Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
He flashed his badge, his deep voice carrying the kind of authority that made any man in an official capacity question his own.
“We’re law enforcement,” he said, turning to the rest of them. “You guys keep your damn mouths shut and show your badges.”
Everyone complied.
Day pulled his out with an annoyed huff. Free, Steele, and Tech did it while still laughing. Ruxs showed his with a shit-eating grin and a wink directed at him.
Green dug his badge out, glaring at his partner as if he said one more word, he’d dump his ass like yesterday’s garbage.
A TSA captain was summoned over. He stared hard at each badge, Green’s bad attitude, God’s bulk, then the group of them that were now clogging up the checkpoint, and decided they weren’t worth the headache, waving them through.
“See?” Ruxs muttered at Green as they grabbed their things. “A little comic relief got your mind off the flying, right?”
Comic relief!
Green cut him a glare that promised retribution.
God was last to step into the body scanner. The machine beeped.
Green was still bristling, especially when he saw the shift in the female TSA worker who’d given him such a hard time.
Her face had softened as she gazed at God. It was as if somebody had flipped on her erotic switch.
The agent batted her eyes and pointed at the badge still in God’s hand and the beanie on his head. “Um, those need to go in the bin.”
God tossed his badge in, slid off his hat with his usual maddening swagger, then ran one hand through his long thick hair.
The woman stared, biting her bottom lip as though she was trying not to voice her nasty thoughts.
Seriously? Green rolled his eyes.
God was the kind of ridiculous-hot that was infuriating.
At six-four, all muscle, intense green eyes framed by long lashes, and Fabio hair flowing down his back, made him look like some ancient war god disguised in Timberland boots and dark denim, traveling by way of Atlanta International instead of his chariot.
The agent wasn’t the only one gawking. The soccer mom behind him gave her pixie cut a self-conscious pat while she checked him out.
“Here we go,” Ruxs said under his breath to Day.
“Shut up,” Day muttered.
God went through the scanner again with no issue.
When he came out, the woman stepped a little closer, tilting her face up at him. “Don’t forget your, um… your—”
“My wallet, boots, belt, phone, and badge?” God said smoothly. He winked and pushed one side of his thick tresses behind his ear as he collected his things. “I remember, honey.”
The woman flushed so hard Green thought steam might come off her. “Have a good flight.”
“You’re shameless,” Day gritted after God took his hand.
God scoffed. “What did I do?”
Green didn’t care. His brain had already moved on.
By the time they got to the gate, boarding had started. People were filing down the jet bridge, smiling and laughing, oblivious, as if they’d never seen one of the Final Destination movies.
A flight agent at the counter was calling the group numbers in an irritatingly cheerful voice, while the other scanned the boarding passes.
Green slowed.
Then stopped.
He went to the window and stared at the plane.
It was enormous, its white body stretched long and wide, the wings jutting out like blades. It looked too big to leave the ground and too heavy not to fall out of the sky.
Every time he’d seen one flying overhead, he had the same thought—that should not be up there, and I’ll be damned if I ever get on one.
It was too much metal. Too many parts. Too many opportunities for something to snap, fail, combust, depressurize, or explode. And the countless windows down the side were too small for him to climb out of in case of an emergency.
“I’m not getting on that casket with refreshments. That’s how they lure you in…with those fuckin’ honey roasted peanuts.”
“Hey.” Ruxs came up behind him. “Let’s go.”
Green shook his head.
A thin sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead. He could feel it easing under his collar and down the back of his neck. His hands were damp, clenched around the handle of his carry-on.
His heartbeat was too fast, too hard, thumping in ugly, shallow bursts as if it were trying to warn him.
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” he said.
Ruxs frowned. “What kind of feelin’?”
Like if he got on that thing, the door would seal and there’d be nowhere to go, nowhere to run or hide if there was danger. He couldn’t handle not being in control of his life. Green shook his head again, faster. He started pacing because standing still felt worse.
“I’m not going.”
“The hell you’re not,” God said from the gate door.
Green didn’t turn around. He didn’t want to see God’s face or the command in it.
“I need both of you there,” God said. “Now untuck your fuckin’ balls and get on the plane.”