He desperately needed something to distract him from leaving Ali behind. His heart felt detached from its life source, and he rubbed his chest as the whine of the engines on the Gulfstream increased. In no time, they were trundling down the ramp toward the takeoff position.
Looking up through the round window, he saw Ali standing outside the doors of Ops, watching his aircraft. Her arms were wrapped against herself. He knew that people who lived in desert regions got cold very easily in a November rain like this one. Her hair was a black cloak around her face and shoulders, making her look hauntingly beautiful and yet, so alone.
He lifted his hand, placing it against the window, hoping she could see it.
She did! Ali lifted her hand to him and smiled. His heart opened powerfully as he drowned in the sweetness of that moment.
Ram knew as a sniper, her vision was superior to most people, but he was surprised she’d been able to see him place his opened hand against the portal. Warmth and gratefulness, like heated ribbons of happiness, wound around his heart. As the Gulfstream turned away from Ops, he removed his hand from the window. It felt as if an invisible cord that was holding them together had dissolved in that moment.
Three weeks was a damned long time. He was going to bury himself in work to try and make it hurry by. All he wanted, all he could envision in his mind and heart, was picking Ali up at the Reagan National Airport and meeting her outside security. His dog Mazzie would love to see her once again—he honestly wasn’t sure who would be more glad to see her—Mazzie or him.
Then, his imagination took over and a dozen scenarios played out in his mind, all of them with Ali in his arms, in his bed, and them loving each other, as they’d never loved before.
He was lousy with words but he knew he could show her how much she meant to him. Sometimes, touch communicated better than a thousand words, or a kiss, or . . .
Ram sighed and scowled, forcing himself to focus on the mission facing him now on the laptop screen.
*
A litany of what she would say to Ram was running through Ali’s head as she walked through security, heading for the passage that would spill all passengers out into the main terminal at Reagan National Airport. She’d taken a commercial flight, business class, thanks to Artemis. They treated their employees as if they mattered, instead of stuffing them back into the cattle-car coach section of the plane where only misery, tiny seats, and sitting on top of your neighbor, reigned. Ali was grateful to have had Artemis pay for a business-class seat for her. It was unexpected, but a very nice surprise.
All she could really think of were Ram’s last words to her before he left Tucson: Eres mi todo, you are my everything . . .
She went to sleep at night, lulled into heated dreams about them together at last. The next day, memories of his last moments with her before rushing off to board came back again and again. They tantalized her and softened the edges of her loneliness without Ram’s larger-than-life presence. She saw Ram had wanted to kiss her. And she wanted to kiss him, but the last minute interruption ruined the moment. There had been no time left to simply come together and appreciate one another with a kiss that kept going on, and on, and on. How many nights had she dreamed of that very moment? Nearly every night.
Happily, Cara was doing okay. She’d had some ups and downs after Ram left, but Tyler was adroitly situating himself as more than her PSD. The man knew psychology well and his Montana upbringing, his laid-back style, and that soft accent of his, served to calm Cara down, not hype her up. He was a release mechanism for her, even more than Ram had been. And that was good—very good. It left her not feeling guilty leaving her sister behind because Tyler was an angel in disguise to her as well as her family. He just had a knack for dissolving other people’s tension, worry, and anxiety. She was more than grateful to him being in their lives when they needed it the most.
Tyler had cornered Ali at the end of the third week and been frank with her, urging her to leave. He reported that Cara and he had established a bond that should keep her stable after Ali left.
Ali knew the combat medic wouldn’t lie to her. She felt some of her sense of responsibility lifting, and as she had packed yesterday for the journey east to Artemis, she felt lighter, more hopeful than she had in a long time. Ali knew it was because of Ram waiting for her, wanting to be an important part to her life.
As she carried her laptop briefcase on a strap across her shoulder, she walked quickly, wanting to get out of the herds of people, the noise and general cacophony that always drove her to distraction. Having PTSD just exacerbated her need to run away from all of the crowds and noise assault, to seek shelter, peace, and quiet.
