Page 113 of What Remains

“And our friendship matters to me more than anything, of course.” His hands move to my waist. “But to be honest, it’s that I’m worried I’ll⁠—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” a deep voice cuts in, and I could scream.

Really?

He clears his throat and lets me go. There’s no way he’s hiding his hard-on in those gray sweats.

Thinking fast, I sidestep him and use my body to shield his erection from view so we can face our head of security.

Malachi’s mouth twitches, and a subtle I know what you were up to smile comes and goes fast. “Your father and Carter are looking for you. They’re on their way down here. I figured it’d be best if I was the one to intrude.”

I nod, heat still humming under my skin. I’m too wrapped up in the aftershock of Easton’s touch to feel embarrassed. I’m also anxious for him to finish that thought of his, but it looks like it’ll have to wait.

“Thank you,” Easton says quietly. Despite what he said about my dad, I’m sure he’s relieved it wasn’t him who caught us up against a wall.

Malachi turns and leaves, and the second his back is to us, the space between Easton and me rushes back in, and I spin around to face him.

“Your lips are swollen. Face is red around your mouth, too.” He drags his thumb along my lower lip, brow creasing.

I glance pointedly at his sweats. “At least you’re not hard anymore. That’s a plus.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, brief and rueful. “Tactical thinking.” His gaze snaps past me, and his hand falls away.

Dad.

Of course.

I turn just in time to see him and Carter approaching, their expressions grave. The bubble Easton and I were standing in shatters.

“What’s wrong?” I ask before Dad can clock my lips, or how close Easton is standing.

We regroup at the table where my new rig waits, its screen dark and innocent looking.

“There’s been a security breach with air traffic control in England.” Carter delivers the bad news, and my stomach drops, like I missed the step on a staircase. “Two planes collided off the coast and went down.”

The room tilts. My legs give way, but Easton’s arm hooks behind me, keeping me upright.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” Easton beats me to asking.

No answer, so I pull away from Easton and head to my rig. My fingers move fast as dread sharpens my focus. After I enter the password and my screen wakes up, that’s when I see it—what I missed while Easton and I were kissing.

I grip the edge of the table. “The signal is pinging.” I straighten, forcing air into my lungs. “They didn’t clone my rig like we thought they’d do. They flipped the real one on ten minutes ago.”

“Ten minutes ago? And you didn’t notice?” Dad’s gaze flies between Easton and me.

I look to Easton, then back at Dad, and instead of answering him, share, “My rig . . . it’s in London.”

CHAPTER 38

Gwen

The news station in Easton’s suite keeps looping the same ten seconds—the planes colliding over the Atlantic. Metal screaming. Fire blooming. My body still reacts like it’s the first time I’ve seen it. Even my ears ring, like I’m standing too close to the blast.

“I can’t stomach this.” I turn away, gagging, and Mya slips her arm behind my back, pressing a blue vomit bag into my hand. “No, no,” I manage, “I’m not going to puke.” I don’t think so, anyway.

The floor-to-ceiling windows fog at the edges, like our collective breaths are ghosting the glass, and the air itself is trying to hold us in.

“Maybe shut that off?” Mya asks Oliver, but Jesse beats him to it, killing the TV.