Since We Fell_A Second Chance Romance Novel

by Ann Gimpel

  “You trusted me enough to bring me. Don’t second guess yourself,” Brice countered, certain if it was a “me or him” situation, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.

  “What he said,” Juliana chimed in.

  Brice could have hugged her. They were definitely playing for the same team again. God how he’d missed her presence and her support. And a whole lot more he couldn’t let himself think about. Not until Katie was safe.

  Chris pushed heavily to his feet. “We’ll see how things unfold once the field team sets up shop and the plane is on the ground. Meanwhile, try to catch some sleep, so you’re not zombies when we get there.”

  “What about you?” Brice asked, concerned about General Wray.

  “The pilot and I are trading off four-hour rest breaks. Mine begins in about thirty minutes. There’s a seat in the back near the duffles. Once we’re in Egypt, you’ll receive specific orders. You cannot question them, no matter how stupid or ill-conceived you think they are. Am I clear?”

  Julie nodded. So did Brice.

  Chris softened his tone. “I would never dream of telling you how to conduct a dig,” he told his daughter. “Nor would I presume to tell you how to care for your patients,” he said to Brice.

  “Point taken,” Brice said. “This is your area of expertise, and we have to respect that.”

  “Sorry, Dad,” Juliana said. “I’ll rein in my opinions and be a good soldier.”

  Relief etched into his features, and he returned to the cockpit, closing the door behind him.

  Julie put her headset back on and reached across the aisle. He laced his fingers with hers. Even if they didn’t have a future together as a couple, they were friends again. She clearly saw him as a source of comfort and support, and it warmed his heart.

  He wanted to pull her into his lap, slash his mouth down on hers, but now wasn’t the time. If she was still as conflicted as he about their relationship, furtive kisses would add an emotional overlay neither of them needed until this mission was over.

  Chapter Twenty

  Juliana was keyed up enough about the phalanx of unknowns ahead, she didn’t expect to fall sleep, but the flight was so smooth, it lulled her. Having her hand clasped in Brice’s helped. It felt normal. Right. Like they were settling back into a familiar place, one that had brought them both joy.

  Before she’d allowed her temper to rule the day.

  Maybe she should apologize. Again.

  Or maybe they could let the past die, the bad parts, anyway, and pick up from where they were. It felt like a wiser course.

  His eyes were closed, head tilted against the seat back. She studied him with his mop of blond hair that never stayed put and his Greek-god build. And his eyelashes. No man had a right to eyelashes like that, so long and thick they almost brushed his cheeks. It took discipline not to extricate her hand, so she could run it through his hair.

  Her father emerged from the cockpit, stopping where their joined hands blocked the aisle. He raised a gray brow, and a knowing smile played around his mouth, but he didn’t say a word.

  Julie untangled her fingers from Brice’s, and her father walked past them, probably on his way to the seat in the back. Brice opened his eyes and regarded her with his direct, appraising gaze. He removed his headset. “We probably won’t get in trouble again while your dad is resting.”

  She tugged her headset off and unplugged it. “Hope not. The pilot seems like a real badass.”

  “He’s not that terrible,” Brice replied. “He’s a competent field operative, and they’re not particularly flexible about how they want things done. I’ve worked with men like him before. They’ve secured sites, made them safe enough for me to provide medical services.”

  She smiled, feeling a soft, vulnerable place deep inside crack open. She’d locked it up tight after catching Brice with Sarah. “You always wanted to be a doctor. Is it anything like what you thought it would be?”

  He drew his blond brows together. “Yes and no. If I was twenty-two again, though, I’d choose the same career. Never really saw myself doing anything else.”

  “Kind of like me and archaeology. I couldn’t wait to get to graduate school so I could lose myself in ancient worlds, pick through what our ancestors left, and try to make sense of it.”

  “You always loved to dig. Hell, we’d go clamming, and you’d dig way below the clams.”

  “You used to tease me about leprechauns and the pot of gold. Or finding a secret path that led to China.”

