I look away first, unsettled by my own reaction to him. I've spent my adult life surrounded by beautiful people. Actors, musicians, models. Men who make their living on their looks and charm.
None of them has affected me the way Finn McKenna does with a single look.
"You should try to sleep," he says again, his voice gentler now. "I'll wake you before we land."
This time I don't argue. The adrenaline of the morning is wearing off, leaving me hollow and exhausted. I recline my seat and close my eyes, listening to the steady hum of the jet engines.
"Finn?" I say without opening my eyes.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For coming to get me."
There's a pause, and I almost think he's not going to respond. Then, so quietly I almost miss it, "Get some rest, Nova."
I drift toward sleep, feeling safer than I have in months. Whatever is hunting me, whatever danger waits on the ground below, it can't reach me here. Not with Finn McKenna standing guard.
My last conscious thought is that I might be trading one form of danger for another. Because the way Finn looks at me is its own kind of threat.
Just not the kind I want to run from.
I waketo the gentle pressure of a hand on my shoulder.
"We're beginning our descent," Finn says, his voice low and close to my ear. "Time to wake up."
I blink against the light streaming through the windows. The sun is high in the sky now, illuminating a landscape unlike any I've seen before. Mountains stretch in every direction, massive and imposing against the horizon. Forests of dark green cover their slopes, broken occasionally by meadows or rocky outcroppings.
"It's beautiful," I breathe, pressing my face closer to the window.
"It's home," Finn says simply, but I can hear the pride in his voice.
As we descend, I get my first glimpse of the airport. If you can call it that. It's little more than a strip of tarmac in a valley, with a single building that looks like it might house a dozen people at most.
"That's where we're landing?" I can't keep the surprise from my voice.
He nods. "Private airfield. It’s used mostly for wealthy tourists heading to ski resorts or hunting lodges. No commercial flights. Minimal staff. Perfect for our needs."
The landing is smooth, despite the small runway, a testament to the pilot's skill. As the engines power down, Finn is already on his feet, gathering our minimal luggage.
"Stay close to me," he instructs. "We'll be met by a driver I trust, but the less anyone sees of you, the better."
I nod, pulling a baseball cap low over my eyes and slipping on large sunglasses. It's not much of a disguise, but it's all I have.
Finn leads me down the stairs of the jet and across the tarmac toward a waiting SUV. The air is crisp and clean, so different from the smog of Los Angeles. I breathe deeply, savoring the scent of pine and open space.
"Finn McKenna, you old bastard." A man steps out of the SUV, grinning widely. He's older, maybe sixties, with a weathered face and sharp eyes that miss nothing. Including me. "And company."
"Joe." Finn nods, his posture relaxed but alert. "Thanks for the pickup."
"Anything for my favorite spook." Joe's eyes flick to me again, curious but not intrusive. "Ma'am."
"Joe," I reply, keeping my voice neutral.
Finn loads our bags into the back of the SUV, then opens the rear passenger door for me. "Joe's an old friend. Former Special Forces. He knows the drill."
I slide into the backseat, and Finn joins me rather than taking the front passenger seat. Keeping himself between me and any potential threat, I realize.
"Three hours to your place?" Joe asks, starting the engine.
