Page 8 of Troubled Skies (Blue Skies #3)

five

Adrian

Adrian had known flying so soon after the accident was going to be difficult.

The therapist his carrier insisted he see had advised against going on any trips until he felt more secure and his nightmares stopped.

But that advice had been given to Ricky, and Ricky had been left behind in LA.

Adrian had a plan—Xanax and Ambien—and so far it was working just fine.

He’d slept through the takeoff, hadn’t had any nightmares, and woken up halfway to London.

It was working perfectly. Except for timing his second pill so he’d be semi-awake through descent but still able to get himself off the plane and to the first-class lounge to wait for his flight to Ibiza.

With a little under six hours left in the flight, he was taking a risk no matter what he decided to do.

Having slept through dinner, Adrian delayed making a decision in favor of finding some food.

He raised his seat from full recline into an upright position, then pressed the call button.

A flight attendant appeared at his side so quickly and quietly it startled him, and Adrian asked if he could get something to eat.

The flight attendant pulled the menu from the pocket where Adrian had placed it after boarding and handed it to him. A quick scan of his choices had Adrian ordering gnocchi in a creamy pesto sauce and feeling guilty about interrupting what was surely break time for the attendants.

“Would you like anything to drink with your meal?” the attendant asked, and Adrian asked for ginger ale.

“Very good, sir. I’ll return with your meal shortly.”

Adrian sat back, then glanced across the aisle, rubbing at his mouth and the odd raw spot on his lower lip as he thought about the man who’d boarded the plane just before they pushed back from the gate.

The pod door across the way was still open, letting Adrian see that the man it contained was sound asleep, hands crossed over his chest. Adrian had no idea who he was, though he knew enough about VIPs to recognize he had to be a very VIP since he hadn’t been in the regular first-class lounge, nor had he been waiting to board with the rest of the passengers at the gate.

His guess was an actor or the son of some billionaire.

Luis would know, but Adrian didn’t keep up with celebrity gossip enough to recognize this man.

Whoever he was, he was gorgeous with a bit of stubble that gave him an almost piratical air, and thick, shoulder-length curly brown hair that framed his face like a halo.

And was that a nose ring? Adrian did a double take, and yes, he had a small silver hoop on the left side of his nose.

Damn. Those little hints of bad boy did something for him.

This man was exactly the kind of guy Ricky would have bumped against as they were leaving the plane then suggested a hookup in the airport bathroom. But he wasn’t doing the things Ricky had. He was Adrian now, and Adrian was not going to be anybody’s throw-away fuck boy ever again.

“Your meal, sir.”

“Thank you,” Adrian said as the attendant deftly raised his table and placed the tray on it.

After eating, Adrian headed for the bathroom.

He paused with his hand on the door and yawned.

His head was still a bit fuzzy from the pill he’d taken earlier, but something niggled at him, and he rubbed his finger across his lips again.

The raw spot on his lower lip tingled. Hopefully his lips were just chapped from the dry air, and Adrian made a mental note to use the lip balm from his toiletries bag when he returned to his seat.

His aisle mate was still sleeping when Adrian returned, and he took a moment to observe the man again, admiring his sharp cheekbones and full lips. Adrian couldn’t help wondering how they’d feel against his own, but that was a Ricky thought he quickly pushed away.

Back in his pod, he reclined the seat fully, then contemplated the pill issue.

If he didn’t decide soon, it was going to be too late to take the Ambien and hope to wake in time to deplane.

A half pill might work, or maybe the Xanax would be enough for him to muscle through the rest of the flight and the landing.

As he tried to make up his mind, the plane hit a patch of turbulent air and shook from side to side.

Something banged in the galley, and screams echoed in Adrian’s head as his pulse skyrocketed, stomach clenching, his body flooding with adrenaline.

Closing his eyes, he counted to ten, then twenty.

He slowed his breathing incrementally with each inhale and exhale, telling himself he was okay, it was just like riding on a bumpy road.