  He laughed softly. “I’d forgotten that part.” He reached for her hand, and she clasped it. “Thanks for being you. I’ve missed...everything about us together.”

  Her heart swelled, the crack in her guarded places widening. “Me too. I was such a stupid—”

  “Uh-uh. None of that. No looking back.”

  “Funny, but I came to the same conclusion. If we have any chance at all, it will be from building on now.”

  He twisted in his seat so he faced her, his expression serious, eyes brimming with an emotion she didn’t have a name for. Hot and intense, his gaze drew her. “We make our own chances. Don’t answer me now, but think about what you want. I can’t guarantee I won’t make another mistake, one where you’ll want to strangle me. What I can guarantee is I’ll never hurt you on purpose. That was true fifteen years ago too.”

  Her eyes burned, and she swallowed around a thick place in her throat. Hope burned a fiery path through her, from the soles of her feet to her head. Her father and mother knew. What had her mother said? Something about deciding Brice was the only man for her long ago.

  “We can talk after we’re back home,” she said, but her voice vibrated with longing.

  “We can, and we will. It’s more than I hoped for, and plenty good enough for now.” He smiled, his whole demeanor conveying warmth and promise. “Maybe we should put the damned headsets back on and try to catch some shuteye.”

  She wanted to undo her harness and wrap her arms around him. The touch and taste of his lips sang to her, lured her, but now wasn’t the time or place. They had to get through this mission in one piece, hopefully with Katie still relatively uninjured.

  She was smart and scrappy. Resourceful too. All of them were strong assets. Julie blew out a tense breath.

  Brice stopped before settling his headset in place. “You’re thinking about Katie, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but how did you know?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve always read people easily, and I spent years being attuned to your moods. Try not to worry. We’ll get her back.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I get feelings about things. It’s part of practicing medicine. Not everything is science. Some of it’s hunches. Kind of like the one you had that led you to the dig level that’s created all the problems. I had no idea you academics were such a bloodthirsty crew.”

  “We’re not usually this overt about it, but theft of original work is enough of a problem, most universities have a mechanism in place to assess culpability and deal with PhDs who steal other researchers’ work.”

  He laced his fingers with hers again. “Get some rest, Julie. Egypt will be here before we know it. I have a feeling this will unfold fast.”

  “My mom said the same thing.”

  “I’ve always liked your mother. She’s the perfect combination of tough and maternal.”

  “Thanks. I’ll tell her you said so. It will please her.”

  Julie plugged her headset back into the jack and shut her eyes. Excitement she and Brice might have another chance rippled through her, heady as a fine, old wine. It almost displaced her anxiety about what lay ahead, but not quite. Her father was right to chastise her. This wasn’t a university field trip where everyone was deluded enough to believe they had equal rights and an equal voice.

  She vowed to be a good soldier, just like she’d told her dad. He’d brought up a good point about not fancying himself an archaeologist—or a doctor.

  A hand o
n her shoulder woke her. Her father said. “We have about half an hour before we’ll begin our descent. Get up. Move around. Throw some water on your face.”

  She blinked and shook her head, working to clear the cobwebs from her sleep-fuzzy brain. “Geez. How long was I out?”

  Chris smiled. “Most of the trip, but I bet you didn’t get much sleep last night. Not after that visit from Doug Johnson.”

  “You’re right, I didn’t.”

  Across the aisle, Brice stood and stretched his arms over his head, pivoting his torso from side to side. “I’m going to troll through the galley. Want anything, Julie?”

  “Water, but I can get my own. I need to get up too.”

  Brice nodded and started toward the rear of the plane.

  “Thanks for keeping your headsets on,” Chris said. “I’ll let you know when you have to buckle in for landing.”

  “Why doesn’t the plane have a PA system?” she asked, thinking back to her conversation with Brice.

  “It did. We disabled it. Far easier to scramble the headset electronics than the whole PA system.”

