Running Blind

by Gwen Hernandez

  He was done waiting for his father’s approval to turn the business into something bigger than his dad had ever envisioned. Done waiting to claim what was his. His father would soon see how badly he’d underestimated his only son.

  “Sir!” Lawrence strode across the sand, his coconut brown skin glistening with sweat.

  Glenn turned to Elena. “Cocktail dress. I’ll pick you up at five-thirty.”

  She lowered her eyelids and gave him a coy look, as if she were shy, but he knew better. She grabbed her phone and drink and sashayed toward the house, hips swinging enticingly.

  “What is it?” he asked Lawrence.

  “I followed them like you asked. She picked him up and then drove straight to her house. They were still there when I left.”

  “Did they look,” he waved his hand vaguely, “in love?”

  Lawrence shrugged. “Mussy.” Maybe. “They kissed.”

  Black edged Glenn’s vision. He shouldn’t have asked. “What about the other thing we were working on?”

  “He said that the pilot was a white woman. It was dark and she wore a hat, and he was too scared to notice more. I’ve tracked down two more. Bhodi and I are going to ‘speak’ with them this evening.”

  “Good. But this time, make sure they can’t wake up to tell tales.”

  Lawrence nodded repeatedly. “Yes, sir. Bhodi’s taking care of that problem now, and we’ll be more…thorough with these two.”

  “Excellent.” Glenn rubbed his hands together. Bringing down The Underground would ensure IPI could continue to grow unfettered. And Glenn had ideas that would drive it to new heights. “Ten thousand for each of you if you identify the pilot before tonight’s party.”

  CHAPTER 6

  TWO HOURS AFTER Caitlyn managed to refrain from tackling Kurt into her bed, they sat at her small table eating a platter of cut fruit. God, the look he’d given her when they discussed sleeping arrangements… She’d been tempted to stick her head in the freezer by the time she left the room.

  He’d always been tempting, but she’d somehow managed to keep those feelings under lock and key around him. Well, except for that ill-advised kiss that ruined everything. But now, it was as if he’d taken a sledgehammer to the vault where she’d sequestered her desire and everything came pouring out, exciting and messy and unwelcome.

  Kurt tapped her hand and she jumped. “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just thinking about Rose.” As she should have been.

  He covered her fingers with his warm hand. “We’ll get her.”

  Caitlyn nodded and reluctantly slid her hand free.

  “You know, if you’re going to be this jumpy around me at the party, no one will believe we’re really a couple.”

  “Sorry. I’ll focus.” She couldn’t risk Glenn or Treavor Lambert seeing through their ruse. Rose’s life depended on it. Somehow she needed to relax and enjoy being with Kurt without losing herself to him.

  “You shouldn’t have to. Being together needs to be easy. Second nature.”

  She nodded.

  “Maybe we should practice.” His suggestive grin had her swallowing hard.

  “Practice, huh?” She slid her hand up his wrist, the hair on his muscular forearms soft against her fingertips. “Like this?”

  His dark eyes gleamed as his smiled faded. “That’s a good start.” Raising his free hand, he stroked his thumb across her cheekbone.

  It took all of her willpower to hold his gaze as his fingers slid behind her ear and down the sensitive skin of her neck. A shiver ran through her as he glanced at her lips and cupped the back of her head. Why couldn’t she just give in? For Rose. Maybe even for herself.

  Kurt watched her, color rising in his cheeks as he leaned infinitesimally closer. She inhaled his subtle masculine scent and closed her eyes, narrowing the gap between them until her mouth unerringly found his, as inevitable and unavoidable as the nearby waves caressing the shore. His hot, soft lips pressed to hers, soothing, seeking, capturing.

  He licked the outline of her upper lip and she gasped at the sparks that skated through her stomach. Rather than take advantage, he waited, pressing soft kisses to her mouth, tasting her lips until she finally broke and sought his tongue with her own. First contact sent a jolt through her body, and the room was suddenly sweltering. He tasted like pineapple and sex and something inexplicable and addictive. She wanted to crawl into his lap and—

  Kurt broke the kiss, his breath coming fast and his dark eyes sparkling as he smiled. “That’s more like it.” He planted a quick kiss on her nose and straightened, releasing her and pulling free. “Act more like that and we’ll be fine tonight.”

