I turned toward the man with the paper, then the plane jolted and I almost grabbed Caden’s thigh for dear life.

“Easy,” he murmured again. His cologne wrapped around me like sin in a bottle. “We’re just taking off.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

I turned back.

Newspaper Man was shifting. His jaw, barely visible beneath the edge of the paper was ticking.

No.

It couldn’t be him.

Could it?

The flight went on in agonizing awareness.

Caden scrolled his phone calmly, occasionally leaning close to explain some “business sites” we’d be visiting.

I tried to pretend I wasn’t hyperaware of every movement behind me.

Newspaper Man occasionally turned a page with...