Operation Burlesque BBW Romance

by Michelle Fox

  “And left me behind.”

  He reached out and lightly cupped my cheek, thumb caressing my dry lips. “I didn’t want to. When I arrived in Morocco and needed someone with your skills, it seemed like a sign.” His hand dropped away. “One I read the wrong way.”

  He picked up a small stone and tossed it down the dune. “This was supposed to be a simple first contact mission. I thought we’d get in and get out and then you and I could spend some time together before the next phase.”

  “You would’ve left me again,” I said in an accusatory tone.

  “For a while, yes, but I would’ve returned.”

  I snorted. “You have too many enemies for that to be anything more than a fantasy.” Instead of making me a girlfriend, he’d turned me into a target.

  He nodded, his shoulders slumped. “I thought I had a future with Mara, too. I should have known better. I’m wrong, always wrong.” Blake smacked his fist on the ground, his face twisted in anguish. “I protect the American Dream, Ruby, but I never get to live it.”

  I caught his fist on the downward stroke and cradled it in my hands. “I’m sorry.” And I was. He’d only wanted to be with me. I’d felt the same way and knew well the drive to cleave to someone, the need to find your other half in the world and make them whole. “But we aren’t going to work. It’s better to face the truth, right?” I made the last a question because I wasn’t so sure myself. ‘Better’ hurt more than I liked.

  Blake pulled his hand away. “Not better, no. It’s based in reality. We have no future and it’s not by my choice.” He flopped onto his back, refusing to look at me. “Try to rest while you can. You’ll need all your strength for the walk tomorrow.”

  I lay down too and fell asleep before I knew it, smothered by the desert and the ache in my heart. No matter how much we might want to find happiness in each other, we were not destined to have it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  We slept fitfully, tossing and turning, sinking in and out of sleep. The intense heat, made it impossible to sleep deeply. Just before dusk, Blake’s phone rang, startling us both. He fished it out of his back pocket and looked at the screen.

  “Shit.”

  “What? Who is it?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep. I rubbed sand from my eyes and sat up. The sun hung lower in the sky, blasting us with heat. It would cool down soon, but not yet, not until full dark.

  “Frankie.” He answered the call and passed the phone over to me.

  "Heya Frankie," I said casually. The heat made it impossible for me to be formal. All my social niceties had melted.

  "Thought I would check in and see how things were going.” The rough edges and deep rasp of Frankie’s Boston accent filled my ear.

  I looked at the desert painted caramel by the sun. Thirst singed my throat, my lips had cracked from the heat and my clothes were stiff from the salt in my sweat. "Swell. Just swell."

  "He'll be there tomorrow night?"

  I mentally plotted out the timeline. The night we would sit through, the walk ahead of us and my earlier optimism fizzled and went flat. We weren’t going to make. Not in time for Lilli.

  "Oh no, probably not going to happen. Unless…" An idea struck me. "You want to come get us?"

  “Ruby, no. Don’t do it. We have a way out that’s on our own terms. Don’t give that up.” Blake tried to take the phone away from me but I leaned back, holding it close to my chest and his fingers closed on empty air.

  "What are you talking about? What's going on?" Frankie shouted.

  "I'm the middle of the fucking Sahara, Frankie. That’s what’s going on. There's no water and no way out. You want Blake there tomorrow? You're going to have to come and get us." I put the phone on speaker and navigated to the map app Blake had used earlier. "Here are our coordinates." I started to read them off, but Blake put a hand over mine, muffling the speaker.

  "This isn’t a good idea." His dark eyes pleaded with me to listen to him and he reached for the phone again.

  I narrowed my eyes at Blake, the movement making my sunburned skin sting. Dodging his hand, I said, "Why not? You have a better plan?"

  "Yes, mine is harder but safer. Don’t play into his hands."

  "He's got Lilli god damn you. Lilli. This isn’t about just us and we can’t walk through the desert fast enough to save her." I turned away from Blake. "Here are the coordinates." I read them off. "Got it?"

  "Are you fucking with me, girl? There's a tracker on your phone that says you're in Algiers, Algeria."

  I gave a sharp laugh. "Ha! Algeria. I wish. Listen, dipshit, there's sand in everything out here. I'm surprised the damn phone still works. Look, here's proof."

  I tossed the phone to Blake and stepped outside our shelter, sliding half way down the dune. "Take my picture."

  "Ruby," he started.

  "Shut up and do it." I flipped Blake, Frankie and the Sahara desert the bird, plastering a big smile on my face as I did so.

  Blake sighed but took the picture. He tossed the phone back to me and I sent Frankie the picture. "Did you get it?"

  "No," said Frankie. Then, a second later, "How do I know you’re where you say you are? There’s a lot of desert out there and not all of it is the Sahara. You could be anywhere.”

  “Check the exif data on the image. It’ll confirm our location.” I looked at Blake and said softly, “You’re not cloaking your phone’s GPS are you?”

  He shook his head. “Not unless I have to. It’s always better to look like I have nothing to hide.”

  Good. Now all I had to worry about was whether or not Frankie knew what exif data was. With his job, he had probably tracked people down a time or two. I’d learned about it from an article in Cosmo about online privacy.

  Maybe Frankie had read the same article because he said, “Holy shit. You’re really in the Sahara.”

  "Told ya,” I said flippantly. “Exif data doesn’t lie. So come and get us, Frankie. Or at least tell them where to find our bodies." I hung up then.

