Jack was an Aquatie with a primary habitat of water, Conlon figured he’d take the male at his word.
The other three guards and Mark sat across the isle from him. With him and Mattie added to the mix, that left only one vacant seat. “Does she usually travel with eight guards?”
Jack shook his head. “Normally there are twelve of us taking turns in the seats while four stand. Let me tell you, a flight to Amsterdam feels like forever. The plane has two bathrooms, one in her suite and the other accessible only by going through her suite. Unless you’re the pilot or co-pilot, going to the restroom is a luxury. We try to hold off until there are at least three of us that need to go, so we bother her as little as possible.”
Mattie shifted her gaze toward Jack. “Does she ever do anything nice ?” Her voice seethed with venom. Luckily Conlon recognized it wasn’t really directed at Stacey, otherwise— Fates, what was he thinking? Had he been about to defend Stacey?
Jack seemed to consider Mattie’s question a moment before he answered. “Well, sort of. She pays us way more than the industry standard. If you do your job with integrity and keep your mouth shut, she pretty much leaves you alone. Course, if she catches you dickin’ off, look out.” He chuckled; it became obvious that though Jack might not particularly like Stacey, the male respected her. Maybe someone like her found more value in being respected rather than liked.
Jack leaned closer to Mattie and extended his arm behind and away from him, using his hand to draw an “S” pattern in the air—a phonetic sound trick Aquaties used to either block or amplify sound using their sonic ability. Conlon had to lean forward to hear what the security chief said. “I’m not sure, but I think Ms. Winkel anonymously helped my paired sibling open a business. I mentioned to Cassie that my sister was saving money to open a crab shack in San Francisco. The next day, my sister called me excited out of her mind. She got a call from a professional business consultant, and twice the amount she needed somehow showed up in her bank account.” He ceased his hand dance and leaned back. Why the bitch-act? Conlon’s curiosity grew.
They sat in silence after that. Jack’s mention of Cassie’s name turned Mattie’s mood from broody to downright surly. Mattie rose with a huff from her seat, stepped to the door, and gave it a sound knock. “Yes?” Stacey’s voice from beyond the door seemed annoyed. Mattie opened the door, forcing the guard opposite him to yank his elbow off the armrest or get it smashed.
“I’m not asking permission to pee,” Mattie announced more bluntly than her normal “shy with strangers” nature usually resulted in.
Stacey laughed … actually laughed. Jack tried to crane his head around to peer into the room. Conlon slammed him back against his seat with his arm. The Aquatie snorted in annoyance. “All right. You have an open pass, but you’re the only one.”
With a nod, Mattie strode through the door, clearing his line of sight to take in the vision of Stacey lying on her side in a bed, facing him. She met his gaze for less than an instant before returning it to the magazine open in front of her, effectively dismissing him. Her low, widow-peaked hairline and wide cheekbones gave her face a heart shape to perfectly frame her mouth. Her plump lower lip and slightly thinner upper lip formed a bow shape that naturally curved up at the ends. Her relaxed expression could be gauged as amused … or smug.
She casually flipped the page. Conlon gaze was drawn to her long, elegant fingers before traveling up her arm to stare at the curve of her heavy breasts. Her narrowness of her waist was further exaggerated by her position, flaring to the round curve of full hips trailing to sinfully long legs. Stacey had the kind of figure popular during the French Revolution, with the soft, mouth-watering curves a male could sink into without fear of
Learning to Kill: Stories