  “Brice thought it was something like that.” She unbuckled her harness and got to her feet. “Would enemy agents actually listen in on planes like this one?”

  “You betcha. Modern microprocessors and wireless systems have made it easier than ever. Frequency scanners are always active—and manned. When they zero in on something interesting, they amplify it.”

  She finger-combed her tangled hair. “There’s a whole world out there I don’t know much about.”

  “Yes, there is.” He tugged a lock of her hair. “Braid that. Get it out of the way so it won’t blow in your eyes or give someone something to grab onto. See you on the ground.” Her father vanished into the cockpit, oozing “bring it on” energy. He’d lived and breathed combat and covert operations for a long time, and he probably missed the adrenaline that came from courting danger. She’d always wondered why he retired and suspected Ariel had something to do with it.

  She walked to the back of the plane, stretching this way and that to ease her cramped muscles. Bending over the galley sink, she cupped water in her hands and sluiced it over her face.

  Brice came out of the head, drying his hands on a paper towel. “All yours,” he said.

  Julie walked into the neat bathroom, noting it was twice the size of a normal airline lavatory. She dug through drawers until she found a hairbrush and carried it to the galley where she perched on a counter and brushed out her hair.

  “You have the most beautiful hair. It’s always reminded me of liquid midnight.” Brice came up behind her and threaded his fingers through her locks.

  She leaned into his touch. It would be easy to pivot and wrap her arms around him and...

  She drew away from the magic and promise of his touch. “I need rubber bands. Dad said to tie my hair out of the way.”

  “I saw some. Hang on.” He bent and opened a lower drawer on the other side of the galley. Sure enough, it contained a potpourri of items. Scissors. Sewing kits. A stapler.

  Brice handed over a packet of rubber bands with a flourish. “Your wish is my—”

  “Knock it off.” Grinning, she sectioned her hair and turned it into four braids. Once they were done, she wound them together and secured them at the bottom with another band.

  “Wow. You’re fast,” he observed.

  “I should be. It’s my hairdo du jour for the field.”

  He stood close to her, so close, she itched to close her arms around him. He dropped his hands atop her shoulders and kissed her forehead, the gesture so sweet it cut through her resolve to keep her distance until after they had Katie safely rescued.

  Julie threaded her arms beneath his, splaying her fingers across his back.

  He held her close for one, wonderful, delicious moment before letting go. “You feel the same, but different.”

  “You too, but I need a more comprehensive sample.” She smothered a comment about the tantalizing bands of muscles she’d felt running along his back. He’d been kind of a skinny kid, but then so had she.

  “A sample, huh? You’ll be sorely disappointed I don’t date back to the Pleistocene.”

  “Good thing,” she shot back. “If you did, I’d be turning you over to anthropology.”

  “Buckle in for landing,” sounded through her headset.

  Brice snatched up two packages of crackers and a bottle of water. “Come on. I located nourishment. I have a feeling we won’t be eating much on the ground.”

  “The food in the Americanized parts of Cairo is safe enough, otherwise—”

  “I understand,” he cut in. “I’m the one with the background staring through a binocular scope at microbes that make you sick. Got to stick with things that have been well cooked or boiled.”

  “Ha! Even that won’t save you from dysentery some of the time. We were all sick at the last dig.” She sank into her seat and reached for her harness.

  “Did you take antibiotics?” He buckled in.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Yeah, you probably incubated antibiotic resistant bacteria. They’re a bitch to get rid of.”

  The plane dropped lower until her ears ached with the abrupt pressure change. When she stared out the window, all she saw was desert. Where the hell were they? Come to think of it, neither her father nor the pilot had said boo about the ground team or Katie’s whereabouts.

  She opened her mouth to ask but was worried they were tuned into some tower frequency like they’d been back at Boeing. It didn’t seem likely if they were landing at an abandoned strip, but her father’s nonchalant comment about enemy ears being everywhere had been unsettling.