  What?

  Pulling free of her grip, Kurt excused himself from the tiny cafe table and carried his plate into the kitchen with Rockley on his heels, as if they hadn’t just shared the hottest kiss she’d had since she gave in to her curiosity twelve years ago.

  Caitlyn forced herself to stop staring. How did he go from devouring her one minute to acting like they’d shared nothing but polite conversation the next?

  “I should probably change if we’re going to leave soon,” he said, looking good enough to eat in a black T-shirt and tan cargo shorts.

  In Caitlyn’s memories, Kurt had muscled thighs and calves covered in dark hair, so the sight of his artificial legs was momentarily jarring. But women were probably as attracted to him now as they had been when she, Kurt, and Terrell had gone barhopping in OKC. Maybe more. His youthful arrogance had been replaced with a solemn confidence born of hardships and horrors she could only imagine.

  “Will this interfere with our flight?” he asked, jerking his chin at the ceiling. Rain beat a steady rhythm overhead, dripping from the sloped roof and splattering the windows.

  Shaking her head to clear the fog in her brain, she said, “I doubt it. Showers rarely last long around here.”

  “Mm.” He almost sounded disappointed.

  The muscles in his forearms rippled as he dried his plate, and she had to look away. Good grief. She needed to get a grip. She could not get involved with Kurt. On the rare occasions she got laid, she sought out a man she could guarantee she’d never see or do business with again. One who wouldn’t try to lay claim to her or start a relationship.

  She wanted to see Kurt again after this week, and sex would complicate things. Not worth it. Hell, she didn’t even know the extent of his injuries. Maybe he couldn’t…

  But damn if he didn’t smell delicious.

  She cleared her throat. “You want the bathroom or the bedroom first?”

  “Before I get cleaned up, do you have any pictures of Rose? I’d like to know who to look for.”

  He came around to the table as she thumbed through photos on her phone and then held it out to him, trying to keep enough distance between them to avoid his magnetic pull.

  “Is that her natural hair color?” he asked about her sister’s mass of tight, coppery curls.

  “Yeah. She gets that a lot.” Rose’s hair was as dark red as Caitlyn’s, despite her golden brown skin. “Her dad must carry the recessive redhead gene, which my mom obviously has too. It’s not common, but there’s a photographer who’s documenting mixed-race redheads from all over the world. Rose was amazed to see other people like her with red hair and brown skin. My brother, on the other hand, takes after his dad, brown hair, brown eyes, no freckles, maybe a shade lighter.”

  Caitlyn shared several more photos of Rose, but she was pretty easy to spot in a crowd. “I was three years ahead of her in school, but we bonded over being freckled redheads. Especially when some of the kids started bullying her for her appearance. Strawberry Shortcake, etc. She had it far worse than I did—like kids asking, ‘What are you?’—but she seemed to handle it better.”

  Kurt frowned. “Kids suck sometimes.” He returned the phone. “Actually, so do some adults.”

  Caitlyn could only nod as a deep ache invaded her chest. Why had she let her relationship with her
sister languish? What if she and Kurt couldn’t save Rose? Caitlyn pressed a hand to her knotted stomach, now wishing she hadn’t eaten.

  “You okay?” Kurt asked, touching her shoulder lightly and far too briefly.

  Shoving aside the fear and regret, she straightened and pushed away from the table. “I’m fine. Thanks.” There was no room, no time, for emotions.

  Within an hour, the skies had cleared, and they were on their way to St. Isidore in her Piper Navajo. She rarely wore her hair down, and she was already regretting it as sweat formed on the back of her neck and strands of hair caught in the headset, tugging at her scalp.

  “Do you get airsick?” she asked through the microphone.

  Kurt sat pale and silent next to her in a charcoal suit and gray button-down shirt with the collar open. “No. I just don’t enjoy flying much these days.”

