Alphas Prefer Curves

by Unknown

  I looked at Blake who’d been standing there during our exchange. “Why don’t you translate what I said to her father?” Amiyah should have her dream. If I could do anything to help, I would.

  “Uh, that’s not quite the best way to handle this…” He trailed off when he caught the determined expression on my face and then quickly addressed Amiyah’s father. The old man regally nodded once or twice, but otherwise said nothing.

  “What did you tell him?” I hissed. The lack of reaction was unexpected.

  “That you would be happy to host Amiyah if she came to the US.”

  I swatted him on the arm. “I don’t have any place to live, remember?”

  He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Well, a personal invitation is more likely to get Amiyah what she wants than me telling her father what you want him to do.”

  “Could he look less thrilled?” I muttered, watching as the old man settled into the driver’s seat of his car, his blank face showing no emotion. It mystified me. Didn’t he want the best for his daughter?

  “Who knows,” Blake said. He grabbed my hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here. You can’t help Amiyah until we’re out of this mess, right?”

  Inside the stone building that served as the airport’s office, Blake bought us seats on a tiny little plane that looked more like a toy than something that could really fly. I climbed in first, taken aback by the appearance of the interior. The plane sat four and had lime green shag carpeting. The vinyl seats were avocado and worn, with some of the vinyl peeling back to reveal the foam underneath.

  I buckled myself in as Blake climbed in after me. He took in the interior with a wry twist of his lips.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure this thing is safe?”

  Blake smiled. “The way I look at it, so long as the plane isn’t taking off in Nigeria, it’s safe enough.” He settled into the seat next to me.

  “I have no idea what that means. What does Nigeria have to do with us flying in this deathtrap?”

  Blake tightened his seat belt. “It means that planes drop out of the sky in Nigeria like rain. Aviation safety is not their strong suit. So by default, we’re at least one better than Nigeria.”

  “Well, I guess that’s one way to look at it,” I said not finding his answer reassuring.

  The pilot boarded the plan with a small nod in our direction. His crisp white uniform and clean-shaven face gave the impression of competence, which I found only marginally reassuring considering the plane’s ratty interior. The pilot strapped in and flipped some switches in the cockpit. The propellers outside the window began to spin. When the engine coughed, I gripped the arm rests.

  Blake laid his hand over mine and gave it a little pat. “It’ll be fine. Don’t judge this plane by its interior, judge it by its mechanic.”

  “Uh-huh,” I murmured. “You know the mechanic?”

  “I saw him. He looked smart.”

  “Oh that’s reassuring,” I snapped.

  I worried my bottom lip as the plane lurched to the runway either due to the uneven road or some mechanical issue in the plane itself that I did not want to know about. The mechanic looked smart, my ass.

  “Relax, Ruby. It’s going to be okay.” Blake pointed to some square packages behind the pilot’s seat. “If the plane goes down, they have parachutes.”

  “Oh God.” I gulped. All the water I’d guzzled sloshed in my stomach and threatened to come up like a high pressure fountain. The plane picked up speed.

  Blake put a hand on my knee. “The first operation is always the worst.”

  I moved away not liking the sensations his hand evoked in my body. Although it did lessen the nausea. Hmm. Sexual tension as an anti-nausea remedy. They should make a pill. “What was your first mission like?”

  He went quiet for a moment, although quiet was really an oxymoron given the noise of the plane’s engine. “We were transporting an informant to the US for asylum.”

  “Was it as exciting as this mission?” The plane shuddered and I braced myself for a crash, pushing my feet hard into the floor and gripping the arm rests until my knuckles went white.

  Blake watched me tense up without comment. “Yes and no. The informant was high maintenance and out of shape. When the bullets started to fly, we had to practically carry him. One of the guys actually tore his rotator cuff.”

  My eyes widened. “Wow.”

