Ruined With You

by J. Kenner

  The windows behind me are small, which seems a shame, but I assume that has something to do with air pressure. I’m not afraid of heights, and I wish that one entire wall could be glass so that I could see the world disappearing beneath us.

  I turn and look toward the front. Liam is still talking, standing with Talia and a man in uniform who I assume is the pilot. I notice an open folding door that probably serves as a barrier between the crew and us. Since it’s open now, I can see what I’m pretty sure is the kitchen area—called the galley, I think—and beyond that I see the cockpit, where another man in uniform is adjusting knobs on a complicated console.

  I catch Liam’s eye, and he smiles, then hands a clipboard and pen back to Talia, who trades him for the highball glass.

  A moment later, he’s beside me. “Share your sofa?”

  “Not with just anyone,” I say, then make a show of looking him up and down. “But you’ll do.”

  He grins, settles in next to me, and takes a sip of his bourbon before taking my hand. I sigh. The circumstances aren’t ideal—we’re off to trap a bad guy—but other than that, I could get used to this.

  “I never thought to ask,” he says. “Have you been on a private jet before?”

  Considering he knows my history, I understand that he’s really asking if I was one of the girls selected to go out into the world and party. Girls taken in private jets to private islands. Girls who wore fancy clothes and tiny bikinis, assuming they were lucky. Girls who often never came back, and while those of us left behind liked to pretend that they were being treated like princesses on tropical islands, we knew it was more likely that they were dead. Or worse.

  “They only kept me in New York,” I say. “Actually, this is only my second time on a plane at all. Ellie doesn’t like to fly, and with the band and the equipment it’s easier to go by bus. Now that she’s getting huge, though, I think she’s going to have to start going the private jet route. Too much time wasted on the road.”

  “Your second time,” Liam says thoughtfully. “You told me Corbu’s fake modeling agency paid for your plane ticket, so I’m guessing that was the second time. When was the first?”

  “My mom and dad took me to Disneyland when I was five. I know we flew, but I don’t remember that part at all. Or Disneyland, really.”

  “Not at all? That’s terribly sad.”

  “Well, I remember the colors, and I remember princess dresses. They must have made a big impression, because for years I imagined myself in a princess dress.” My imagination suddenly conjures me in just such a dress with Liam beside me in black tie and tails.

  I look up, feeling a bit ridiculous, and see him smiling enigmatically back at me. I mentally cringe, wondering if he actually read my strange thoughts.

  I don’t have time to worry about it, though, because a moment later, the captain’s voice comes over the intercom, telling us to be sure that we’re buckled up for takeoff. Talia sits in the galley in what Liam tells me is called a jump seat.

  Soon we’re moving, and it feels almost like being in a car until we get to the runway and start to pick up speed. We move faster and faster, and I’m starting to think that nothing is going to happen at all, when I suddenly feel the angle of the plane shift slightly. There’s a sensation of something building and building, and then, finally, a sudden, cathartic release.

  I look down and realize that I’ve been squeezing Liam’s hand so hard my knuckles are white. He looks at me, his expression both gentle and concerned. “Are you okay?”

  I nod and release his hand. “I don’t know why I grabbed on so tight. I’m not scared at all. I promise. That was magnificent.”

  “A little like sex?”

  I glance down, weirdly shy, but I agree, and I’m sure he knows it.

  A moment later he tilts my chin up and kisses me gently. “Thank you for doing this.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. It’s my ass on the line, remember?”

  “I know, but we’re moving faster than we expected, in a direction that we’re not entirely sure about.”

  “I know.” Since Winston and Liam suspect that Rye has been feeding information to Noyce through Mouse Face and Square Jaw, they decided to set up a sting to grab Square Jaw who, hopefully, can lead us to Noyce. Although, as Trevor mentioned in our pre-departure meeting, it’s likely that Noyce has left the country altogether, and the best we’ll be able to do is interrogate him—and hopefully use him to track his boss. That wouldn’t be the ideal outcome, but I know it’s likely. It means I’m a target for longer, of course, but at least I’ll still have Liam beside me.