  Blake scowled at me. "Jesus, Ruby. That was a little over the top."

  "I don't do well with extreme heat." I felt baked, as if I’d been roasting in an oven all day. I expected my muscles to fall away from my bones any second now.

  "You don't say," he muttered and then shut up when he caught the look on my face.

  I pointed at him. "And you said yourself there was no one coming to save us." I crossed my arms. "Like it or not, our enemy just because our rescue team.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I’m less than thrilled.” Blake glared at me.

  I crossed my arms. “I don’t care if you’re upset. My priority is Lilli.”

  “So is mine.”

  I harrumphed.

  Blake rested his head in his hands, defeated for the moment. “Look, you don’t get it. If he comes and gets us, he’ll keep us. We’ll be no better than prisoners.”

  I shrugged. “We’ll escape once we’re back in civilization.” I could not wait to get out of this wasteland and into a bath.

  His eyebrows went up.“Oh, is that all we need to do?”

  “Well you’re a ninja, James Bond MacGyver mash-up, right? You can make it happen.” I pictured a bath filled with water and decided I would drink the first tub dry, then fill it again to bathe. My throat convulsed at the idea of so much water.

  “Last I knew, ninjas, James Bond and MacGyver couldn’t outrun bullets.” He raised his hands. “I’m unarmed. How exactly should I manage an escape?”

  “You’ll figure it out. What’s so bad about being captive if that’s where we’re going anyway?” I was thinking about air conditioning now, a freon breeze cold enough to turn my blood into a slushie. Better yet, maybe I could find a walk-in freezer to live in.

  “Oh, you know, little things like weapons, putting a plan in place and setting up an escape route. If Frankie takes us in, we’re winging it with no back up and no plan.” He stared at me. “That kind of improvisation gets people killed.”

 
; “Oh,” I said in a small voice. I hadn’t thought of it like that.

  The rumble of a motor cut off further conversation. We both jumped to our feet and peered into the horizon.

  “There, over there!” I pointed at a Jeep heading toward us. “Wow, that was fast.”

  Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Too fast. I don’t think it’s Frankie’s people.”

  “No? Then who?” I looked at him with wide eyes.

  “I don’t know,” he said, his jaw tight. “You go hide on the other side of the dune, don’t come out until I tell you to.”

  “No.”

  He did a double take. “What?”

  “You hide, I’ll go out and meet them.” He started to protest, but I cut him off. “Look, if something happens to you, I’m dead. You’re not saving me from anything by hiding me away. I need you alive. You’re not expendable.”

  I expected him to argue, but he didn’t, just nodded and said, “Okay.”

  I headed down the dune to meet the cars which had spotted us by now. For his part, Blake slunk into the shadows and hid.

  “Over here!” I waved my arms.

  The Jeep zoomed over to me and then stopped, a cloud of dust rising in the air at the disturbance. A person I never expected to see again stepped out of the car.

  “Ruby,” she cried, her round face beaming under her black hijab.

  “Amiyah?” My jaw dropped. I’d last seen her at the souk. We rode the Ferris wheel together and then I’d been kidnapped. Again. At this point, abduction was a life theme.

  “I knew we would find you.” She clapped her hands together with excitement and then ran toward me, her robes billowing around her.

  “What are you doing out here?” I asked as she wrapped her arms around me. I returned her enthusiastic hug, bewildered.

  “When you didn’t come back and when Blake disappeared, I made Father come look for you. I knew something bad had happened. We’ve been criss-crossing the desert since dawn, hoping to find you.” She frowned. “Ferrid is an evil man who brings shame to all Muslims.”

  My eyes met her father’s as he came out of the car. He gave a slight nod.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much,” I said to them both. Then, calling up to the dune, I yelled, “Blake, come on down.”

  He slid down the dune, his suspicion changing to happiness once he spoke to Amiyah’s father.

  “This is good news, isn’t it?” I whispered to him as we climbed into the car.

  He ducked his head to whisper his response in my ear.“It’s a lucky break for sure. You made quite an impression on Amiyah and she considers you a friend. If not for that, we’d be waiting for Frankie’s men to find us.”

  I smiled and he smiled back. I wanted to lean in and kiss him, but fought back the impulse. We weren’t an item, not anymore. I was going to have to quit Blake and cold turkey seemed like the best way. If only it didn’t hurt so much.

  Why couldn’t I have my cake and eat it too? Why did life give me the man of my dreams and then make him into someone I could never have?

  ***

  Amiyah and her father dropped us off at the airstrip. On the drive there, we sucked down multiple bottles of water and feasted on fresh fruit. I could literally feel my skin swelling, plumping up with water. I suddenly had a lot in common with a withered plant restored by an impromptu rain shower.

  At the airport, moved by Amiyah’s rescue of us, I said, “If you come to the States, look me up.” I gave the young girl another big hug. We’d hardly known each other three hours, but we’d managed to forge a friendship I would never forget.

  She smiled and then frowned. “I would love to go to America. We’ll see if father lets me go.”

  I glanced at her father who watched us with a stoic expression. He’d spoken to Blake during our drive, but had yet to address me directly. I couldn’t tell if it was a language barrier thing or a sexist thing. Looking back to Amiyah, I said, “You’re a smart, capable woman and he should be proud to give you that opportunity.”

  “Inshallah,” she said giving me one last squeeze before returning to sit in the Jeep.

  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.