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Commercial flights are a bother. Harley twists her plastic fork deeper into the plastic food tray, wishing the passengers behind her would put some socks in. She'd been so looking forward to finally getting that admission to the Mile High Club.
But instead of boarding a private airplane, where this particular goal would have been easy to achieve, the devil in the guise of Amanda Waller sent them on a merry goose chase after a guy whose expensive business attire is too eloquent for the bomber it hides. They've been on his trail for days, Guy's as slick as his hair gel.
Harley swears that once she lays her hands on him, he's gonna reap a harvest of good memories to draw on for years to come. No one gets in the way of her enjoyment.
And if Lawton doesn't clamp up about calming it soon, she'll go irate on his ass. There's enough junk food left on her tray to deposit in his face.