Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
I shake my head. Yesterday is over and done with, and the police hustled the dude off in cuffs as soon as the plane landed. I didn’t even get his name, not that he would have told me a real one. Instead, he left me with my holes stretched and achy, not to mention dripping with his fluids. My pussy clenches at the memory because the sex was incredibly hot, and honestly better than I’ve ever had before. I suppose it’s the taboo nature of our interaction that had me orgasming so hard that my eyes crossed and I sigh at the memory. God knows it’s not going to happen again.
But then, the hostess leads me over to a man at the bar, and at first, I’m barely even paying attention. It’s dark at the Viceroy, and I’m still ruminating on the handsome criminal who took me every which way. But when I draw up close, that’s when my jaw falls to the floor as I sputter.
“It’s you!” I accuse. “What the hell?”
He looks just as surprised.
“Um, hi,” he manages in a low growl. “This is a coincidence.”
We literally stare at each other, dumbstruck, for thirty seconds or so. I use that time to take in the hijacker and realize again, that he’s devastatingly handsome. Not a hair is out of place on his head, and there’s not so much as a scratch on him. Instead, he looks very much the part of a wealthy businessman in a dark suit with a white shirt that contrasts against his deeply bronzed skin. Those blue eyes are piercing, and his features strong yet proud at once.
But still, this guy belongs behind bars.
“What the …?” I finally stammer. “Shouldn’t you be in an interrogation room somewhere?”
My date smirks.
“Nice to see you again too,” he drawls with amusement. “That’s one way to kick off our evening.”
I roll my eyes.
“The last I saw you, you were holding an entire plane filled with passengers at gunpoint! You’re supposed to be in jail right now, right? Not lounging around the Viceroy!” I wave my hands around frantically and my voice is beginning to rise in volume. But the man merely chuckles.
“No, it’s not quite like that,” he says in a deep voice.
I stare at him some more.
“Oh really? So I dreamed it all up?”
He shakes his dark head, running a hand through his hair. Goddamn, this man is rakishly handsome, but I’m not going to let it affect me because he’s a criminal with a capital “C.” There’s no way I’m going out with this man tonight, much less for the entire week.
But then he shrugs those broad shoulders.
“No, you didn’t dream anything up. The hijacking happened, but it wasn’t a real incident. It was staged, and actually, I work for the as an Air Marshal for the TSA.”
I stare at him.
“Staged? Are you freaking kidding me?”
He holds up both hands, palms out.
“I apologize because I know that we scared the passengers on board, not to mention the crew. But yeah, the TSA has revamped a lot of its procedures in the last few years due to a rise in in-air incidents, and now mock-hijackings are part of what we do to prepare crew for potential violence.”
I stare at him.
“No way.”
The handsome man merely shrugs.
“It’s true. You must have read about how people are freaking out a lot on planes now.”
I sputter.
“Of course I have! But I thought it was unruly passengers beating up on flight attendants and stuff! It wasn’t straight-up hijackings.”
My handsome date merely shrugs and smirks again.
“Yes, but you’d be surprised,” he drawls. “There have been a lot of threats in recent years, and ever since the War on Terror began twenty years ago, things have changed when it comes to in-flight security. The mock hijack was a test of the crew’s training to ensure that they’re properly prepared to handle all possible crisis situations.”
At his words, I’m too overwhelmed to say anything. So yesterday was totally fake? They put the passengers through hell on earth for what? To test the crew in an emergency situation? I’m astonished and honestly, appalled. The Transportation Security Administration is going to hear from me about this one, that’s for sure.
But still, I stare at the man.
“So you work for the TSA as what? A fake hijacker?”
He shrugs.
“No, like I said, as an air marshal.”
I stare again. This guy is full of surprises.
“So you’re an air marshal,” I repeat slowly.
He nods that dark head.
“Yep. The TSA went on a huge hiring spree a while ago because of the rise in on-air incidents. They put out some job bulletins, and I was hired as an air marshal on a part-time basis.”
Okay, I’m calling bull on this.
“No way does the TSA hire part-time air marshals. It has to be a full-time job.”