  “I’d been in combat, but never part of a covert op. It was crazy.” He shook his head. “You don’t know where to hide or what to do. We were supposed to be on a private flight to the US, but it was compromised and we got stuck in a FedEx freighter.”

  “And now it’s old hat?” The plane went even faster and my heart zoomed with it. I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting to die.

  Blake ignored my panic attack and continued our conversation. “You get used to it. You start to see the difference between real trouble and minor difficulties. You learn how safe might not always look so safe. Appearances can be deceiving. You have to look past the surface.”

  “Are we safe right now?” I resumed worrying my lip, my eyes shut tight.

  Blake touched my face lightly and gently pulled my lip out from under my teeth. “Yes, we’re safe. Look.” He pointed to the window and I found we were already airborne.

  Blake leaned back in his seat, visibly relieved. Maybe he’d wondered if this tin bucket would take off too. “Everything should go according to plan now.”

  I tried to relax as well, but it was hard to stop feeling like we were going to plummet to our deaths any second. Pointedly turning away from the window, I focused on Blake. “What about Ferrid?”

  He grimaced. “We just hope he has no connections with Frankie.”

  “And if he does?”

  His expression turned grim. “Have you ever used a gun?”

  I shook my head.

  “If things go south, you’ll get a crash course.”

  My stomach started heaving again. I closed my eyes and tried to take deep breaths. Was I going to have to kill someone? Would I accidentally shoot myself? That was more my luck. On the other hand, being a seamstress was all about precise hand-eye coordination. Maybe I would be a good shot.

  Blake wrapped an arm around my shoulders. I didn’t resist the contact. Even with baking in the Sahara for the last twenty four hours, I found his scent intoxicating and I needed the distraction if I was going to avoid a full blown, froth at the mouth, panic attack. Maybe we had no future, but in the here and now I needed Blake almost as much as I needed air to breathe.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After an interminable amount of time, the plane touched down on the outskirts of Casablanca. Another small airfield made of dirt and some cheap outdoor lights. From the airport, we took a taxi into the city where we snagged some clean clothes at a nearby souk and booked a room in a hotel. Blake had me cover my head and face with my scarf to avoid identification and the first thing he bought at the souk was a hat, which he pulled down low on his head.

  Our hotel was one that catered to locals, to the point where the woman who checked us in kept giving us suspicious looks. Blake smoothed things over with his language skills and quickly had her laughing.

  “What are you telling her?” I whispered to him when she gave us each pointed looks, said something and then laughed.

  “That we came here for our honeymoon, but forgot to make a hotel reservation,” he whispered back calmly. “She thinks that’s hilarious.”

  The woman ushered us into our room and left with a little bow, still laughing whenever she looked at us. I wondered what she would think of the truth of our situation.

  The rooms were clean enough but the bedding was faded, the walls in need of paint and the bathroom fixtures looked to be from the 1950s. But the plumbing worked, at least. I took a long shower and then sank into the bed, staring at the ceiling while Blake took his. We weren’t out of the woods, but for the moment we were safe. My body seemed to understand this and
released all tension until I felt boneless and in danger of melting into the bed.

  I was on the cusp of sleep when Blake came out of the bathroom, a towel slung low on his lean hips. He towel dried his hair, oblivious to the way I drank him in. His muscles rippled in sinuous curves. I wanted to touch him, to follow the map of his body.

  Having to share a bed made it all worse. I knew I would be pressed up against him all night. So near, yet so far.

  He’s not good for you. It’s like pining for trouble. Stop it. But I need him, I told myself. Not right now you don’t. He’s the kind of prince charming that gets the girl killed. You’d better break free while you still can.

  I made myself roll over, which removed Blake from my line of sight.

  “Hey, Ruby.” Blake sat on the edge of the bed.

  I rolled back around to face him. “What?”

  “You’re doing good. I just want you to know that. It was scary out there, but you handled yourself well.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You have good instincts.” He swung his feet up on the bed and turned on his side to face me, propping himself up on one elbow.