Ram was that safe harbor for her. As Ali moved up through a narrowing hallway of the security area, she spotted him standing in back, a head taller than most of the expectant crowd surrounding the area. A smile pulled at her lips as their gazes met and locked. Lifting her hand, she saw him return her smile, and her need for him shot through her.
They had talked daily; usually in the evening after Ram had finished his eight to twelve hours a day at Artemis. She had never laughed so much, or felt so dizzy with joy, as when he’d share funny things that had happened at work. Sometimes it was about an operator, a mission, or some Texas slang that Wyatt, a real-life Texas cowboy and ex-SEAL, threw out during a mission briefing. Texas had a lot of colorful sayings!
Ram was usually the one person who hadn’t heard the Texas slang before, and had to ask Wyatt what the hell he was talking about. That always brought a lighter moment to those briefings, often much needed. Ali was glad to see that Ram could take being the fall guy with good grace. He didn’t have the usual male pride that made him resist admitting he didn’t know something. More and more, she loved his humbleness and humility.
Today, Ali had chosen her clothes carefully. She wore a light-gray blazer, a tasteful, white silk blouse beneath it, and gray wool trousers. She had to look business-like for the coming day’s events even though she’d already been hired.
It was barely eight a.m., and she was expected at Artemis HR at ten a.m. to begin a round of interviews. She knew there would be three, with Wyatt being the last one. Then, the assistant at Human Resources had told her yesterday, Wyatt would take her, Ram, and Wyatt’s wife, Tal, to lunch at a nice little restaurant about ten miles away from the security company.
She was going to be busy! And all she wanted right now was to be with Ram somewhere quiet and private, with only the two of them.
But it wasn’t going to happen. She swung out of security and saw Ram move to her right, walking around the crowd, heading toward her as she aimed for a nearby hallway that was less cluttered with people.
“Hey, stranger,” Ram teased, moving off to one side between two storefronts, “welcome home.”
Ali loved the deep tenor of his voice, the glint of burning need of her written clearly in his green eyes, that wonderfully shaped mouth of his curved in a warm smile—all for her.
“Thanks,” she said, standing next to him, staying out of the way of passengers hurrying by. “You look even better in person, Torres. Did you know that?” She saw him preen beneath her compliment, his gaze intensifying as he held hers.
“Well, that’s good to hear, mi princesa.” He slid the laptop strap off her shoulder before she could react. “Let me carry this for you. How many bags do you have coming in the carousel?”
“Just two.” She looked him up and down. The mid-December weather in Washington, D.C., was cold. There had been a snowstorm, the first of the year in the capital area, five days earlier. She saw snow banks outside along the wet, black asphalt roadways. Ram wore a purple sweater that Cara had knitted for him as a going-away gift. He looked damned sexy in those tight-fitting blue jeans and black motorcycle boots that were wet and gleaming from the snow.
The black, nylon down-filled coat that fell to his hips only accented his military-short, black hair and straight brows across green eyes that missed nothing. He looked
like dessert to Ali. Should she tell him that? No. Maybe wait until all the official functions were done and over with at Artemis. Ram knew it was a done deal, and that they were only going through the motions this morning.
“Come on,” he said, cupping her elbow, “follow me. I know this place like the back of my hand.”
He protectively situated her on the inside of him, and Ali smiled at the gesture. “I’ll bet you do.”
“On ops we fly out of Joint Base Andrews. Here, when we have to take commercial flights, Reagan is our airport of choice.”
“But you were picked up by a Delos jet three weeks ago at Davis-Monthan,” Ali said, walking with him. He had cut his stride in half for her sake, which she appreciated.
“We use the Delos Gulfstream fleet when there’s an emergency of some kind. They have big Gulfstream that can fly around the world, too. Dilara Culver, the President of Delos Charities, usually flies in one of them. She never flies commercial. Hates it. Can’t say I blame her. I hate it, too.”
“It’s a pain in the ass to fly commercial anywhere anymore,” Ali agreed.