  The plan is for Winston to tell Ella that I’ve gone to New York. He’ll say that I’m staying with Liam in his Manhattan apartment while he uses some of his old resources to hopefully track down more information on Noyce. The hope is that Rye will get the impression that I’ll be spending a lot of time alone in Liam’s apartment while he’s off doing his thing.

  Of course, that won’t be true. But if the bait works to lure in Square Jaw, aka Patrick Weil, or Noyce, then maybe—just maybe—I’ll be able to live a life where I’m not constantly looking over my shoulder.

  “And you’re sure you’re comfortable doing this?” Liam asks me.

  I laugh. “Of course, I am. Besides, it’s too late now. We’re already airborne.”

  “Well, I could always divert to Paris.”

  “Sadly, I didn’t think to bring my nonexistent passport,” I quip. I squeeze his hand. “Seriously, I’m fine, and we need to do this. We need to get it over with. I need it to be over.”

  All of that is true, of course. But my biggest fear is that once this threat is out of my life, Liam will be, too. But I don’t have a choice. I have to get free; I have to break these chains so that I can have a life.

  He studies me, then finally seems convinced that I mean what I say.

  “All right, then. Give me a few minutes to check a couple of things, and then we’ll figure out a way to occupy the rest of the trip.”

  I grin at the thought of what we might figure out, then lean back, thinking about what is in store for us next. The ultimate destination is his apartment, but we’re heading first to Long Island to stay overnight with his friend Dallas Sykes in Southampton, along with his very pregnant and bedridden wife Jane, a part of the equation that Rye isn’t privy to.

  The practical purpose of the detour is to pull in Dallas’s help with both information and building a team. But since Liam grew up with both of them, and they are both his best friends, he says he wants me to meet them, along with his mother. I’m flattered and a little heart-fluttery, but I’m trying not to read too much into that, because what I want it to mean is that Liam wants to stay with me even once I’m clear of the threat. But that’s not something I can assume—I know his fears, his worries. And I know that I can’t convince him not to be afraid. I can only hope he convinces himself.

  Since that isn’t something I want to think about, I distract myself by flipping through an entertainment magazine until Liam closes his laptop and turns to me.

  “All done?” I ask.

  “All done,” he says, then gets up, says something to Talia, and closes the door between us and the galley.

  I raise a brow when he turns back to me. “So, you said you had ideas for occupying the rest of the flight,” I prompt.

  “I’m full of ideas. We could talk, read, watch a movie ... or I could turn on the Do Not Disturb light and induct you into the mile high club. Your call.”

  “I love a guy who supports new experiences,” I say, relishing the tingly sense of anticipation spreading through me.

  “I’m very glad to hear it.” He pushes the button for privacy and returns to the sofa. And as the plane continues to climb, I surrender to what I hope is not one of the very last times I will be with this man.

  There’s a car waiting for us when we land at a private airport somewhere on Long Island. A limo, actually, and Liam tells me that Dallas sent it f
or us. The driver, a man about Liam’s age with bright red hair and a goatee, greets Liam as Mr. Foster and me as Ms. Morgan. He opens the rear door for us with a flourish, his arm indicating that we should get in.

  Liam nods at me to go first, then hesitates before joining me. “Good to see you, Roger. But what the hell is up with all the pomp and circumstance?”

  I lean forward to see better, and watch as the man’s firm shoulders go slack and his expressionless face breaks out into a grin. “Damn, buddy, but I’m glad you’re back. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was with our guest.”

  Liam bends over and meets my eyes. “Xena, this is Roger. Roger, Xena. She’s... ” He hesitates for a moment, then says, “She’s with me.”

  Roger bobs his head, the ginger strands catching the sunlight. “Nice to meet you. Shouldn’t take too long to get you to the house. Traffic’s light.”