  “I do?” I looked at him surprised. Then I flushed as I became acutely aware of how thin the towel was around his waist.

  “When the cars came and you made me hide, that was a good move. You can trust your gut.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “A lot of guys have kamikaze instincts. They make bad decision after bad decision, but you’re don’t do that.” He patted me on the shoulder and leaned in close. “We’re going to get through this. You’ll be in California with Lilli before you know it.”

  I went still. If I turned my head our lips would meet. It irritated me how badly I wanted to do that.

  His face hovered over mine, his breath hot on my cheek. When he moved closer, I moved away and held up a hand.

  “We can’t do this.”

  “Ruby,” He whispered. His fingers trailed over my shoulder and to my collar bone.

  “We can’t happen, remember?”

  “We can tonight.”

  “And tomorrow? What then? You keep breaking my heart like this, magician and I’m going to run out of glue to rebuild.” Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. I pressed my hands over my face, hiding.

  “I wish it could be different.” He pulled back and went to lay on his side of the bed. “If I had my way, we would date like any other couple.”

  “No kidnapping, drugs, bullets or assassination attempts,” I said with wry humor.

  “Yeah.” He waved a hand. “Get rid of that bullshit. I would shower you with roses and romance.”

  “That would be nice, but it’s a dream.”

  He looked at me, his eyes serious. “Yeah, but what if it could come true?”

  I looked back at him, moving just my head and keeping my body turned away. “What are you saying?”

  Blake’s eyes met mine, dark pools that brimmed with barely suppressed emotion. “Would you want me if I could ditch the James Bond baggage?”

  I hesitated and then said, “Yes.”

  He gave a sad smile. “I’m sorry, Ruby.”

  “Me too.”

  Blake turned off the light, cloaking the room in darkness. I was just about to fall into a deep sleep, when Blake’s phone rang. His reflexes more developed than mine, he had the light on and the phone in hand within seconds. I blinked blearily as he held it up so I could see the screen.

  Frankie.

  Awesome.

  “What should I tell him?” I asked, reaching for the phone.

  “Let him think we’re still in the Sahara,” Blake said. “Do you remember the coordinates you gave him?”

  Thanks to long practice remembering sewing measurements, I did. All I had to do was close my eyes and I could see the numbers staring at me. I nodded and he clicked the green answer button on the screen and handed the phone to me.

  “Frankie?” I quickly set the phone to speaker so Blake could listen in.

  “Where the fuck are you?” Blared Frankie’s voice. “I’ve got a whole team out there.”

  “We’re in the desert, right where I told you we were. Have your guys check their equipment.”

  “You’d better not be playing me, girl.”

  “The only game I’m playing is survival, Frankie. I just want out of this alive. I’m out of water. Another day, I’ll be out of time, and you won’t be able to save me.”

  Blake gave me an approving nod, pleased with my acting job.

  Frankie didn’t seem to register my response. “If I find out you’ve got an angle, your friend Lilli here is going to pay big.”

  There was a whimper in the background, a high-pitched noise that made my heart freeze. I looked at Blake, eyes wide. His expression grim, he gave me a nod of encouragement.

  “Don’t touch her,” I snarled into the phone.

  “I’ll do whatever I want with her,” he snarled back. “You don’t show with Blake and I’ll do more than make her cry.” He made shushing sounds. “She’s bleeding, Ruby. Red as your name. Maybe I’ll start lobbing off little pieces of her next.”

  “Lilli,” I called out, talking over Frankie.

  I heard a faint, “Ruby,” and then nothing but Frankie’s heavy breathing.

  “Damn it,” I swore softly.

  “Keep your promises, girl. Get me Blake like I asked and the nightmare ends for you and Lilli.” Frankie’s voice was falsely sweet.

  “I’m doing my best, Frankie, but I can’t help it if you sent a bunch of fuck-ups out to pick us up.” With that I hung up. Maybe that was a mistake, but my gut said the longer I talked to Frankie, the worse things would get. I handed the phone back to Blake. “So that happened.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s beating Lilli,” I said, feeling sick.