He snorted. “Don’t get me started.” He took her down another hall, an escalator that disgorged them into the massive baggage claim area. All the time, he was looking around, always the operator on guard, always looking for what was out of place.
In no time, Ali had her luggage. Ram insisted on placing the strap of her laptop diagonally across his chest and claiming her two bags of luggage. All she had to do was follow him out to the short-term parking lot. The street was salted to melt the ice, the wind cutting, temperatures below freezing.
Ali was glad to have the bright-red muffler that Cara had knitted and gifted her with last night, saying it was snowy and cold where she was going. She’d pulled it out from beneath her camel-colored coat that fell to her knees and wrapped it warmly around her neck, tucking the ends in beneath the front of her coat. Her long, black hair was loose and free, like a warm cap around her head.
Ram led her to a black SUV with darkly tinted windows. He opened the passenger door for her.
“Climb in. I’ll take care of your luggage.”
She nodded, more than happy to escape the blustery winter winds. The sky had patches of blue splotched between the dark-gray, low-hanging clouds. The whole area was snow covered, clean and pristine. Ram climbed in, starting the vehicle.
“I’m such a desert rat,” she said, laughing. “This is damned cold weather, Torres.”
“Yeah,” he grunted, “I hear you. I have desert rat blood running in my veins, too. Now, I’m going to take you directly to Artemis. The HR team is there waiting for you. They’re just going through the motions, Ali. The most important interview will be with Wyatt. He’ll take you down to the second floor below ground, beneath the farmhouse. He’ll show you around Mission Planning. We all have offices on the third floor, with lots of windows and light, and you can see the world outdoors. But our planning sessions are done behind secure doors on that second floor. You’ll get a feel for the place.”
“Where are you going to be?”
He pulled out into the traffic, heading away from the airport on his way toward Alexandria. “First, I’m going to deliver your bags to another part of the third floor. We have a section for operators or people like you coming in to interview with us. They’re like five-star hotel rooms. And then I’ll join you later when you’re with Wyatt.”
“Oh, good, I’m glad you’ll be there, Ram.”
He threw her a teasing look. “Miss me? I sure missed you.”
“Yes, I did. It was so good talking with you every night. That was a wonderful lifeline between us.”
Nodding, he entered the freeway, the SUV picking up speed. “I’m having a helluva time keeping my hands off you.”
“You think it isn’t mutual, Torres?”
“Yeah, I think it is, Ms. Montero. I see that look in your eyes and that speaks volumes to me.”
Chuckling, she sat back, relaxing. “First, business.”
“Yes, but after that lunch with the Culver family, me, and Wyatt at that nice little bed-and-breakfast place, it’s my turn.”
“What do you mean?”
“After lunch, they’ll want you to relax. I told Wyatt yesterday that you were having dinner with me at my condo.”
Her heart leaped. “Good move!” She saw the gleam in his eyes grow more intense. “I know you’re a good cook. What are you making for us?”
“Are you open to a T-bone steak with all the fixings? I got some baked potatoes, sour cream, jalapeños, and jack cheese for them. Plus, I make a healthy salad. Oh, and I also made dessert—a chocolate cake because I know how much you love chocolate.”
Ali reached out, touching his jacketed arm for a moment. “It sounds perfect, Ram. Thank you for doing all this for me.”
“I thought, maybe after dinner, we’d spend a little time together. And of course, Mazzie isn’t going to let you out of her sight. Later, I’ll take you back to your room at Artemis. I’m sure you’ll be whipped by that time. This is an intense, stressful day for you.”
Shrugging, she said, “Stress was being in that tree hide watching Azarola’s fortress. This is nothing in comparison, Ram. I think you know that.”
“Yes, I do,” he said, giving her a quick glance. “But I also know this is a different kind of stress. I know you’re looking forward to starting your job with us. You have bills piling up and you don’t want to take it out of your savings or put it onto your credit cards.”
“You’re right, it’s a different kind of stress. What I’ll really look forward to is being with you tonight. I’ve really missed you in all kinds of ways. After you left, I would go out into the garage and it would be silent, no one was there to meet me.”
