but Fred was too busy spluttering to pay him any mind.
The plane had barely come to a full stop before Fred was threatening him with telling their boss.
“Your father is going to hear about this,” Fred told him as a parting shot and Coy bristled.
“Really?” he sighed. “You’re going to tell my dad?”
Fred didn’t respond and instead switched off the comm link. Coy just sighed, knowing he’d be getting another earful if Fred made good on his threat. He unfolded his large frame and exited the plane, a smile on his face in spite of Fred’s threat.
Until his eyes fell on the limo waiting at the base of the staircase. His stride paused, and he briefly clenched his large hands into fists as he stifled an internal groan. He recognized that car and it meant another unpleasant meeting.
What the hell is he doing here? Coy thought with some anger. Coy wasn’t in the mood to deal with Halstead and his BS, not when he was still riding the high of flying.
There was no avoiding the CEO now though, not when Cosmo Halstead was clearly waiting for Coy to show his face.
The chauffeur appeared, opening the door for him but not a word was spoken until Coy was sealed inside, staring at Halstead. The distinguished older man peered at Coy with a slight disdain.
“Have you been avoiding me, Conway?” the man asked without preamble. “Because that would be a mistake.”
Coy stared at him coldly, shifting his broad shoulders back in a negligent pose.
“Of course not, Cosmo.”
“Then why have you been ignoring my calls?” the billionaire asked, raising an eyebrow dubiously.
“This might come as a huge shock to you, Cosmo, but I have other clients and, believe it or not, a life that doesn’t revolve around you.”
Cosmo’s mouth curled into a sneer of contempt as he leaned across the seat to glare at Coy.
“You won’t have much of a life if you don’t respond to me when I call,” he hissed. “Where are you on the Guttenburg Project?”
“Like I told you before—if I have any news, you’ll be the first to hear about it.”
“That’s not good enough!” Halstead snapped irritably. “I am not one of your degenerate friends who you can talk in circles, Coyle. I paid you a hefty sum to fell this company and you’re taking your sweet ass time delivering results.”
Coy raised a single eyebrow.
“I’m happy to return your meager deposit if you have someone else in mind to get the job done,” he replied evenly, meeting Halstead’s eyes coldly. “Don’t think for a second that your three million buys my toilet paper for the year.”
Coy’s eyes glinted dangerously as Halstead balked.
“I’m just looking for results, Conway. I loathe that I have to hunt you down for answers.”
“You really don’t,” Coy reminded him. “I told you, you’ll see the results you want when Guttenburg goes belly-up, just as you asked.”
“What is the hold-up?” Cosmo insisted. “It’s been six months.”
“Just because you can’t see the company folding in on itself, doesn’t mean it isn’t,” Coy sighed, annoyed that he had to explain the semantics of his work to someone as simplistic as Cosmo Halstead.
Why does money always fall to the undeserving?
It wasn’t like Halstead had earned a penny of his billion-dollar empire. Like his peers, he had been handed everything while the current political climate enabled him to cling to it like the undeserving pig he was.
Nothing is ever good enough for these types, Coy thought, not for the first time. It’s not good enough to have billions of dollars—he needs to annihilate any company that poses a threat to a few bucks of his profits.
Not that Coy should be complaining. If not for assholes like Cosmo Halstead and his ilk, he would be out of business.
And without the resources I need for my real gig, he added silently, running his tongue along the even, white edge of his teeth.
“If you say so,” Halstead said, a note of whininess touching his words. “I’m impatient.”
You’re an overgrown toddler.
“I get it, I do,” Coy said with more patience than he was feeling. “But this is a marathon, not a sprint. Trust me—don’t forget, I come highly recommended.”
He moved toward the door and Halstead grunted.
“Yeah,” the CEO agreed, sighing heavily. “I suppose you’re right.”
Before Coy could jump out of the car, Halstead called out to him again.
“Don’t go dying on me before the job is done.”
Coy looked at him in surprise.
“What’s that now?”
“I saw the stunt you pulled in the air. I know you’re prone to taking risks. I’m just saying, don’t push too hard before the job is done.”
Coy smiled tightly.
“But afterward, I have your blessing?” he asked sweetly. Halstead scowled.
“I don’t give a damn what you do after our business is concluded.”
Is that his way of telling me he hopes I drop dead? How sweet.
“Duly noted, Cosmo.”
Coy exited the car and watched as the limo drove away, leaving him standing outside the hangar. A few minutes later, his father appeared, a disapproving look on his face.
“Coyle…”
“Fred really did tell on me, didn’t he?” Coy scoffed. “What a dickhead.”
“What the hell were you trying to prove up there?”
“Hm?” Coy knew his nonchalance was annoying his father.
