It fucking hurt.
After snatching my phone out of my pocket, I typed out a text letting her know I would be there when she was ready to talk. If she wanted to leave, I couldn’t stop her. But I wasn’t going to let things end like that, either. I owed that much to both of us.
Twenty minutes later, my eyes were aimed at the football game playing on TV, but my mind was elsewhere.
On Nikki.
On my past.
On my life.
On my future.
Lost.
I’d woken up that morning content. Not happy. But I’d had nothing to complain about.
Now, I felt nothing but unease.
My phone rang, and I immediately snatched it up off the table. “Nik?” I answered without looking at the caller ID.
“Roth? It’s Jackson. I need you at the airport in twenty minutes.”
“Sorry, sir. I’m off today.”
“Not anymore. I’ve got a private jet, a rock star on a timeline, and no pilot.”
Sitting up, I asked, “What happened to Craig? I thought that was his flight?”
He sighed. “It was. Chest pains. Baez turned it around. Listen, he’s fine. But I need a captain in that cockpit in thirty minutes or Air Traffic Control can’t fit us back in for hours. Now, get dressed and get your ass up here, or you’re fired. I absolutely cannot afford to lose this guy. He owns his own plane and uses us exclusively. It’s the closest thing to free money that exists. Oh, and this guy is terrified of flying, I need you smooth up there.”
I rolled my eyes. It could have been raining bullets from the sky and I still could have landed that thing on a motherfucking postage stamp. I didn’t need a reminder on how to fly.
“Right. Smooth.”
“I’m serious, Roth. Jump your cocky ass off your pedestal and do me a solid here.”
Weighing my decision, I glanced back at the door as if Nikki might barge through it at any minute. She wouldn’t. She’d have to come back and get her stuff eventually, but it wasn’t going to be today. No point in waiting. Flying was the only thing that could make me feel better.
Pushing off the couch, I started toward my bedroom. “I’ll be there.”
Hurry up and wait.
I’d made it to the airport in plenty of time, but due to the heavy rains in the area, all flights had been delayed. Air traffic was backed up for at least an hour.
I wished I’d stopped to grab some food on my way. I was starving, but the tiny, private airport wasn’t exactly brimming with restaurants.
After dropping a few coins in the vending machine, I made my selection then once again checked my cell phone.
Nikki hadn’t replied to my text. And the more time that passed, the more I worried she wasn’t going to.
Not if she’s smart.
“Shit,” I mumbled to myself as my dinner became stuck behind the glass.
Suddenly, a man’s yell snapped my attention from the snack machine. “No!”
A tall guy with messy, blond hair was staring at me from the other end of the hall. His hands were fisted at his sides, but his eyes were wide with absolute terror.
“No,” he repeated on an eerie whisper.
I quirked an eyebrow. “Uhhh,” I drawled before looking over my shoulder to see who he was talking to.
When my search came up empty, I glanced back in his direction and found that a behemoth had sidled up beside him. At six-two and two hundred pounds, I was a big guy. But I could only assume that this guy went by the name of Brutus, Butch, or Damien.
“Henry,” the giant warned.
The obviously frazzled man strode forward, closing in on me. He was an inch shorter than I was, but while my frame held bulk, his was lean with a toned, muscular build. How a simple pair of jeans, a black V-neck T-shirt, and a pair of boots screamed money, I’d never understand. But he might as well have left dollar bills instead of footprints on the tile as he stormed toward me.
Squaring my shoulders, I stood my ground. “You need something?”
“Please, God, tell me you’re not my new pilot.”
Ah, yes. The spoiled rock star.
It didn’t take but a second for me to recognize him. Hell, most people could have identified Henry Alexander. He was about as famous as they came and had been on the cover of every magazine over the last few years. The moment he released a new single, radio stations across the country joined forces to cram it down the throats of Americans everywhere. His music was good—the first five hundred thousand times. After that….
There was no denying he was a superstar. Women adored him, despite the fact that he was openly gay.
My heart sank at the thought.
Nikki loved this guy. She would have died if she knew he was my passenger today. Something I’d probably never get the chance to tell her.
“No way you’re a pilot,” he said when I failed to answer.
I’d already been in a shit mood, but thoughts of Nikki only made it worse.