Fifty Shades Trilogy 03 - Fifty Shades Freed

packed your hiking boots,” he says, his voice warm.
    “We’re not going skiing?”
    “That would be a challenge, in August,” he says, amused.
    Oh, of course.
    “Do you ski, Ana?” Elliot interrupts us.
    “No.”
    Christian moves his hand from my knee to clasp my hand.
    “I’m sure my little brother can teach you.” Elliot winks at me. “He’s pretty fast on the slopes, too.”
    And I can’t help my blush. When I glance up at Christian, he’s gazing impassively at Elliot, but I think he’s trying to suppress his mirth. The plane surges forward and starts taxiing toward the runway.
    Natalia runs through the plane’s safety procedures in a clear, ringing voice. She’s dressed in a neat navy short-sleeved shirt and matching pencil skirt. Her makeup is immaculate—she really is quite pretty. My subconscious raises a plucked-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life eyebrow at me.
    “You okay?” Kate asks me pointedly. “I mean, following the Hyde business?”
    I nod. I don’t want to think or talk about Hyde, but Kate seems to have other plans.
    “So why did he go postal?” she asks, cutting to the heart of the matter in her inimitable style. She tosses her hair behind her as she prepares to investigate the matter.
    Eyeing her coolly, Christian shrugs. “I fired his ass,” he says bluntly.
    “Oh? Why?” Kate tilts her head to one side, and I know she’s in full Nancy Drew mode.
    “He made at pass at me,” I mutter. I try to kick Kate’s ankle beneath the table, and miss. Shit!
    “When?” Kate glares at me.
    “Ages ago.”
    “You never told me he made a pass at you!” she splutters.
    I shrug, apologetically.
    “It can’t just be a grudge about that, surely. I mean his reaction is way too extreme,” Kate continues, but now she directs her questions at Christian. “Is he mentally unstable? What about all the information he has on you Greys?” Her grilling Christian this way makes my hackles rise, but she’s already established I know nothing so she can’t ask me. The thought is annoying.
    “We think there’s a connection with Detroit,” Christian says mildly. Too mildly. Oh no, Kate, please give it up for now.
    “Hyde is from Detroit, too?”
    Christian nods.
    The plane accelerates, and I tighten my grip on Christian’s hand. He glances at me reassuringly. He knows I hate takeoffs and landings. He squeezes my hand and his thumb strokes my knuckles, calming me.
    “What do you know about him?” Elliot asks, oblivious to the fact we are hurtling down the runway in a small jet about to launch itself into the sky, and equally oblivious to Christian’s growing exasperation with Kate. Kate leans forward, listening attentively.
    “This is off the record,” Christian says directly to her. Kate’s mouth sets in a subtle but thin line. I swallow. Oh shit.
    “We know a little about him,” Christian continues. “His dad died in a brawl in a bar. His mother drank herself into oblivion. He was in and out of foster homes as a kid . . . in and out of trouble, too. Mainly boosting cars. Spent time in juvie. His mom got back on track through some outreach program, and Hyde turned himself around. Won a scholarship to Princeton.”
    “Princeton?” Kate’s curiosity is piqued.
    “Yep. He’s a bright boy.” Christian shrugs.
    “Not that bright. He got caught,” Elliot mutters.
    “But surely he can’t have pulled this stunt alone?” Kate asks.
    Christian stiffens beside me. “We don’t know yet.” His voice is very quiet. Holy crap. There could be someone working with him? I turn and gape in horror at Christian. He squeezes my hand once more but doesn’t look me in the eye. The plane lifts smoothly into the air, and I get that horrible sinking feeling in my stomach.
    “How old is he?” I ask Christian, leaning close so only he can hear. Much as I’d like to know what’s going on, I don’t want to encourage Kate’s questions. I know they’re irritating Christian, and I’m sure she’s on his shit list since Cocktailgate.
    “Thirty-two. Why?”
    “Curious, that’s all.”
    Christian’s jaw tightens. “Don’t be curious about Hyde. I’m just glad the fucker’s locked up.” It’s almost a reprimand, but I choose to ignore his tone.
    “Do you think he’s working with someone?” The thought that someone else might be involved makes me sick. It would mean this isn’t over.
    “I don’t know,” Christian answers, and his jaw tightens once more.
    “Maybe someone who