She gave me a distracted look. “Huh? Oh, sure. Stan, can you finish loading the car? Don’t forget your things.” Remy batted her eyelashes at him.
I dragged her over to the far side of the car. “Who the heck is that?”
Remy looked surprised at my vehement reaction. “It’s Stan.”
I resisted the urge to bang my head against the windshield. Repeatedly. “And just who is Stan, and why’s he coming with us?”
She patted me on the arm. “He’s for the Itch, hon. I’m due in about eight hours, so I figured I’d need someone along for the Mile High Club and Stan has a passport. Besides, we don’t know how long we’ll be gone.” She looked at Stan and a tiny sigh escaped her. “Just look at those muscles. Hard to believe I found him in a grocery store.”
“Not so hard,” I snapped. “He looks like he has the IQ of a cabbage.”
“Jealous?” Remy grinned at me. “I notice you don’t seem to have anyone along for the ride. Not exactly forward thinking, given our situation.”
“I’ve got it covered,” I snapped, embarrassed and irritated.
“Are you sure? Because-”
I held up a hand. “Trust me, I’ve got it covered.” She didn’t need to know that I’d packed a vibrator. Zane wasn’t an option; I wasn’t touching that man even if he was the last jerk on earth. “Does he have a ticket? Can we just get going already?”
Remy blinked in surprise. “Wow, something eating you?”
“Nothing I want to talk about, thank you.” I got into the car and turned on the engine, waiting for everyone else to get ready.
Egypt. Ready or not, here we come.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I was in Hell.
Remy swatted me with her boarding pass as she stood in line, waiting to hand it to the gate attendant. “Chill out, Jackie. What is your problem?”
I wasn’t about to tell her; the humiliation would be too deep. I stood my ground, glaring at the security officer and clutching my tote bag under my arm. “You are not nosing through my carry-on. There’s nothing bad in there-no bombs, no matches, no razors, all right?”
The guard wasn’t budging, either. “Airline policy, ma’am. We randomly search every eighth person.”
“Check number nine this time.” I gestured at Zane, who stood behind me, hands tucked into the pockets of his leather trench coat. “Ten bucks says that if you search him, you’ll find plenty.”
The security guard glowered at me, his face turning red behind his thick white mustache. “Miss, you’ll have to get out of line right now, and I insist on searching you-not your friend. So hand me the bag.” He reached for my carry-on again, scowling when I moved it out of reach. “Now.”
Remy groaned. “They’re not going to let us board if you keep pulling this crap, Jackie, and I’m more than ready to hit the drinks in first class.” Her blue eyes stared at me impatiently, and if I looked down I’d probably see her Manolo Blahnik sandal tapping impatiently. The Itch was a lot like PMS in the beginning stages; the onflux of hormones brought on some serious mood-swing action.
“I think you should let them check your bag,” Stan chirped helpfully.
“Shut up, Boy Wonder. Nobody asked you.” I pointed at the ancient security guard. “I’m thinking Gramps here picked me out of the line because he wants to feel up my boobs on the pretense of hidden weaponry.”
“Jackie.” Zane placed his hand on my shoulder and his eyes met mine. “Let the man check your bag so we can get on the plane.”
And just like that, I handed my bag to the security guard and allowed him to open it in front of the entire line. Numb with dread, I watched as he pulled my items out. Blow dryer. Curling iron. My Ziploc-bagged hairspray. Not that I was going to be spending a lot of time fixing my hair in Egypt; I’d hoped all the junk would mask the true item I was trying to smuggle in.
No sooner did I think it than the security guard pulled out a long, flesh-shaped object. “What’s this?”
I heard Stan snort with laughter. Remy howled with delight.
“It’s nothing,” I said, wishing the ground would swallow me up. “Just put it back, all right?”
But no. The security guard was apparently curious about it and switched it on. A loud buzzing sound filled the air, and the few people in line who weren’t already interested were suddenly glued to the sight of my vibrator going off in the man’s hand.
“Oh,” he said, straightening his glasses in surprise. “I … oh.” Words failed him.
I covered my eyes, wondering if my day could get any worse.
Zane strolled over and looped his arm over my shoulder, his long coat blocking me, the guard, and the bag from the rest of the crowd. Gratitude rushed through me.
“You do realize,” he drawled softly in my ear, “that a vibrator’s not going to help the Itch? You need a willing human partner. Or once-human. Lucky for you I’m along for the ride.” He smiled down at me, a lazy look of amusement on his face.
My gratitude dried up in an instant. Yep, my day had just gotten even worse than before.
Before I could burst into tears, the security guard crammed my things back into the bag and shoved it into my hands. “You’re free to go, ma’am.” He touched his hat and moved down the line as fast as he could.
I let Zane continue to drape his arm over my shoulders like we were a couple until we boarded the plane. “So,” I murmured under the warmth of his large arm. He smelled like aftershave and cigars, a heavenly combination. “Why do I always end up doing whatever you tell me to, if you’re not my vampire master?” I was still skeptical about that.
“I’m just enticingly persuasive and you’re a closet submissive?” He flashed a white smile at me and I automatically moved closer to him. His gaze dropped and I noticed that being under his arm gave him a perfect view down the front of my shirt.
“Ugh. How did you become such a creep?” I skittered away.
He laughed. “Millennia of practice, my dear.”
The flight itself was nice and relaxing. As soon as we sat down I put on headphones and ignored Zane, who sat next to me. First class was a definite improvement. Here you had room to stretch out and get comfortable, and I did just that, flipping open Carrie’s thesis and starting to read.
Seven hours and one layover later, it was 5:00 a.m., and we were waiting for the plane to take off for the final leg of our trip to Cairo. I’d read every page of Carrie Brown’s thesis from cover to cover, but there was nothing there, except for a brief mention of Nitocris as a “legendary” figure in history. Frustrated and cranky, I shoved the notebook into the seat back pocket and ripped my headphones off. I needed coffee. Lots and lots of coffee, and an idea of what to do next.
Depression crept into my mind, and I thought of Noah, trapped with the vampire queen and her minions. He’d made a noble sacrifice for me. I’m failing you, Noah. I’m so sorry. My fingers twitched, and I resisted the urge to pull the thesis back out and give it one more go.
Zane looked over and gave me a sleepy look. “Hey there. Decided to talk to me again?” The hint of a smile curved his mouth, and I found myself fascinated anew by his lips.
He looked breathtaking in the early-morning light. Maybe I was just tired of bickering with him, or maybe it was the heavy-lidded look he was casting my way. There was no ulterior motive in his gaze, just an almost sweet smile that made me want to curl up in his lap with his arms around me. My irritation at him ebbed away, replaced by the returning warmth of attraction. I knew Zane was bad for me, but I didn’t care.