“Did you start that storm too?” Ryder growled, pointing at the sky. “God dammit, Coy, what is wrong with you?”
“What storm?” Coy replied, turning his teal eyes toward the sky. Instantly, the driving rain stopped, leaving Ryder to roll his eyes and grunt in frustration as his son smiled. Coy sauntered past his father and headed inside the space, pulling off his baseball cap to release a wild mop of dark curls. His jaw locked, enhancing the chiseled line of his profile.
“You’re pushing it, son,” Ryder snapped. “That plane cost four million – not to mention what your mother would do if you got hurt – unlikely as we all know that is,” he muttered.
“You’re lecturing me like I’m an undisciplined child.”
“You’re acting like an undisciplined child.”
Coy didn’t respond, knowing there was no point in engaging. He and his father had never seen eye to eye on his daredevil ways. Deep down, Coy knew that his father was just worried about him, but it always made him feel as if his father didn’t trust his judgement.
After all, it wasn’t like he’d ever been seriously injure
d – or at least, not for long. His body was something of a miracle. Difficult to damage and unbelievably quick to heal.
“Coy, I know you think you’re unbreakable but you have to know that’s not true—”
“Dad,” he groaned. “I don’t have time for this.”
Ryder’s eyes darkened.
“Oh no? Where do you have to be that’s so important?”
“I have a meeting with a client,” he answered truthfully.
“Isn’t that what you were just doing?” Ryder retorted. “In the limo?”
Coy tensed and addressed his father evenly.
“What are you even doing here tonight, Dad? I thought you and Uncle Xavier had a mission to undertake.”
Coy had blatantly scoffed at working with the family in their endeavors to finally put an end to Oculus and their interference with the Conways. As far as the older two generations were concerned, Coy worked for Conway Holdings only as a pilot, and once in a while as a computer consultant.
Only his two cousins, Audrey and Roan, had an inkling of Coy’s real work. The first and second generations had no clue that the youngest man in the family was playing the most dangerous game of them all.
And Coy needed to keep it that way.
“I don’t know why I bother to argue with you, Coy. You are determined to live like some immortal playboy, but all this shit is going to catch up with you someday. Trust me. It always does.”
“How do you know I’m not immortal?” Coy asked innocently. He was only half-joking. It was a question he’d never truly known the answer to, after all. All he could say for sure was that he was impervious to pain, sickness and injury—and there had been a lot over the years to test his theory.
“If you keep going the way you are, I guess you’ll find out,” Ryder replied, resigned.
“Gee, thanks,” Coy replied. He paused, almost tempted to tell his father to stop fretting, that he had things under control. But as he had so many times before, he kept his mouth shut.
If all goes the way I expect, he and the rest of the family will understand eventually that I’m not the wild hellchild they think me to be.
You’re a thirty-year-old man, Coy reminded himself. You don’t need anyone’s approval.
Wrenching his eyes away from Ryder’s retreating vehicle, he turned back toward the inner office where Fred was collecting his belongings. He avoided Coy’s eyes but the younger man wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily.
“Hey Fred, next time you’re banging Summer in the supply closet, maybe I’ll give your wife a call. You know, since we’re such good buddies, and all.”
Fred looked up defiantly but Coy could see the nervousness behind his eyes.
“I warned you that I was going to tell your father,” he said, but Coy didn’t miss the pleading ring to his tone.
“That’s fine, Fred. We all like to take chances, you know. You just do it by dipping your stick into forbidden pussy,” Coy mocked the philandering dickhead. “I, on the other hand, choose not to hurt anyone else with my adventures.
“But that’s great, Fred,” he continued. “You just stay up there on your pedestal,” Coy snorted, rolling his eyes. “You think I’m reckless but you’re an asshole. Maybe I’m just trying to open your eyes to it.”
Fred stared at him, not sure whether to be insulted or afraid. Coy smothered a sigh and turned to leave.
“I know!” Fred yelled out after him. “I know!”
Coy turned and eyed him.
“You know what?”
“I know that you’re not just some pilot,” Fred rushed on, his robust face almost translucent. “I’m not an idiot.”
Coy felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise but he wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or nervous by the revelation.
“I’ve been employed here for seven years, Coyle. I’d have to be blind not to see what goes on around here.”
Coy’s eyes narrowed into slits and he covered the short distance between them to tower over the man.
“If you know what’s good for you,” he hissed. “You should keep your opinions to yourself.”
Fred’s face paled more if possible and he stepped back as if Coy’s dark lashed eyes burned into him.
“I-I’m just saying that—”
“I’m saying that you should keep your trap shut.”
Fred balked and nodded, darting his eyes away.
