by Mary Buckham
“Fine.” She trusted herself to glance at Stone, who remained silent at her side, letting her extract intel in the way she’d been trained. But not by him. By her upbringing. It was why Ling Mai had chosen her. “I’ll go upstairs and pack my bags.”
“No need to, my dear.” Blade spoke to her, but kept his gaze on Stone. “I’ve had my people do that for you.”
Alarm bells jangled internally, or maybe it was the pressure of Stone’s arm around her waist tightening.
“Fine, then.” Play pretty, Vaughn. Don’t let them see you sweat. “Then I guess we’re ready.”
“We want to leave before the storm strikes.” Blade nodded to someone behind her and added, “In my personal car, Vassily. Vaughn and her husband only. See to the rest of the guests also.”
Blade walked away, far enough for her to lean against Stone and whisper in his ear.
“Bad news or good?”
“The rushed departure?”
No, the weather forecast.
Play nice, Vaughn. Remember, Stone is on your side, most of the time.
“Yes, the travel arrangements.”
“Not sure.”
Why couldn’t he have lied to her and reassured her? But then again, this was Stone.
She glanced at her watch. “You think they know?” she asked Stone as he started to move away.
He shrugged.
Men. Next time, she was going to ask for Jayleen as a partner. Unsettling tarot cards aside, at least the woman spoke in full sentences.
Stone turned to look at her. “You coming?”
“Right behind you, darling.”
She just hoped it wasn’t a decision she was going to regret.
Chapter 19
Some days simply went to hell faster than others. Vaughn was trapped in one of them. Staring out into the teeming mass of humanity that was India from Blade’s limousine, she tried to tune out everything around her and focus on a plan. Any plan. But nothing materialized.
The limo, large enough for eighteen passengers, cramped her, made her feel as if she were in a gilded cage. It contained only Blade, three of his security guards, herself and Stone, and one very silent, very distant driver. She’d watched the other auction winners, some dressed in Armani and others in poor ill-tailored knockoffs pile into two other limos, their expressions a mixture of triumph and wariness. Not that she blamed them. Only one would walk away the final winner, with the power to annihilate.
Her stomach twisted.
“You look pensive,” Blade remarked, lolling against the leather seat across from her.
“Just curious about where we’re heading.” She reached for some bottled water, chilled and ready at hand.
“And I always thought of you as being open to surprises,” Blade said with a laugh.
“Surprises, yes.” She sipped to wet her dry throat. Think before you speak, she warned herself. For once, think before you speak. “And you have surprised me.”
“With the auction?” He leaned forward, his hands clasped across his knees, looking so much like the old Blade—fun, flirtatious, always up for a new experience. What had happened? Had he changed or had she? And how did she stop him from going any farther down this dangerous path?
“Yes.” She, too, leaned forward, aware of Stone silent at her side, aware of the risk she was about to take. “Why, Blade?”
He looked momentarily perplexed until he sat back and laughed, the sound vibrating around the inside of the car like a tidal wave.
“Ah, Vaughn.” He wiped his eyes and glanced at Stone. “Your wife, she is still so, so—”
“Naive?” came Stone’s laconic reply.
“Yes. A good word.” Blade stopped laughing and said something in Russian to the driver. “Vaughn is still so naive, and innocent, are you not?”
Vaughn wasn’t sure she liked being the butt of these two men’s comments. But it wasn’t the words alone that worried her; it was Blade’s tone. Something was up.
She glanced out the window, aware they had been traveling west, back into Simla’s crescent-shaped ridge, but instead of heading directly west toward the main road to Delhi, their car had veered off and was now heading north, winding along steep narrow streets jammed with native bazaars and verandah-like sidewalks. They were no longer traveling toward Delhi, nor were they traveling with the other two limos.
Something was definitely up and she didn’t like it.
A quick glance at Blade revealed a curious shuttered expression, much like a hawk watching a trapped mouse. Stone tensed at her side. He might not have been familiar with the terrain, but no doubt picked up on the silent tension now whipping through the vehicle.
“What’s going on, Blade?” she demanded. Let him think her naive, but she was still a diplomat’s daughter and understood the value of timing. Now was not the time to be cowed or meek. “Where exactly are we going?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
It was not a good answer.
Stone shifted in his seat and three weapons were immediately drawn and aimed. At him and at her.
“You treat all your guests this way?” Stone said, sitting back very, very slowly, both his hands in plain sight and relaxed before him.
Blade didn’t answer him but spoke to her. “How is your father, Vaughn? We have not really discussed him.”
When in doubt, bluff. “Last I spoke to him he was fine. Why?”
The smile curving Blade’s lips did nothing to settle her stomach. “He is aware of your marriage?”
This time, she was the one who laughed, though it came out as more of a strangled wheeze. “Very much aware.” Then, because there wasn’t much to lose, she added, “Aware and unhappy. You still haven’t told me why you’re asking about him or—” she glanced at the weapons still held high “—or why we’re playing this silly game.”
“Ah, but Vaughn, life is all a game.” He glanced again at Stone. “I’m sure your husband here would agree.”