  He shuts the door, and Liam and I are alone in the back of the limousine. The privacy barrier is up, and I expect that Roger will open it since he and Liam are clearly friends, but he gives us our privacy, and I turn to Liam and ask who the guy is.

  “He’s exactly who he seems to be,” Liam says. “He’s one of Dallas’s drivers. He also used to do odd jobs for Deliverance. He’s a good guy, and he and his family have been working for the Sykes family since we were in elementary school. So I know him well.”

  We pass quaint shopping areas with coffee shops dotting the sidewalks, and everything has that shiny, polished sheen that comes from money. From there we move into more residential areas, and as we get further and further in, the houses become more and more impressive.

  As we drive, Liam points out a few landmarks—restaurants, clubs, the houses of people he knows as well as people he doesn’t, but who have a reputation.

  The entire area seems to bleed money, and each home feels more and more lush until finally we turn onto a private drive leading up to a stunning multistory mansion that even compared to what I’ve seen driving through the ritzier areas of LA looks like a residence for a foreign prince.

  “This is where you grew up?” I can’t help but gawk at this incredible place that rises in front of me like a castle in the middle of a street full of castles. “This is beyond amazing.”

  “It is,” he says. “Not that I realized it when I was a kid. My mother never made a big deal about it. Not about the fact that the house was over-and-above, not about the fact that the Sykes family has more money than the gross national product of many small countries, not about any of it. And certainly not about the fact that we weren’t in that income bracket ourselves. She was the help, and I was her son, and that was why we were there.”

  “She sounds like a great mom. Down to earth.”

  His eyes warm. “She is. And she never encouraged or discouraged my friendship with Dallas. As far as she was concerned, she was an employee, but I was a guest. And the family saw it that way, too.”

  The house is even more impressive as we get closer, and I can tell it’s larger than I originally thought. “She was the housekeeper? That place is huge.”

  “The head of a team,” he clarifies. “Nowadays, she’s the only one who lives on site, though. Her and Archie.”

  “Archie?”

  “Butler,” he says. “In name, anyway. He was also part of the support for Deliverance. I wish you could meet him, but he took his annual vacation early so he’d be home for Jane’s due date.”

  “What about your mom? Did she know, too? I thought Deliverance was a secret.”

  “She knows now. She didn’t always.” He sighs as the car comes to a stop in the drive. “Anyway, this is it. This is my childhood home.”

  “It’s amazing.”

  “I know it is.” I can hear the emotion in his voice, but can’t quite place it. A bit of melancholy mixed with pride, maybe. “It’s a special place,” he says. “But it wasn’t until I was older and on my own that I realized what a gift it was to be part of the family.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Wow,” I say as we step through the massive double doors that lead into a stunning entryway full of natural light.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Liam says.

  I’m about to agree, when I hear a rich, cultured voice say, “My father intended this room to welcome, impress, and intimidate his guests.” The words seem to hover in the air, as if drifting down from the heavens. “Somewhat contradictory goals, I’ll admit. But I think he accomplished it. Then again, Eli Sykes is a man who tends to do whatever he sets his mind to.”

  The voice is coming from the man standing at the top of the ornate wooden stairs. He’s tall and lean, and his broad shoulders strain against the simple gray T-shirt he’s wearing. His hair is dark brown with hints of blond, as if it’s been sun-kissed, and even from this distance I can see his vivid green eyes.

  Dallas Sykes. I’ve seen his photograph on social media and in tabloids for years, but they don’t do justice to the man.

  “And you aren’t?” Liam asks as Dallas strides down the stairs with the easy gait of a man who is completely at home in his surroundings. Makes sense, I suppose. This is his home, after all.

  “I never said I wasn’t,” Dallas counters. “Then again, I usually go after what I want with less subtlety. Father builds mansions. I take a less metaphorical approach to what I want to accomplish. Right now,” he adds with a flash of his famous smile, “I want to meet Xena.”

  “Oh,” I say, a little shaken to be on this man’s radar. “Hi.” I take his outstretched hand, finding his handshake as firm as one would expect from a man so self-possessed.

