Carnal Urges

41

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have, but I was so worried about you, and he said he wouldn’t let you go unless we made a deal, so I had to, I had to!”

I hold up a hand to stop the torrent. Stavros falls silent, panting and white-knuckling the arms of his chair.

A wire. A deal. Those two details stick out in my head like neon flashing lights. They sound official. Like terms a prosecutor would use. Or the police.

Then something else occurs to me. With trepidation, I look at the front of Stavros’s white button-down dress shirt.

He shakes his head.

Relieved I’m not being recorded, I sit back in the chair and blow out a hard breath. I debate telling Stavros that Declan was going to let me go without his help, but decide against it. The less said about him, the better.

Besides, Stavros is already distracted again by my feet.

I slip off my shoe, stand, and hand it to him. Then I lock myself in the bathroom so I don’t have to listen to the sniffs and moans as Stavros jerks himself to release with his nose buried in my footwear.

I take my time using the toilet, washing my hands, and splashing water on my face. When I exit the bathroom ten minutes later, Stavros is flattened against one of the windows, staring wide-eyed and white-faced at something on the tarmac below.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s him,” he says, his voice strangled. “The Irishman!”

My heart jumps into my throat. I run to the nearest window and look out. Sure enough, there stands Declan on the tarmac near the front of the plane.

He’s got a rocket launcher slung over one shoulder.

Stavros screams, “He’s going to kill us!”

“No, he’s not. He just likes to make a grand entrance. Go tell the pilot to cut the engines.”

As a hyperventilating Stavros scrambles down the aisle toward the cockpit, the cell phone Declan gave me buzzes. I turn away from the window and pull it from the back pocket of my jeans. Though I might be having a heart attack, I make myself sound bored when I answer.

“Gino’s Pizza, may I take your order?”

Over the line comes the growl of an infuriated grizzly bear. “Aye, I’ll give you a bloody order. Get your arse off that plane before I blow your little boy toy to smithereens.”

“Nobody says smithereens anymore, gangster. In case you haven’t heard, it’s the twenty-first century.”

“You have five seconds. Four. Three.”

“I’m sorry, which personality am I speaking to now? Because it’s definitely not the one who told me goodbye half an hour ago.”

“Half an hour ago, I didn’t know you weren’t pregnant.”

I pause for a moment. “You called the doctor?”

“I called the doctor. I knew something was up when you said I was blind. And you don’t have nearly as good a poker face as you think.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You were upset that I was letting you go.”

“You’re high.”

“I must be if I’m coming after you again. Now get off that f*****g plane before I lose my temper and do something I’ll regret.”

I stand there with my hands shaking, my knees quaking, and my heart beating outside my chest. I don’t know exactly if it’s anger, adrenaline, or a f****d-up kind of elation I’m feeling, but in any case, I’m definitely not in the mood to be bossed around.

So I say coldly and deliberately into the phone, “No.”

I hang up. Then I go to the window and flip him the bird.

I see the fury in his eyes all the way from where he’s standing. He’s got a red glow around his head.

I’m sure it matches mine.

I withdraw and start to pace angrily up and down the aisle, until Stavros emerges in a panic from the cockpit with a cell phone against his ear, blabbering frantically.

“No—she won’t—I can’t—she won’t listen to me! I don’t know how to open the door!”

Of course Declan would have Stavros’s cell phone number. Of course he would.

I say loudly, “He’s not going to shoot that thing. Hang up, and let’s get going.”

“I’m trying to save your life!”

Not this again.

I stride down the aisle to Stavros, snatch the phone from his hand, and put it to my ear. I snap, “Your deal with Stavi is off. He won’t be spying on anyone for you. And you’ll be keeping your word not to hurt him.”

Declan’s laugh is dark and perversely pleased. “I should’ve known you’d get him talking.”

“Yes, you should have. You continue to underestimate me.”

“A mistake I won’t repeat. Get off the plane. Now. Or my promise not to hurt your poor lapdog ‘Stavi’ expires.”

This time, he’s the one who hangs up.

I stand shaking in hot fury, debating with myself, and conclude there’s no way out of this. If I don’t do as he asks, I have no doubt he’ll hurt Stavros. Now that he knows Stavros isn’t the father of my nonexistent unborn baby, there’s no reason to keep him alive.

The son of a b***h has me checkmated.

I give Stavros back his phone and tell him to instruct the pilot to open the cabin door and lower the airstairs.

He’s horrified by the suggestion. “No! I can’t do that!”

“You can, and you will. I’m not asking.”

He gestures wildly toward the windows. “He’s an animal!”

“Yes, but a reasonable one. Do I look hurt to you?”

After a moment, he says reluctantly, “No.”

“That’s because I know how to handle him.”