Page 28 of Burn Bag (Owens Protective Services #31)

DAPHNE

I scrolled through the article, finding it absolutely fascinating. Ashera cats were not exactly a thoroughly vetted breed. In fact, there was no real documentation on them that proved they were worth over a hundred thousand dollars a piece.

“It says that they’re a cross-breed between an African Serval, an Asian Leopard, and a domestic cat.”

“And?” Bradley asked, looking rather annoyed.

“Well, that’s just what they say. Usually, with rare breeds, there’s a ton of documentation and testing. In fact, the company that started this breed closed over ten years ago. How is anyone supposed to really know what these animals are?”

“That’s not for us to worry about,” he grumbled, shifting in his seat. “I need the aisle.”

“What?”

“The aisle. I always sit in the aisle,” he grumbled.

“You’ve been sitting up front the entire flight.”

“And now I’m here. I need to be able to escape.”

I snorted in amusement. “Right, so you can get out before your wife. ”

He slowly turned and scowled at me, sending chills down my spine with just that one look.

Damn, he was sexy. Those big brown eyes darkened to a level that made my pussy clench with need, and the way his hair flopped down over his forehead nearly had me reaching up to run my fingers through it.

But I knew he would not appreciate that.

Not when he was trying to prove a point with this hot, sexy, scowling look.

It would probably help if I looked properly chastised instead of like I was about to jump his bones, but I couldn’t force my face to do what my brain said it needed to.

“I sit on the outside so I can jump into action if there’s a problem.

My job is to protect you and ensure your safety.

You’re my wife, and I take that responsibility very seriously.

I would never let anything happen to you, and that includes not being prepared if something were to go wrong on the plane.

And in order to do my job, I need to be on the outside,” he pointed to the other side of me.

“Trust me, there is nothing I want more than your comfort, but this is one area I will not yield.”

Ovaries. Explode. I withered and died right there, melting into a puddle of warm-fuzzy glue.

No, none of that made sense, but my brain was literally fritzing, unsure of how to function after a man—my husband—just made a statement that was so damn sexy and pornographic that I didn’t know what else to do but mutter something incoherent as I continued to stare at him.

“Are you going to move?” he growled.

I nodded, still staring at him and probably drooling. But I managed to unclip my buckle and stand on shaky knees. He bodily moved me and sat down, taking my belt and latching it since I seemed to lack the ability to do so on my own.

“Now, what were you saying?”

He gave me his full attention, but all I could do was stare at those full lips that I longed to have pressed against mine. God, I really needed to get laid. And he was my husband, so it was bound to happen eventually. If the cats ever stopped attacking him .

“Right,” I said, finally tearing my gaze from his handsome face. “Cats. I was discussing cats.”

“You’re always discussing cats.”

“Not always,” I muttered. “I am capable of carrying on a conversation about other things.”

“Then do enlighten me,” he grinned, egging me on.

“What? Like you just want me to pull a subject out of my hat and start ranting about it?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

Why not? Because I was intimidated as hell by this man. Yes, I could banter with the best of them and carry on a conversation, but I was beginning to see that my new husband was a real catch, and that was?—

“Did you go to college?”

College? What was college? Ah, yes. It was school. I went to school. I was an intelligent, interesting person. You just couldn’t tell right now.

I nodded. “University of Missouri.”

“What did you study?”

“Archeology.”

I snorted at the shocked look on his face.

“Wait, I thought you said you worked with animals.”

Oh, that was right. I had said that. “Right, I do.”

“How does an archaeologist have anything to do with animals?”

And this was the part where I came clean and told him everything. Except, I never got the chance because Red walked up at that very moment.

“We’re beginning our descent.”

Bradley nodded and unbuckled. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

Where else would I go? I watched curiously as he strode to the front of the plane and sat down with Red and Eli, looking over something on the table.

I was curious what they were doing, but then I heard the cats meowing and unbuckled to calm them down.

The poor things had been locked up the whole flight .

“Hey, sweetie,” I said to the one in the front. His giant ears were so dang adorable, and those big eyes made me want to squeeze him with hugs. “If I had a bunch of money, I’d buy you in an instant.”

The cat brushed up against the cage, trying to reach my fingers.

A few of the others were still sleeping, and one was playing with a toy in his cage.

Overall, they were calm and completely unaffected by the trip.