  “Liam’s told me a lot about you.”

  “Oh,” I say again, wondering where my vocabulary skittered off to. I glance at Liam, who just smiles and shrugs.

  “Good things,” Liam assures me, with a smile that has just enough heat to make me blush, because I’m certain that Dallas has picked up on that, too.

  “Listen, Jane is dying to meet you, but she just woke up and asked if we could give her half an hour or so to shake off the sleep. No caffeine on bed rest,” he adds with a grim smile to me. “There are a lot of reasons I’ll be happy when the baby arrives. Not long now.”

  “Don’t get too eager. She’ll probably stay off a while longer if she’s breastfeeding.”

  He nods slightly. “I’ve thought about that, but I think the trade-off is worth it. A father,” he says with so much awe in his voice it almost melts my heart. “Can you believe it?” he asks Liam.

  “Hell, no,” Liam says, his expression deadpan except for his eyes, which totally give him away. A smile bursts onto his face, as if he just can’t hold it in any longer. “Damn, buddy, part of me can’t believe you’re going to be a father, and the other part can’t believe you two waited this long.”

  “You better believe it,” he says. “You’re going to be the godfather.”

  “Damn right I am.”

  “Are you having a boy or a girl?” I ask.

  “That’s a question for our doctor,” Dallas says. “Although she won’t tell you. Strict orders that no one knows until the birth. And that includes me and Jane.”

  “That’s fabulous,” I say. “I love that you’re doing that.”

  “Thanks,” he says, sounding sincere. “I’ll put you in a room with our parents. They think we’re insane.” He glances at his watch. “I told Jane I’d bring her some herbal tea. Liam, you know where we are. Show Xena around, introduce her to your mom before Helen heads back to the cottage, and by that time Jane should be human again.”

  Liam nods. “You know I’m going to tell her you said that, right?”

  Dallas looks at me. “He always liked her best.”

  “She’s cuter than you are.”

  “Can’t argue with that. Xena,” he adds to me, “it’s a pleasure. We’ll talk more soon.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “It’s terrific to meet you.”

  He heads off, and Liam takes my hand, leading me past the staircase tow
ard the rear of the house. I’m no stranger to luxury—the complex I lived in until I managed to escape was a gilded cage, and the mansions that we were sometimes transported to for parties and events were always ornate, even high-class, if something used for such a perverted purpose can be considered high-class.

  This place, however, is different. It’s clear that everything is high quality and undoubtedly expensive. It’s beautiful and luxurious, but it’s also comfortable. It’s a home, I realize, and that makes it all the more special.

  I tell as much to Liam, trying to put my thoughts into words and afraid that I’m failing miserably. But he gets it. Maybe I’m doing a better job expressing myself, I think—or maybe he just gets me.

  Either way, he lifts our joined hands and brushes a kiss over my knuckles, the gesture so offhand that I’m not even sure he realizes that he’s doing it.

  We meander down long hallways, and I rubberneck, taking in everything as we walk. “What’s that?” I ask, noticing clear glass discs mounted just under the ceiling at almost every corner.

  “Security system,” he says. “The house is equipped with a silent alarm. The discs are unobtrusive, but when the alarm is tripped, the glass flashes blood red. It turns solid red once the system contacts 911, which it does if no one disarms it within ninety seconds.”

  “That’s fast. How far do you have to sprint to disarm it?”

  “Not far. We all have the system controls on our phones. Dallas has it on his watch, too.”

  “So if I run in and out of the house, Dallas’s arm is going to buzz? Sounds like a sadistic form of entertainment.”

  “You’re a strange woman.”

  “A little,” I admit.

  “And yes,” he says, “unless the system’s been disarmed for that particular door. The windows are always armed for breakage, and the perimeter of the yard has sensors that turn on video monitoring systems. There’s more—with a family this wealthy, there’s always more—but the bottom line is that they’re safe here. And,” he adds as he holds my gaze, “you’re safe here, too. I promise.”