  “Since Afghanistan?” Since his helicopter had crashed and he’d nearly died.

  “Yeah.”

  Shit. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he didn’t like to fly. She’d had no idea how much she was asking when she begged him to come here. “Why didn’t you say something? We could have rented a boat.”

  He glanced at her. “I’m fine. Better to face it down.”

  And that was so like him. Not fearless—because who really was?—but brave. Always pushing his limits. Testing himself. Never giving himself an inch of leeway when it came to the hard stuff. She’d allowed herself to forget some of his best qualities after their friendship had fallen apart.

  They flew over the crystal turquoise waters of the Caribbean in relative silence, the only sound the purr of the propellers. Caitlyn lived for this. The sky was freedom. Freedom from the expectations and limitations put on her by society, from the pressure to be “feminine,” to get married and have children, to measure her self-worth by her appearance or pedigree.

  Not to mention, it was flat-out exhilarating to cheat gravity. Her little Piper might not be an F-16, but it got her in the air. Up here, the world was small. Insignificant. Nothing mattered but staying aloft.

  All too quickly, they were skirting St. Isidore’s southern coastline. Less than thirty miles long, the island had a rough arrowhead shape, with a mountain and rainforest on the southwestern end of the wide base, and dense jungle covering the rural areas. Lambert’s plantation sat on the coast, in a valley just north of Montagne de St. Pierre, a mountain that rose straight out of the Caribbean Sea.

  “That’s it?” Kurt asked, his gaze out the window.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “The guys weren’t exaggerating when they said it was beautiful. Too bad it’s such a shit show.”

  “Yeah. Things are getting better, but there’s a lot of work to do. Your team has had a positive impact here. You can be proud of that.”

  “I guess so.” They rounded the lush mountain and dropped altitude. “Other than Tara, I’m the only one who’s never been here. Hell, even Mick was here as a PJ on a humanitarian mission.”

  “Mick?”

  Kurt glanced at her. “One of my old teammates. The one who kept me alive after the crash.”

  Thank you, Mick, whoever you are.

  “I thought he was going to join me at Steele,” Kurt said, “but he got married. To Tara’s best friend actually, which is how I met her. Mick and Jenna moved to South Carolina a few years ago, and now they have a little boy. Robby’s two.”

  Something in his voice made her ask, “Do you want kids?”

  “I love my nephew, and I think having my own children would be great, but finding the right woman is more important. Kids would be a bonus, but I’m not exactly getting younger.”

  Her chest tightened at the wistful look on his face. He’d be a great dad. Solid, steady, playful, fair. Present. “What are you talking about? You have plenty of time. Men can make babies into their seventies. Just look at that actor…James whatever. The one in that new movie about World War II.”

  “Rockaway?”

  “Right.”

  “Sure, it’s possible, but if I have kids, I don’t want to be too old to play with them. Obviously, there are no guarantees, but I’d like to be around to see them grow up, maybe to be a grandpa.”

  Her heart twisted. Even if she let herself be with Kurt, she couldn’t give him the family he really wanted. “I can see it now, Papa Steele. You’d spoil those kids rotten.”

  “Absolutely.” He laughed. “It’s in the job description.”

  For his sake, she hoped he got the job.

  For the first time since his crash, flying wasn’t so bad. Being stuck next to Caitlyn in close quarters helped. She smelled fresh as sunshine and rain, and shone bright as a jewel in a green dress that showcased her athletic shoulders and shapely legs. And an endless landscape of fascinating freckles.

  He hadn’t meant for things to go as far as they had this afternoon. He was trying to move slowly, trying not to scare her away. He’d thought maybe a few caresses, maybe a gentle kiss, would remind her how good they were together. Get her thinking about the possibilities. And be more comfortable for their mission. But holy combustion, she had lit him up. He’d had to pull away before he let things go too far and sent her running for the hills.

  Now, Caitlyn had stopped talking as she prepared for landing, and Kurt turned his attention to the beauty outside his window. The plane turned away from the evening sun and descended toward St. Isidore, where Dan and Mick had once spent three weeks providing medical care and aid to earthquake victims. Where Dan had first met his wife Alyssa, a nurse for a non-profit, six years ago, and reconnected with her again three years later.