Stone nodded but remained quiet.
“Look.” Patience never was her strong suit. So let him see what he expected to see. “Stop with the cryptic comments, the threats.” She waved one hand toward the closest thug and heard everyone inhale as the man jerked the gun slightly higher. She ignored them all. “And tell me what’s going on. Is this because Stone won at the auction? Or does it have something to do with my father?”
The car slowed before Blade answered. It slowed and pulled between two peeling stucco buildings, almost scraping against the walls. Darkness closed in as overhanging balconies and the incoming rain clouds blocked the afternoon light.
The lane took only a moment to pass through and beyond, but Vaughn could have sworn it took years.
They had emerged into a wide field, dotted with hundreds of blood red poppies, incandescent against the dark low-lying clouds nearly kissing the ground.
Vaughn’s heart sped up as the car halted and the motor stilled.
The nearest goon glanced once at Blade before opening his door and stepping out, gun still plainly visible. Another thug waved Vaughn and Stone forward, his weapon giving them few options except to comply.
Only when she emerged into the muggy, thick air did Vaughn realize how chilly she felt. Only Stone at her backside kept her from shivering. No doubt such a move would earn a black mark in her already crowded copybook.
A quick glance around gave her few clues as to their location, but did alert her to one pertinent fact. The sight of a modified Mi-8 turbo engine Russian helicopter.
Was this good news or bad?
She turned to Blade, who was just then exiting the car. “Is this some kind of joke? A game to see if you can scare your guests before you fly them to the next auction?”
“No.”
Okay, that answered one question. This was bad news.
“Then what’s going on?” She fisted her hands on her hips. Let Blade believe it was from outrage; in truth, it was to keep them from shaking.
His gaze wa
s level and steady as he spoke. “The man outside the hotel earlier.”
She shook her head, wondering where the conversation was heading now. “What man?”
“One of the paparazzi.”
She’d forgotten all about him. The auction of a weapon of mass destruction tended to push small details to the back of one’s memory. Her voice held honest confusion. “What about him?”
“I believe your father sent him.”
The penny dropped with a sickening thud.
“My father sent a—no wait, you’re saying the man wasn’t one of the paparazzi but a CIA agent?” Alex’s words came back to haunt her. Not that she was about to let Blade know that. Instead she stepped forward, waving her hands before her. “Are you kidding? My father is the director of Central Intelligence. These are not his servants to be ordered around at a whim.” She glanced pointedly at Blade’s own guards. “So you jumped to the erroneous conclusion that CIA agents are following me around India, on my honeymoon, to what? Take photos of my new husband? I’m sure Father has plenty without extras. What’s really going on here, Blade?”
“You tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Was that man following you or with you?”
Her voice rose. “You can’t possibly be saying what I think you’re saying.” She was taking a few lessons from her sister. Chrissie in a snit was a sight to behold. “First I’m naive.” She glared at Stone, including him in her fit of pique. “Then my father is having me trailed, and now.” She threw her arms in the air. A risky move with jumpy men holding loaded weapons. “And now you’re accusing me of being a spy? A secret agent. That, that has to be the best joke of all. Isn’t it, Stone?”
Her pseudo-husband gave her a wide grin.
Her outrage, only partially faked, seemed to turn the tide, as Blade shook his head and stepped closer to her, raising one hand to lay it gently against her cheek. A gesture she remembered from days gone by. A connection.
“Vaughn, I cannot take the risk,” he said, his eyes darkening. “I wish to believe you are still innocent. For old times’ sake.”
She felt the warmth of his hand, the thick air swirling around her as the advancing storm gained ground, heard the slow wind of the helicopter warming up its engines. It was all so surreal. Until Stone cleared his throat and the present slammed against her.
“So what?” she asked, her voice subdued. “What are you going to do with us?” Are we dead?
Blade shook his head, answering her unspoken question first. “I shall leave you two here. My gift to you. Ciao, bella. If I thought you were in truth an agent, you would be dead.”
Then he turned to walk away, taking all three guards with him.
Vaughn didn’t know if she wanted to shout and run after him, or flee just as fast in the other direction. Instead she did nothing. Stood stock-still while he clambered aboard the helicopter, its blades kicking up dust and wind. He glanced at her once, raising a hand in farewell, and the chopper rose then flitted off like a dragonfly toward the west.
“Damn,” Stone whispered beside her.
She wasn’t sure if it was relief or frustration behind his single word.
Behind her the limo’s engine roared to life. The driver speedily fishtailed back down the small alleyway.
She and Stone were alone. Alive, but as effectively neutralized as if they’d been hog-tied and gagged back at the hotel.
Stone’s voice broke through to her. “Communication with the team is out. The storm, or location, or both, is interfering with the commsets.”
Great. The day was just getting better and better.
“You going to do something here or just play mannequin?” Stone asked her.
“Yeah, I’m going to do something.” Anger was slowly replacing the fear of only moments ago. A fear based on knowing that any second her life could end.
But it hadn’t, and she still had a job to do.
