Ally didn't act impressed or surprised. "I guess shopping for wedding dresses proved a little much, huh?" Her neck rolled over to the side and the new angle allowed her to look at him but she didn't move her head off of the rest supporting it.

Tanner's lower chin quivered some as he fought to contain a smile. He looked like he wanted to laugh one minute or fight against his anger the next. And damn it all, he still looked good enough to eat. Three years did a lot to whet a woman's appetite and her hunger for him grew with each passing day. She hated him for it--truly she did.

His six-foot-three frame didn't do anything but call out to her from the moment he stepped on the plane. Yes, she knew the second he boarded because she heard the stewardess perk right up. Even in his silly disguise, the man commanded attention. Even under his stupid wig with curly bleach-blond hair, the man sent a few inspired chills to her nerve endings. Evidently, his smile did the same for the stewardess on the prowl for a rich husband. Damn him, no double-damn him. Even now, he projected confidence, wealth, and hell yeah, sex appeal.

He took a minute, only one, to get situated. He never bothered to look behind him or to the side. He most likely had the flight checked out thoroughly before he made his reservation. He probably felt fairly confident that the only threat of a Federal Agent happened to be seated to his left.

When he turned to face her, he took his glasses off but he didn't bother with the wig. "You look good enough to screw right here." He smirked.

"Fuck you, Tanner."

"Do you want to? It worked out quite well for us the first time, didn't it? We have two beautiful little girls to show for it and a thriving relationship, from what I can tell." He moved closer. "Ready to go again?"

She swallowed hard and her gaze narrowed on him. Something was way off with Tanner Dorsey and she knew she was the pending problem behind his obvious current issues. Tanner was always light-hearted and a barrel of laughs. He was a lot of fun to be around and too immature to let life catch him by the balls and string him up by them. He just didn't give a shit and he never took himself or anything else too seriously. He lived for the party. Now, he seemed barely able to draw air and when he did, it proved a tortured breath he struggled to gain. His eyes scanned over her and where life once danced, the lights had dimmed. He looked sad and lonely, almost miserable.

Ally stared out at the runway. They backed away from the terminal and she pointed. "Want to see them?"

"I've seen them. I walked right by them in the airport and it took all the strength I had not to pull out a gun, slide it up to Marcel's head and just pull the fucking trigger."

"I hope to hell you aren't armed."