Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97134 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Believing in Riggs was one thing, but trusting the supposedly-updated mechanics of this ancient plane was a whole other thing. I knew I was never going to take this process of take-off and landing for granted again.
A calm voice on the radio instructed Riggs to pull back the lever to deploy the landing gear and he shot me a look that spoke volumes. This was it. The moment of truth.
The plane let out a horrible squeal of grinding parts, ending in a loud thunk that reverberated through the cabin. I clung to Riggs’s arm, my heart pounding too hard for me to even try to play it cool. Had something gone wrong? After everything that happened in Columbia, would this be the end?
But then a voice came over the radio saying, “We have visual confirmation, your landing gear has deployed. Well-done!” and I released the breath I’d been holding in a shuddering sigh.
The moment our wheels hit the runway in Santa Irma was almost anti-climactic. The plane touched down with a bouncing jerk that rattled my teeth, and we thumped down the runway for a second, but then Riggs engaged the brakes with the competence of a guy who’d done scary shit a thousand times before, and suddenly people were rushing out of the terminal to put blocks under the wheels and deplane us. Then all the adrenaline that had flooded my system had nowhere to go.
“Duchess?” Riggs said with a quizzical smile when only the two of us were left on board. “You coming?”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I feel more nervous now than I did an hour ago. Adrenaline crash or something.”
Riggs stepped into my personal space, the way he always did, and rubbed his big hands up and down my biceps comfortingly. “You’re usually good when the crisis is happening, you know that? When we’re hijacking a plane. When we’re in the kitchen and Buck’s bleeding. When you’ve got a kid with malaria or a heart patient that needs tending. You don’t let yourself feel the fear until you’re alone or with me. It’s normal.”
I nodded jerkily, his words soothing something inside me. “I’m having all sorts of interesting revelations about myself on this trip, huh? Turns out I’m only okay in a crisis when I feel like I can control it—when I have the resources I need—otherwise, I get stressed. And yeah, I guess I compartmentalize things too. Don’t let myself feel scared until I’m in a safer place.” I bit my lip as I realized I was equating Riggs with safety and admitting it, but it was true, so I wasn’t going to take it back. “I guess that’s the one good thing that’s come out of the whole kidnapping/hostage/being marked for death thing, huh? The silver lining, I guess.”
Riggs’s grin warmed, and the expression in his dark eyes turned teasing as he wrapped his arms around my waist. “Is that the only silver lining, Dr. Rogers?”
I laughed as I looped my arms around his neck. “Mmmm, maybe not the only one.” I leaned into him, tilting my head back so I could smile up at him.
Riggs brushed his mouth over mine once, then twice, before parting my lips with his own and crushing me against him—a little maneuver that was uniquely Riggs and which I fucking loved. His tongue tangled with mine, exploring me with lazy thoroughness.
God, it was good between us. And I’d swear his kisses got better and more potent all the damn time.
It was funny how quickly a person could get used to a thing. To the singular way Riggs kissed, to the woodsy scent of him that lingered even when he hadn’t had access to cologne in days, to the way I felt buoyant but also secure when he held me.
“Like I was saying before,” I whispered hoarsely when he finally pulled back for air. “When we get home to Tennessee, do you think—?”
“Fuckin’ A, Riggsy!” a voice called excitedly from outside. Heavy boots hit the plane’s stairs, making the metal groan. “The way you landed this bird was an instant classic. I got iPhone footage for the office Christmas par—oh.” A man with a head full of wavy blond hair and a chin sharp enough to cut glass stopped short at the sight of me and immediately cleared his throat. His eyes ping-ponged between me and Riggs. “Hey there, Dr. Rogers. Nice to meet you. I’m Jasper Huxley, the guy you were texting with earlier. Sorry about that.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the stairway. “I figured Riggsy—er, Mr. Riggs—would have secured the client in the airport first thing when he landed.” He widened his eyes significantly. “Champ headed to the terminal first since he assumed that’s where Dr. Rogers would be.”
“Uh. Shit.” Riggs took a giant step back, which was really awkward since my hands were still around his neck. “This isn’t what it looks like.”