“Understood,” he mumbled, shuffling away but Coy found himself watching the man walk away.
Maybe he’s not as dim as I initially thought, he mused, but Coy didn’t have time to consider how Fred might hurt his cause at the moment; he had an appointment to keep.
He locked up the inner office after snatching his jacket off the back of the chair and closed the hangar. It was a bemusing irony that Ryder seemed to mistrust his son’s judgement about anything concerning safety, but he had no issue leaving Coy to lock up the millions of dollars in aircraft equipment at the hangar.
That’s because he doesn’t know how I make my living.
He imagined if Ryder had any idea how large his only child’s bank balance was, there would be serious hell to pay. Grown man or not, it wouldn’t save him. The Conway family was powerful, individually and as a group. If the family knew how often Coy put himself in front of Oculus to fight this war, they’d lock him up so fast that even his extraordinary powers wouldn’t be able to help him.
Just one more reason that Dad and the rest of the clan can never find out what I do.
He slipped into his Escalade and scanned the area as if by rote, looking for any indication that something was amiss.
What a life—constantly looking over our shoulders. When does it ever end?
He steered his vehicle into the non-existent traffic of I-83 and headed north to meet his newest client.
It was after midnight and Coy reveled in the peace of the night. With his foot pressed heavily against the gas, he made his way toward the suburbs, forcing out all other thoughts as he drove.
Soon, he exited off the interstate and headed toward the address on his GPS but as he neared the neighborhood, the hairs on his arms rose as if warning him of something.
He slowed the vehicle, pulse quickening inexplicably. His eyes scanned the darkness thoroughly as he worked to slow his heart rate.
What the hell?
The sensation was oddly familiar but he couldn’t say why exactly. Suddenly, the burner phone rang beside him and he stared at it for a long moment.
“Yeah?” he barked into the mouth piece.
“Sir, Mr. Collingwood was expecting you fifteen minutes ago,” a voice intoned in his ear.
“You can tell Mr. Collingwood I’ll get there when I get there,” Coy retorted, disconnecting the call. He already didn’t like this guy.
But like all the others, Collingwood had a role to play in his plans and Coy was not one to lose the opportunity for more intel when he could get it.
Steeling himself, he pulled away from the curb and continued the drive toward the mansion where the GPS instructed and found himself staring at a wrought iron gate. Once again, an overwhelmingly strong feeling took him but it was impossible to pinpoint from where it stemmed.
Without speaking or addressing the intercom, the gates slid inward, permitting Coy to enter and he guided the silver Escalade toward the circular drive and stopped.
Something’s wrong. Something’s off.
Was it Collingwood? It didn’t seem that it could be—as with every potential client, Coy had vetted the man thoroughly. After all, he wasn’t about to engage in a criminal venture with someone who didn’t have more to lose than he did.
Slowly, he stepped out of the SUV, his eyes darting around for anything to tip him off to vulnerability. He counted four cameras but he had already known about them, as well as the two security guards and four dogs whom he couldn’t see but were undoubtedly watching him.
Cautiously, he made his way up the steps. His gut was lurching but it wasn’t te
lling him to run per se. If it had, he would have simply gone. Excellent instincts weren’t a supernatural power of his, but they were pretty damn sharp anyways.
No, there was something else, something mystifying about what he was experiencing and suddenly, his apprehension was replaced by excitement at what he might find behind the door.
The chiseled muscles in his thighs tensed, ready for action as he stabbed at the doorbell and waited.
Whatever was waiting for him on the other side of that door was just another adventure.
And if Coyle loved anything, it was taking chances.
Chapter 2
The loud gasp woke her from a deep sleep. Shay was doused in sweat as her eyes tore around the room.
Calm down. You’re home, she told herself instantly, as she waited for the panic to subside. But it didn’t. Even though she knew she had managed to stay put on this night.
Half of the time, she found herself waking in the middle of a run, halfway to DC, barely clothed and shocked to her core. She was inherently grateful that she was in her bed that night but the fact didn’t do much to steady her nerves.
Her breaths still escaped in short, uneven rasps like she was shaking off a nightmare.
Was that what it had been? A bad dream?
Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and padded toward the window, overlooking the front yard.
An unfamiliar SUV was parked out front but that was hardly unusual; her father had people coming and going constantly.
Why, then, couldn’t she stop staring at the vehicle?
And why won’t my heartrate return to normal?
She was deeply unsettled, but couldn’t understand why. Something was bothering her but it had nothing to do with her warped sleeping habits.
Reaching for her robe, Shay moved toward the door, a long tendril of hair slipping from the loose bun over her head. To her relief, none of her father’s goons were patrolling the second-floor halls, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t apt to run into them down the line.
