Full Domain (Nice Guys #3)

By: Kindle Alexander

Chapter 1





“Man, this is turning into one suck-ass day,” Aaron mumbled quietly to no one in particular as he edged his way through the overcrowded and lengthy terminals of the Atlanta International Airport. He swore his backpack weighed at least fifty pounds and the small carry-on he tugged behind him easily added another twenty-five. He’d tried to stick to the bare necessities for this trip, but with all his gear, electronic equipment, and his most important ASUS ROG notebook, which he never left home without, he still managed to over-pack.

The gates and corridors were congested with rude, indignant travelers, more than he’d ever seen gathered in one place before. From the conversations he’d caught snippets of along the way, the irritable attitudes were due to unexpected flight delays across the eastern half of the United States.

A winter storm had blown through, dumping a shit-load of ice in its wake. Apparently the magnitude of the storm had caught the southern half of the US by surprise. The meteorologists had completely missed this monster of a storm before it bore down on its intended target. At least that was the continued excuse he kept hearing from the airport personnel as to why they weren’t better prepared for this crippling event during one of the busiest traveling days of the year. Words like happy and holiday were used with increasingly angry bursts of fucking and asshole added to the mix.

Not even the Christmas carols playing overhead helped lighten the mood surrounding him. So much for peace on earth.

Keeping his eyes focused on the large information screens, Aaron scanned the arrival and departure listings, watching as hundreds of delayed flights were canceled all across the East Coast—not that any of that actually mattered to him. His flight from Miami had arrived so late he’d have missed his connecting flight regardless of the inclement weather.

No way in hell would he spend the night in some corner of this overly congested airport, waiting for the flight schedules to open again. The Federal Bureau of Investigation would just have to work their magic and get him on a different flight tomorrow or when things let up outside. Until then, he’d find a vacant room in a five-star hotel—preferably the Drake—his favorite place to stay when he stopped in Atlanta.

Aaron sighed as he followed the discontented masses toward what he hoped was an exit. If the weather was as bad as everyone kept hinting, he might not get a chance to eat at Poor Calvin’s, Aaron’s favorite little Asian-fusion eatery on Piedmont Street. The lobster fried rice was to die for and thoughts of the dish had actually been the only thing keeping him sane as they’d flown high above the city; it felt like they’d been circling for an hour and a half, waiting for their chance to land. His stomach picked that second to protest, the loud rumble reminding him he hadn’t eaten anything since the protein shake he’d choked down for breakfast.

Aaron looked around and spotted a food kiosk about fifty feet away. That should take care of his urgent food needs until he could get to the hotel. Taking a deep breath, he carefully dodged his way through the crowd, attempting to move toward the kiosk, which proved a trickier process than he’d anticipated. He apparently hadn’t truly experienced the vexed people in this airport until he tried to work his way between them.

“Hey, move it!” the guy behind him bellowed as Aaron slowed to merge farther to the left.

“I’m sorry. Excuse me,” Aaron apologized when he accidently stepped in front of another person in his rush to get out of the middle of traffic and away from the jerk behind him. The woman in his path huffed, and although he’d never touched her, her hands flailed dramatically like he had tripped her in some way.

“Dude, watch it,” the man beside her quipped, making a show of keeping the woman on her feet as she reached out for his arm. Aaron moved quickly to the opposite side, tugging his luggage out of the way and inadvertently stepped into the flow of traffic going the opposite direction.

“Shit!” he exclaimed loudly when a large trunk-style suitcase rolled right over his sandaled foot.

The scowl he’d been holding back slid firmly in place as he watched the person who’d so rudely rolled over his foot, glance back over his shoulder to give him a very clear fuck you glower as he kept going without any hesitation.

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