  At least now Kurt could put a place to their stories.

  He managed not to bruise the armrests as Caitlyn brought the plane in low along a wide valley nestled in the foothills of the mountain that towered over the lush island.

  She took a long arc around a sprawling home ringed by grass, thick bushes, and palms. Rows of banana plants and trees with fat leaves filled several acres surrounding the paved runway that seemed to appear at the last minute.

  The touchdown was so smooth, they might as well have been riding a feather onto a pillow. A perfect, three-point landing. “Wow. Dan wasn’t kidding.”

  “About what?” she asked, slowing the plane on the short runway.

  “Your skills as a pilot.”

  “Thanks.” She grinned. “Why do you think I get the big bucks?” Her pink cheeks belied her flippant response, but he didn’t doubt that clients appreciated her expertise. Or her smile.

  Once the plane stopped and she had shut down the engines, several men approached the plane, armed with AKs.

  “We’re expected, right?”

  She unfastened her harness and removed her headset, shaking out her silky hair. “Yes. And I know these guys.”

  God, she was even more of a distraction than usual. Not good now that he needed to keep his wits about him. “I know you said they’d check for weapons, but I don’t like going unarmed.” The only “insurance” they’d brought was a wad of cash. He freed himself from his seat and ran a hand through his hair to remove any marks left by the headset.

  “It’ll be fine. Trust me.” Easing her way to the back, she opened the hatch.

  “It’s not you I have issues with.”

  “Hey, guys,” she said to the guards with a wave. “Would you mind putting the chocks down? I don’t want to get anything on my dress.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” A thick arm reached for the blocks and disappeared.

  Caitlyn kicked off the running shoes and socks she’d worn for flying and slipped on short, strappy, black heels that would bring her nearly eye-to-eye with him. “Ready?” she asked, waving him closer.

  “As I’ll ever be.” He descended the narrow stairs slowly, following her into the soft air.

  “We need to check the plane, Ms. Brevard,” said a barrel-chested white man with a permanently sunburned nose and an Aussie accent.

  “Standard procedure,” she murm
ured to Kurt as she waved the man inside. “Go ahead, Jack.”

  He returned a minute later. “All clear.”

  The men gave Kurt and Caitlyn a cursory pat down and checked her purse, and finally waved them on. It looked like they weren’t taking any chances with security after the attempt on Lambert’s life a few weeks back. Even with the woman who’d saved him.

  When the guards returned to their posts around the perimeter of the airfield, Caitlyn closed the hatch. She took Kurt’s hand and they strolled toward the plantation’s back gate. Golden sun backlit the house, making it impossible to make out the home’s features, and casting the runway in shadow.

  A cool breeze made the warm, sticky air nearly bearable in his jacket. Thank God he didn’t have to wear a tie too.

  Leaning toward Caitlyn, he got a lungful of her enticing scent. “You look amazing.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the lips that left him reeling.

  Up ahead, the wrought-iron-and-wood gate swung open and a man in his late twenties with light brown hair and a smug smile blocked their path. “Caitlyn.” His lecherous gaze traveled down her body and back up again. “Wow. You look fabulous.”

  Who the hell was this punk? They’d just arrived, but was it too soon to punch someone?

  “Thanks.” Caitlyn squeezed Kurt’s hand. She probably wanted to sock the asshole too. “I’d like you to meet my fiancé Kurt Steele.” She turned to Kurt. “This is Glenn Lambert. Treavor Lambert’s son.”

  “Hi, there,” Kurt said as he stuck out his right hand. He couldn’t bring himself to tell the man he was pleased to meet him.

  He was prepared for some kind of power play, but Glenn gave him a quick, firm handshake and stepped out of their way with his arm out toward the house. “Enjoy the party. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  “Okay.” Caitlyn shivered and tugged Kurt up the brick path. When they were out of earshot, she said, “He makes my skin crawl.”