  The wheels touched down so gently, she wasn’t sure they were on the ground until negative acceleration dragged at her as the jet slowed. They’d arrived. It was game time. The crackers Brice had insisted she eat congealed into a sodden mass in her stomach.

  Chris came through the cockpit door as the other pilot taxied; he motioned for them to get rid of their headsets. Once they were unplugged, he sank between their seats and said, “Ground team believes Katie is still in the same spot, so it’s where we’re heading. It’s about a twenty-minute drive from here. Maybe thirty.”

  He blew out a breath and continued. “Rather than waiting for us, they’re going in. If things proceed well, they’ll have Katie by the time we get there. We can triage any others who may require care, and turn the Land Rover around.”

  The plane rolled to a halt, and the pilot killed the engine. Chris moved to the door and unlocked it. The steps deployed automatically. He hadn’t asked for her input on the current plan, and she didn’t like it. A whole lot of things could go wrong. No reason Katie would trust this new batch of men any more than whoever had kidnapped her.

  “Work as a team and hand the gear up this way,” her father instructed.

  Brice loped up the aisle and bent to undo the webbing holding the various bags and duffles. Julie ferried items to her father, who dropped them down the stairs. Presumably the pilot—or their driver—was at the bottom, but she didn’t hang around long enough to check.

  “I’m leaving my personal stuff in the plane,” she told Brice.

  He nodded. “Yeah. Me too.”

  “Grab the two long, black ones on the bottom,” Chris yelled. “That should do it.”

  Julie hefted one as she carried it, figuring it had to be some type of rifle. Her father took it from her and gestured her down the stairs. Two men wearing traditional, flowing Egyptian tops called gallibaya, layered over trousers, hurried over. Despite turbans, the men were American—or maybe European. She’d bet her bottom dollar on it. Although they had dark eyes and swarthy complexions, they didn’t carry themselves like men in the Arab world did.

  “We’re here, boss,” one said in pure Brooklynese, clinching her impression.

  What looked like AK-47s were slung over the men’s shoulders. The pilot, still wearing the wool watch cap, handed a
n envelope to the man. “You get the rest when we return, and the plane is still here and untouched.”

  The faux Egyptian snapped off a sloppy salute and took stock of what was in the envelope before pocketing it.

  Brice trotted down the steps. He had on dark glasses, but he still raised a hand to shield his eyes from the glare. She put on her own sunglasses. They helped but not all that much.

  An older Land Rover roared out of nowhere, screeching to a halt next to them and their pile of gear. Another turbaned man—this one Egyptian—jumped out and began grabbing duffles and throwing them into the back of the car.

  Julie greeted him in Arabic, but he ignored her. Not a total surprise. If she’d been male, he’d have greeted her in return.

  The pilot got into the front seat of the Land Rover. Chris herded her and Brice into the back before climbing into the front, which forced the pilot to straddle the center hump. She inhaled deeply. The baked clay scent of Egypt was unique. Heat beat down on her, dry and unforgiving. The sky was a brilliant blue without a cloud in sight.

  “I didn’t miss this part,” she muttered. “Damned hot here.”

  “Yeah, and this is December,” Brice said. “Bet it’s worse in July.”

  “Over a hundred every day,” she told him. “Doesn’t cool off much at night, either.”

  Their driver jumped nimbly inside, fired the engine, and took off, driving fast. If Julie was a decent judge of body language, he was frightened half to death and wanted nothing more than to be done with this.

  Chris twisted until he leaned over the seat back and gave her and Brice phones. “Only use these in an emergency. Numbers are programmed into them. I’m A, the pilot is B, Julie is C, Brice is D, and the embassy is E. They’re fully charged. Keep them on and close to you. Call the embassy only as a last resort.”

  Her mind jumped from topic to topic, which told her how nervous she was. One minute she wondered how much money was in it for the mercenaries if they watched over the plane. The next, she was certain Katie would run from the team breaking into the trafficking den. Brice threaded his fingers with hers, and she held on tight.