I wasn’t entirely sure what I had been needed for, but I was happy I got to see these cuties.

“You really don’t listen very well,” Bradley said from behind me.

“I was just checking on them,” I said, still letting the cat in front of me rub against me through the cage. “They’re so sweet.”

Bradley wrapped his hand around my bicep and tugged me to my feet, turning me to face him. “Under no circumstances are we bringing more cats home.”

I smiled sweetly at him, finding it hilarious that he actually thought I was some kind of crazy cat lady. “I have no intention of bringing any of them home.”

“Good, because I need you to be clear on this. Seven cats is enough.”

“I know.”

“And we don’t have a hundred grand to blow on a cat.”

“I’m well aware. Not that a cat wouldn’t be worth a hundred grand…” I cocked my head at him curiously. “You wouldn’t spend that kind of money to save a life?”

“A human life? Absolutely. That?” he asked, pointing at the cage. “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

I glanced back at the adorable face and frowned. “What makes his life worth so much less?”

“He’s a cat,” Bradley said slowly.

“People pay that kind of money to have a baby.”

“A baby is a living, breathing thing,” he argued as Eli approached.

“Talking about kids already?” Eli grinned.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Last I checked, these cats are alive and breathing. ”

“You know what I mean. A baby is a human.”

“Ah, the debate over life,” Eli nodded. “Didn’t expect you to get into political shit so quickly, but?—”

“And one of God’s creatures,” I interrupted.

“Precisely.”

I grinned at the trap I’d caught him in. “Precisely,” I repeated.

“What?” Eli looked between the two of us, thoroughly confused by the conversation.

Cocking my head at Eli, I decided to go in for the kill. “Would you spend a hundred grand to save a cat for your wife?”

He chuckled, shaking his finger at me. “I see where you’re going with this. I’m not falling for that trap.”

“What trap? It’s a simple question.”

“It’s a fucking dangerous question—one with no clear way out. There’s a difference between giving an honest answer and wanting to keep my wife on my good side.”

“Men do that?” I gasped. “Does your wife know this?”

“Of course she does. Every married woman knows that they hold the cards in every situation. There is literally no question a man can answer honestly without fearing for his life, his marriage, or his sanity.”

“That is not true! Women would prefer honesty every time!”

“Yeah? Go ahead. Ask your new husband a question and find out if that’s true.”

My eyes flicked to Bradley, but he looked just as worried as I did. “Fine. I’ll start with an easy one. If I was fat, would you still want to be with me?”

“Well, that depends.”

My jaw dropped in shock. “That depends?”

“Well, yeah. Did you get fat having my babies? Was it due to medication? Or were you sitting around eating donuts all day?”

“Eh! Wrong,” Eli said, chuckling as he slapped his friend on the back.

“Why is that wrong?” Bradley asked. “If she refuses to take care of herself, why would I want to be with her? ”

“What if I was severely depressed?” I countered.

“Then you should get some fucking help.”

“It’s not always that easy,” I argued. “Sometimes getting help is the hardest part!”

“No, it’s not!” he shouted. “You pick up the phone and make an appointment! Job done!”

Eli chuckled, slapping us both on the back. “See? What did I tell you?”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Bradley argued. “It’s one example.”

“Sure, and you went from arguing about being fat and eating donuts to mental issues.”

“Fine, what if I only wanted to do humanitarian work?”

“And not get paid?” Bradley scoffed. “What’s the fucking point?”

“To help others!”

“Help others by letting them get off their asses and get a fucking job!”

I gasped in shock at his answer—not that I entirely disagreed with him, but there were circumstances that called for help, and he was brushing that all aside.

“I think we all get the point—” Eli started, but I interrupted him.

“What if I cut off all my hair?”

“I’d tell you to grow it back.”

“What if I wanted to decorate the house in all orange and yellow?”

He barked out a laugh. “Over my dead body!”

“What if I told you that N’Sync was the best band ever created?”

“I’d say I have to divorce you right fucking now!”

Eli chuckled again. “See? Honesty is not the best policy. Aren’t you glad we worked this out?”

He walked away, leaving me with Bradley and fuming. I couldn’t believe I’d married a man with so few principles. Or maybe too many principles? I wasn’t entirely sure. But one thing was clear, this marriage was off to a rocky start.