body crisscrossed with scars and tattoos—she was a sucker for both—with muscle cording that solid frame like he’d been carved from stone and his hands, calloused and rough like a real man’s should be, touching her bare skin with urgency.
Yeah, that kind of loving was hard to forget.
It didn’t help that she’d been in a bit of a drought, either—did three years qualify as a drought or a cry for help?—and she’d been about ready to hump the table leg.
The liquor had only made that need for human contact worse.
Most people didn’t understand their job, how ending an assignment successfully is an adrenaline rush unlike any drug and if that adrenaline wasn’t channeled, it turned restless, which with their demons, was dangerous.
Blowing off steam was a necessity, not a luxury. Usually, she went off on her own but that night she’d needed companionship.
She’d known better than to drink with the guys, especially Xander, but she’d been weak. There was no way to pretty that up and she hated that she’d succumbed to her baser needs with barely a fight.
But there’d always been something between her and Xander, that tiny spark that was hard to ignore. The way his eyes sparkled with mischief most days made her stomach tremble and when that intensity swiveled her way, she about melted in the most feminine way imaginable.
And it freaked her out.
Scarlett was more comfortable with the prospect of shooting people than opening up to another human being. Being vulnerable—no, thanks.
So why’d she let down her guard with Xander? Hell, she wished she knew. Maybe if she’d gone home that night, she would’ve spent some quality time with her vibrator and then gone to bed alone. Maybe if that’d been her course of action, she wouldn’t be threatening her career for a man who may or may not be guilty.
She glanced over at him. He seemed pretty chill for a guy who was on the run but that was Xander’s gift. He never crumbled under pressure—a quality she admired—but would it kill him to show just a smidge of human emotion. His life was on the line, for crying out loud.
Not even a thank-you for risking her ass for his. Typical Xander, but she couldn’t complain too much. He hadn’t asked for her help or for her involvement. She bought tickets to this shit show all on her own.
Scarlett blew out a short breath, shaking her head as she replaced the magazine in the mesh compartment on the backside of the seat in front of her.
The thing about alcohol, it did more than drop panties... It dropped walls.
Walls that were there for a reason.
Scarlett shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with her memories.
How much had she told him about her past? The night was an erotic blur for the most part but she remembered lying in his arms afterward, a feeling of safety overriding her usual need for distance.
It had left her with a vague sense of disquiet, wondering if she was missing out on something potentially great. But by morning, all that had remained was the intense need to forget any of it had happened.
Shaking off the memory, Scarlett returned to her present situation.
She didn’t have access to the internet or her notes on the Tulsa case. Maybe she ought to follow Xander’s lead and take a short snooze.
Right after she downed some whiskey and a few aspirin for her pounding headache. She rubbed at her temples, casting a dark look at her snoozing travel companion. How was it even possible that Xander slept like the dead as if nothing were troubling him?
She’d need a horse tranquilizer to achieve that level of relaxation.
Signaling the flight attendant, she ordered her whiskey, tossed a few aspirin to the back of her throat and settled in for a quick catnap.
When she opened her eyes again, Xander was already bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, preparing for the landing. Damn, had she really slept hours in a blink? Scarlett wiped at her eyes and tried to get her bearings.
“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” Xander teased. “I thought you were going to sleep through the landing.”
“It must be the head injury,” she groused, sending him a dark look. “How close are we to landing?”
“About ten minutes.”
Scarlett checked her watch to confirm. “A few minutes off schedule but not bad.”
“We hit some turbulence and wind resistance.”
She nodded, secretly glad she’d slept through that. As many times as she’s flown and jumped from an airplane on missions, she wasn’t a fan of flying and always white-knuckled the bumpy spots.
Whenever Scarlett felt out of her element, she clung to training. “When we land, we’ll rent a car and get a hotel off the main path. Somewhere without a lot of traffic.”
Xander leveled his gaze her way. “Look, I appreciate you willing to come and see this thing through with me but you’re off the clock.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, you’re not my TL right now. This is my detail and I call the shots. If you can’t do that, you might as well take the next flight back to McClean.”
“So you’re saying you’re in charge,” Scarlett summed up, amused and a little wary. “You’re the boss.”
“Exactly.”
Scarlett wasn’t on company time, so technically Xander was right. Although on the flip side, she was doing him a favor by not clapping him in iron bracelets, so a little respect wasn’t out of order.
She supposed it was better to work side by side than against one another, especially if they had the same goal, so she conceded with a nod. However, she didn’t hesitate to add, “If it turns out you’re guilty, I’m going to take you down.”
“I would expect nothing less, but I’m not guilty so I’m not worried.”
“I guess that’s what we’ll find out.”
Xander shrugged. “Yep.”
As the plane began its descent, Scarlett wondered if she was putting her faith in a really good conman or a man who had demons but was ultimately innocent.
The clock was ticking.
Please be innocent. I don’t want to have to arrest or kill you.
He hadn’t planned on a travel buddy, but he was happy to have Scarlett with him while he figured this cluster out. Scarlett was a worthy adversary. The last thing he needed was her chasing after him while he tried to save his own ass.
“So how long do I have before
