Page 5 of Fastest Kill

"Water?" He held up a bottle. "There's also aspirin in the overhead if you need it. Lemon, too, if you want to pretend you're having a spa day."

Frederica opened one eye. The look she gave him could have stripped paint. "If you say one more word, I will throw your ass out of this plane."

"You would have to stand up first, and I'm not confident you can manage that right now."

Both eyes opened. Furious, hazel, magnificent. "I managed to knock a man unconscious three hours ago, and you're in range, Colleoni."

"You threw a boot at him. That's not the same thing as a plane toss." Dario unscrewed the water bottle and set it on the wide armrest between them. "Drink. You are the color of old parchment, and it's not your best look."

"Fuck you." She glared at him for a long moment, then reached for the water and drank half of it in one go. A small victory.

He settled deeper into his seat, crossed his arms behind his head, and said, "Are we going to talk about why you were in Crete instead of Rhodes, or are we pretending that didn't happen?"

"We are pretending it didn't happen."

"Right. Because the bad ass assassin who has never missed a target, never deviated from a plan, and never made a mistake suddenly decided to get blind drunk on a Tuesday..."

"Wednesday."

"Wednesday. On a Greek island that was absolutely not her destination, for no reason whatsoever." He tilted his head. "Makes perfect sense."

Frederica's fingers tightened around the water bottle. "I was blowing off steam. People do that."

"People do that. I have my doubts that you do. You seem the type to plan your bathroom breaks. You once told Kon that spontaneity was a character flaw."

"I did not say that."

"According to him, you said it was 'a failure of tactical discipline,' which is the same thing in your language. The only spontaneous thing I've seen you do is kick a guy off a balcony."

"He fell, and you know it." The ghost of something that wasn't quite a smile flickered across her mouth. It vanished before it could take root. "Why were you in Istanbul?"

"I was helping the Edgeworths look for Serapis."

"You were wearing that red silk shirt hanging out in Kon's warehouse? Doubtful. Athena would have sent me a photo so I could laugh at you looking like a prat."

Dario grinned. "Maybe I was gathering intelligence and drinking whiskey at a rooftop club. Someone has to do the hard work."

Frederica shook her head, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her again. That tiny, involuntary twitch. He wanted to make it happen a third time. He wanted to keep making it happen until it broke into something real.

Careful, she's getting to you.

"Fine," he said. "You were blowing off steam. I was conducting critical research into Istanbul nightlife. Neither of us is in a position to judge the other's coping mechanisms. Agreed?"

"Agreed." She paused. "Where are we going?"

"Rhodes."

Something shifted in her face. The hangover mask cracked, and, for just a second, he saw alarm beneath it. "No."

"It is a ninety-minute flight from Crete. You were heading there anyway. I'm dropping you at your parents' door like a gentleman, and then..."

"You are not meeting my parents."

The speed of it surprised him. Not the words, because he had expected resistance. It was the urgency.

Frederica didn't panic, not about anything, not when there were knives or guns or burning buildings involved. She had walked through the siege on the Colleoni villa like she was picking up groceries.

Her parents, apparently, were more terrifying than pissed-off mafia, undead soldiers, and a fucking trapped djinn. Interesting.