  Blake dialed a number and put the phone to his ear. “I’m on it.”

  Someone answered on the other end and a fast conversation in French ensued. I paced the room while Blake talked, wondering what trick he had up his sleeve this time.

  When he hung up, I said, “So?”

  “I know where Lilli is.”

  “And Frankie,” I said sourly.

  “And Frankie,” he agreed.

  I heaved a sigh. While it was good to know where Lilli was, it also meant the start of the next hard lump of this journey. “What do we do?”

  “Well, ideally we’d get some sleep and regroup tomorrow, but those guys aren’t going to find us in the desert.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t think it would be a problem so fast.” Now I felt dumb for telling Frankie to come get us. I’d complicated things.

  He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. “So we’re going to bust Lilli out tonight and I’m going to deal with Frankie once and for all.”

  I was too experienced now to be anything but scared at the idea of running some kind of guerilla operation against a mobster. In the movies, it’s exciting. In real life, you felt the aches and bruises, you knew your life was on the line. There’s no stunt double, no happy ending, just risk and bullets.

  God, I didn’t even know how to shoot a gun.

  Would I even have time to learn?

  Blake began to pull on his clothes. “Get dressed. We’re going to meet up with the team and try to get Lilli out before dawn.”

  “Team?” I echoed. “There’s a team? I thought you didn’t want to call anyone?”

  “I’m not. I’m pretending to be someone else.”

  “You couldn’t do that in the desert?” My hand itched to smack him.

  He gave me an impatient look. “I wanted to walk out of the desert, remember? That was the lowest risk scenario and we didn’t need rescuing.”

  I fumed, but held my tongue. The truth was, I’d cost us valuable time with the way I handled Frankie. In hindsight, I had to admit Blake had been right about involving other people. So much for my good instincts. “I made everything worse, didn’t I?” />
  Blake gave a non-committal shrug. “My definition of making things worse means they can’t be fixed. This is still manageable. We aren’t out of options.” He slipped on his shoes. “I made some calls while you were taking a bath. I’ve got a crew ready to run. I told them this would go down tomorrow, but we can’t wait that long.”

  “No thanks to me,” I muttered darkly. Now my hand itched to hit me. I would never forgive myself if I got us all killed.

  ***

  We took a taxi to an industrial area on the outskirts of the city. Blake knocked three times on the door of a small warehouse. The door opened silently and we stepped inside. A short, stocky man with ebony skin, motioned for us to follow him, leading us to the warehouse office.

  The team Blake assembled consisted of a half dozen sinewy but short Moroccoans. Compared to the muscle-bound men that had accompanied us to the Sahara, these guys were toothpicks. They had guns, but I doubted they could fire them without being knocked over. I was taller and bigger than these guys.

  They jumped to their feet at our appearance, muttering excitedly amongst themselves and flashing bright smiles. One of them waved toward a row of weapons lying on a long table.

  I gave Blake a questioning look. “They seem happy to see you. How well do you know these guys?”

  He shrugged. “I know them, they know me. Well,” he corrected, “they know the me I say I am. We go way back. I can trust them.”

  “To do what?” I murmured.

  “To have our backs,” he said. Then he addressed the men in French or Arabic, or a mix of the two--it was hard to tell as he spoke faster than ever. He surveyed the weapons they’d assembled; a grenade launcher, some automatic weapons and a bunch of chemicals and wires.

  “What’s this for?” I lifted a jug containing a clear liquid.

  He took it from me and set it back down on the table. “Materials for IEDs.”

  At my confused expression, he clarified, “Improvised explosive devices.”

  “Bombs,” I whispered.

  Blake nodded. “Bombs.”

  Oh my God. I crossed my arms to keep my hands from shaking. “How are we going to get Lilli out? We can’t bomb her to freedom, we’ll kill her.”