“Well now, isn’t he just special,” she snorted in amusement. “Remind me to bow and be all ladylike if I have to meet him.”

His head turned toward her as he gave a surprised spurt of laughter.

“You’re wicked,” he accused her. “But as much as I’d love to see that, be good. I need my job.”

“No you don’t, he just gets you shot at, remember?” she retorted in amusement. “If he fires you I’ll pimp you out, hon. You should make enough to at least pay your rent.”

“You don’t charge me rent,” he reminded her suspiciously.

“Yeah,” Zoey drawled. “I didn’t forget that either.”

She laughed when he made the next turn without warning her. She was far enough behind that following him wasn’t a problem, though.

The narrow blacktop lane led deep into the rolling hills bordering Louisville. They were in no way mountains, just gentle upraised slopes sheltering shallow valleys. The private airfield was located in such a valley. Several large hangars sat just back from the paved landing strip, appearing deserted and completely unassuming.

“He’s in the first hangar.” Eli pointed the large metal building out. “He has his own private jet and makes full use of it. Family money and all that shit.”

“As I said, ain’t he just special,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. “Is this meeting going to take long?”

The boss’s boss actually sounded like he’d be fun as hell to torment for a minute. Did he have a sense of humor?

Well, Eli was still alive, so he had to have a sense of humor, she thought in amusement. Even she considered shooting him once a week. He could be just that infuriating.

“It shouldn’t take long. I just have to pass along some stuff Graham sent, find excuses not to accompany him on whatever harebrained op he’s decided he needs me for, and then we’ll be on our way.”

She didn’t believe him. It was that edge of resignation in his voice. The sound of a man who knows better than the explanation he was trying to force-feed her.

“Twenty minutes max,” he promised.

“Hmm. I’ll time you.” Following him to the entrance of the hangar, Zoey drew the cycle to a stop beside Eli’s and cut the engine.

Releasing her helmet, she removed it and hung it on the sissy bar behind her before shrugging the light leather jacket from her shoulders and laying it over the back of the seat.

“I promise, I won’t be long.” Helmet removed, his own jacket slung over the back of his bike, Eli watched her with a hint of discomfort now.

He so was not looking forward to this. It was almost amusing the way the big boss could intimidate him far better than her brother, Dawg, could.

“Go,” she laughed, waving her fingers toward the jet parked in the hangar. “I’ll wait, no matter how long. You can buy me a greasy cheeseburger later for my trouble.”

He shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips, before striding to the steps leading into the private jet. “Those cheeseburgers will kill you, Zoe-Zoe.”

“Not before I kill you for calling me all those damned sissy names,” she warned him, though her gaze was on the jet.

Nice jet too, if she wasn’t mistaken.

Dismounting the bike, she stood staring around the valley, stretching her legs for a minute before sitting crossways on the comfortable seat and straightening the small chains and charms that dangled from the zipper tabs of her boots.

She hated waiting. She wasn’t the patient type unless she was hunting. She’d enjoyed that. Unfortunately Natches had ended the hunting lessons rather abruptly no more than a few months after they’d begun.

When he’d informed her they weren’t going hunting anymore, she arched her brow, anger pulsing through her. “Afraid I’ll get good at it?” she’d charged him.

Natches shook his head. “No, little sister,” he sighed. “Afraid you’ll get too good at it.”

Hell, that was years ago. What had made her think about that?

Waiting, probably, she thought with a snort.

As much as she thought of Elijah, when the twenty minutes passed, she could feel herself becoming frustrated. She could feel herself beginning to think of things better left alone. That was why she hated waiting. She’d only gotten worse in the past year.

“It was a nightmare, Zoey.”

“Always remember, you killed me, Zoey . . .”

“I’m Natches’s heir . . . Natches will kill you . . .”

Natches’s heir. Harley was a hunter; he talked about it all the time. Hunting and guns and Natches’s new best hunting buddy? Well, that made sense, didn’t it? As a former Marine sniper Natches would want an heir to teach what he knew, and his adopted son, Declan, had a tendency to laugh if someone suggested he go hunting with Natches.

Harley and Natches had been great hunting buddies, though.

“. . . I’m Natches’s heir . . .” the voice of a nightmare whispered through her head.

“. . . don’t forget you killed me, Zoey . . .” Harley demanded in those bloody images, demanding she remember.

Jumping from the seat of the motorcycle, she paced several feet from it, searching the area frantically for something to concentrate on, something besides a nightmare she just wanted to forget.

“Damn, Eli, is it going to take you all friggin’ evening?” she snapped into the silence of the valley. “Let’s hurry already.”

“You could have come in with him.”

Zoey swung around at the sound of the brooding tone, rife with amused mockery.

Her brows arched and she allowed a small smile to threaten the corners of her lips. Now, didn’t he just look rather fun?

“Zoey Mackay?” A single dark brow arched, interest gleaming in his dark, chocolate-brown eyes.

He stood almost lazily next to the front wheel of her cycle, hands tucked into his black slacks, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled several cuff widths up his tanned, light-haired forearms, his longish, dark brown hair framing aristocratic, damned imposing features.

“And you are?” she asked warily, though she had a good idea who he was. The boss’s boss. It was damned funny how even Eli refused to use his name. Like some kind of talisman that could hold him at bay.

He did look kind of dangerous, though, in a very aristocratic sort of way. In a very arrogant lord-of-all-he-surveyed way. And she had to admit, it was a damned arousing look.

She liked it.

A little too much perhaps.

Her eyes narrowed then. It had been years. Five years, to be precise. He was harder, his face sharper, his expression colder. But it was him.

She’d danced with him one sultry summer night, certain he’d kiss her once the dance was over. Instead, he stepped back, ran his finger from her temple to her jaw in a gentle curve, before turning and just walking away.

But did he know who she was? He didn’t appear to recognize her, and it had been five years after all. Perhaps she hadn’t made the same impression on him.

His lips quirked. “Who did Eli tell you he was meeting?”

Propping one hand on a leather-clad hip, she slid her gaze to the plane, then back to his amused features.

“His boss’s boss.” She wrinkled her nose with a hint of disdain. “Be careful of him, he tends to get his agents shot at, you know.”

Casually, ensuring that the move appeared natural, Zoey lifted her jacket from the seat of the cycle and pulled it on once again. “Hopefully he doesn’t get Eli shot at before we leave. I’m certain I have things to do tonight.”

“Really?” The interest deepened in his eyes now. “Perhaps you can give him a few more minutes while you explain how you know so much about his boss?”

Lifting one arm, she checked her nails for a moment before lowering it once again and directing her attention back to him.

“I’m a Mackay, we tend to know these things. Instinct perhaps.” She shrugged as though no more interested in the conversation than she was in the grass growing in the fields surrounding the airfield. “Think the boss’s boss will be done with him soon?”