She slung her Prada bag off her shoulder, glad Blade’s goons had thought to retrieve it from her room and give it to her before they’d entered the limo. Her hand closed over her cell phone.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Stone said at her side, frustration replacing his earlier tone.
“No.” She racked her memory for a number and flipped open the pink, rhinestone-studded clamshell case. Punching in the number, she looked at Stone. “I may be naive, but I am not without resources. Why don’t you make yourself useful. Run down that alleyway and find us a cab.”
“To do what?” he asked, spearing one hand through his hair. “In case you haven’t noticed, we are in the middle of nowhere, your boyfriend just choppered out of here to attend a second auction in a secret location and even if we knew where it was being held, we have no way of getting there.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” A singsong voice answered on the other end of the line and she focused on it. “Is this the Fagu Potato Research Center? Good. May I speak to Wilfred Huntington III?”
“What—” Stone sputtered. A very un-Stone-like sound.
“Trust me,” she told him. “Find the taxi. We’ll be on our way in less than thirty minutes and arrive at Blade’s auction location a good three to four hours ahead of him.”
“How?”
“Trust me.”
Chapter 20
“What the—”
“It seats two.” Vaughn headed toward the plane at a fast clip; they’d already lost twenty-three minutes and the clock was ticking.
“Looks like a T-38 Talon.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then what—cripes, it’s a Javelin.”
Should have figured Stone would know about the newest private jet available to billionaires with the need for prestige and power beneath their fingertips.
“It’s not even on the market yet,” he whispered, scanning the thirty-five-foot length of gleaming aluminum. “How the hell are you going to fly it?”
“Don’t worry, big boy. I’m rated for multiengine instrument flying and have the required turbine hours I need.”
“Vaughn.” He stood his ground. Rock man was back. “This is a prototype. Not even on the market. You can’t hop in and drive it like the family car.”
She glanced at the plane. “In most cases, you’d be right.”
There. That was it for being understanding. They didn’t have time to review her qualifications. Or lack of them, which he didn’t have to know. She was his only chance to get them both to where Blade most likely was. End of story.
“So what does this have to do with a Potato Research Center?”
She circled the outside, doing a preflight inventory before returning to his side. “I have this friend—”
“Should have figured.”
“—who took me for a spin or two in this puppy a while back. He also happens to be very involved in different aspects of sustainable agriculture. He also owns half of Idaho—or is it Montana? Anyway, I took a chance he’d be at the Research Center and came in on this.”
“Big risk.” Stone didn’t sound impressed, especially when he added, “How long ago?”
“Oh, he arrived about a week—”
“Vaughn.”
Not a good sign when he used her real name.
“Doesn’t matter. Either we get in this and fly it out of here, possibly dying in the process, or we stand here and let Blade get away with killing who knows how many innocents. Your choice.”
“First.” He raised a finger of his right hand. “We don’t even know where Golumokoff went. Second, even if we did, it’s not likely the two of us can get past his security measures. And three, with communications still out we don’t even have the team backing us. Then there’s four.” He glanced over his shoulder at the storm clouds pressing closer every minute. “Four, I’m not so sure it’s safe to fly an experimental aircraft out of some makeshift airfield, through the Himalayas, with the mother of all storms rolling in.”
“Chicken.” She smiled at him, brushing aside a lock of
hair that had blown across her face.
He shook his head, then released a belly laugh. “Hell, princess. Your old man screwed up big-time when he didn’t nab you for the Agency.”
Leave it to Stone to stop her in her tracks.
He was climbing into the plane when he turned around. “You might want to get a move on here.”
That was almost a request.
It took her another three minutes to finish her preflight checklist and clamber into the cockpit. Fortunately, the Javelin had a hands-on throttle and stick and switch configuration that would make an instrument takeoff pretty straightforward if need be.
“Hold on to your hat, Stone.”
There was no response, just a quick thumbs-up.
It wasn’t glamorous. Or smooth. But she got them into the air with only a few words her mother wouldn’t have approved of.
At any other time, she would have avoided the Javelin’s 49,000-foot ceiling and 528-knot cruising speed, but this time she couldn’t afford to. She had one guess, and one guess only, to make the right call. And one chance to stop Blade. She had to get where he was headed before he did and to do so would require flying high above the commercial jet speed and ceiling.
“You keep trying to reach the team,” she directed Stone over the headset. “See if they can meet us where we’re going.”
Though by the time they arrived all the fireworks should be over.
“And exactly where is it we’re heading?”
It said something that he hadn’t called her on this until now. Partners? Or did he finally trust her to lead as well as work in tandem?
“Italy,” she replied. “Lake Como. Ling Mai should have the coordinates to Blade’s house there.”
“Any reason Italy?” Stone shot back.
Two small reasons. So small Stone had every right to call her insane for trusting so much to so little intel. The first was the phrase Blade used back in his hotel room when she’d been hiding behind a curtain. A phrase that included the words Lake Como. And the second hint, his parting phrase to the both of them. Ciao, bella. Goodbye, beautiful. Such a common expression, especially if one was already in an Italian mind-set.