By the time the turbulence subsided, Adrian had taken the half tablet. He counted backwards from one hundred and was asleep before he got to eighty.

Voices called his name while he dreamed of swimming under water. Adrian tried to rise to the surface, but the current fought him, pulled him back down.

“Adrian.”

The voice was kind and warm, and Adrian swam toward the sound.

He opened his eyes to the blurry sight of two people staring at him. One looked annoyed while the other seemed amused.

“Adrian.” It was the kind voice again, and Adrian turned his head toward it but was too tired, his mind too fuzzy, to do more than blink before the fog of sleep embraced him once more.

There were more voices, more words, and then Adrian was lifted from his seat.

“Non, non. I will take him.” That was the kind voice.

There was the feeling of being held against a warm body, and then movement as if he were floating through the air. From somewhere in the depths of his still-slumbering brain Adrian remembered being carried from a burning plane, and fear caused his heart to race.

“Shhh, shhhh. I’ve got you, chéri,” the kind voice said, and Adrian calmed.

Memories of smoke were replaced by a scent that was slightly spicy, slightly sweet and turned his fear into contentment.

He felt safe, protected, and wrapped his heavy arms around the person who carried him as if he weighed nothing.

A blast of cold air roused Adrian enough that he opened his eyes, his brain dully recognizing that they had left the plane and were on the jetway.

“There you are, my sleeping beauty.” The kind voice belonged to the man who had been seated in the pod across from Adrian. “Can you stay with me, chéri?”

Adrian did his best to focus on the man’s face, to answer the question, but his eyelids dipped, and he had to fight to open them back up. He nodded against the man’s chest.

“Bon,” he said as they crossed the threshold and stepped into the airport.

Heathrow, Adrian’s sleep-thickened brain supplied. There was something else he needed to remember, something—

“Do you have a connecting flight, mon cher, or is London your final destination?”

That was it, and Adrian was filled with gratitude that this stranger had figured out what he needed to say. “Ibiza,” he said.

“Merveilleux!” The man’s mouth parted in a dazzling smile, and Adrian couldn’t keep his eyes off his luscious Merlot-colored lips and the dark scruff that surrounded them.

“Are you continuing with this carrier or changing airlines?” That was the grumpy voice, and Adrian turned his head slightly finally identifying its source as the flight attendant who had brought him his dinner.

“Here we go.” The man carrying him came to a stop, and Adrian was lowered onto a seat in the gate area.

Though he was able to keep his eyes open, his limbs still felt heavy, his body uncoordinated. “My bags?”

“I’ve got them, sir.” The flight attendant placed Adrian’s messenger bag and brand-new carry-on— blue because he couldn’t bring himself to purchase the standard black one most attendants used—next to him and laid the gold jacket on top of it.

Adrian let his hand drop onto the leather, comforted by the feel of it.

“Is there anything else you require?” This question was addressed to the man who had carried Adrian from the plane, and Adrian leaned his head back on the seat so he could see his two companions.

“Transport to the lounge, s’il vous pla?t?” the man who had carried him asked, though that wasn’t quite right. Adrian’s brain might have been slow, but he distinctly heard the tone that told him this was a man who was used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

“Very good. I’ll let the gate attendant know.” With that, Adrian was left alone with his white knight.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” he said.

“Non, non, mon cher. I insist that I do. I could not in good conscience leave you to fend for yourself while you are in this state. You will come with me. I have a private suite where you may recover fully.”

Summoning all the focus he could muster, Adrian tipped his chin up and met the man’s eyes. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I am your guardian angel, apparently.” Adrian was treated to another dazzling smile. “But, you do not remember my name? I introduced myself to you on the plane. Moi, c’est Renard, but you may call me Ren.”

“Adrian.”

The smile broadened. “Oui. I know.” Ren moved to the side and sat next to Adrian. It seemed as if Ren was about to say something else, but a black Mercedes golf cart pulled up at that moment. “Our chariot awaits, mon cher.”