He chuckled. “Well, wait until I show you my place. And be prepared for Mazzie’s adoring assault on you . . . ”
CHAPTER 12
December 12
Alexandria, VA
Ali was glad to sit down and have lunch with everyone at the homey tavern along the two-lane road near Artemis. She enjoyed having Ram at her right elbow. To her left was Tal Culver-Lockwood. The Culver children ran the day-to-day business at Artemis. Tal overlooked the entire security company while Matt, one of the fraternal twins, ran KNR, kidnapping-and-ransom division. Alexa, the other twin, had run the sex-trafficking position, but later, moved to the Educational Division. They all had a lot of military experience and it showed in the way Artemis had been thoughtfully constructed. It was one of the most state-of-the-art security companies on the face of the earth, as far as Ali could tell. With Delos Charities giving it massive family financial backing, Artemis had the most advanced technology and equipment needed for black-ops missions. Money was no object for these families, who owned a hundred-billion dollar a year global shipping business.
Just before lunch, Ali had sat with Wyatt and Ram in one of the Mission Planning rooms on the second floor, buried deep within the earth. Wyatt had offered her two-hundred-twenty-five-thousand dollars a year, plus so many other perks. It left her stunned in the best of ways. And yes, she had accepted the job. Wyatt gave her a good ole boy Texas grin, rubbed his large hands together and welcomed her into the Artemis family—and it was a family, Ali realized.
For tomorrow, Wyatt had instructed Ram to help her lease or buy a home or condo. Two years earlier, she’d had a condo near CIA HQ, but had sold it because she was living in Sonora, Mexico. Now, it was house-hunting time again. Artemis had given her a surprisingly generous moving allowance, and what staggered Ali was that the company would pay for any lease or house that was purchased outright, so there was no mortgage on it. Instead, they would take a small, monthly stipend from her paycheck to pay Artemis back, without any interest.
Now, she understood why Ram enjoyed working with this dynamic group, who truly valued every person they employed.
It put her in awe of the good things this company did for its hard-working people. She was glad to leav
e after lunch and ride with Ram back to his condo in Alexandria. The sunshine was bright, the sky had cleared and was almost blindingly blue, with snow glittering beautifully on the ground, like a clean, white coverlet across the rural country road that led past the Artemis farmhouse.
She liked that the three-story farmhouse was a working farm with Artemis hidden inside. The farm had a huge, hydroponic operation, with many buildings near the house itself. There were farm employees who ran the multi-million-dollar hydroponics business. But once she stepped inside the farmhouse, it was actually a camouflage shell protecting Artemis from the prying eyes of the world, as well as from their enemies.
As Ram drove, Ali closed her eyes, feeling relaxed in his presence. He didn’t try talking to her, seeming to understand she’d been bludgeoned with information coming at her from fifty different directions all morning. He sensed she needed some peace and quiet.
Once at the ten-story condo residence, Ali followed him to the underground elevator after they left his SUV in the parking garage. Ram was always alert and so was she. Being in black ops wasn’t a cloak one wore and then removed; it permeated their entire way of life for the rest of their lives.
“My place probably looks pretty stark compared to your folks’ home in Tucson,” he warned her, opening the door and gesturing for her to go on in.
Ali walked into the airy, bright, multi-windowed condo. She stepped aside, allowing Ram to enter. “Industrial design style?”
He nodded, touching her arm. “It’s got nothing on the warmth of your house,” he agreed. “This way . . . ”
They entered another area that had half of a partition separating it from the rest of the home. She noticed a black, leather couch, two chairs, and a nearby steel and glass coffee table. Everything was spare and stark, like an office.
To Ali, that wasn’t what a home represented to her: safety, a nest to rest within, and comfort above all else. She missed seeing greenery. There were no living plants sitting in pots, anywhere. What did get her attention was that on the fireplace mantle there were two photos in frames. She recognized one as her SEAL team from years earlier. Another one was of her with Husna, the Afghan child. And that was it.
Taking A Chance_Delos Series_Book 7B1 Page 12
