by Charles, Eva
“That will never happen again. I won’t tolerate that kind of misogyny from either of you.” I bounce my fingertip off the small piece of luggage to emphasize my point. “It’s disrespectful, and I deserve better from Smith, and certainly from you.”
Gray sits down on the bed near me, but far enough away that I don’t immediately have the urge to get up. “I had a choice of a few contractors to provide backup for this mission. One of those companies was Smith’s. Initially, I rejected the idea because it meant coming clean about my work with the EAD—and all the lies I’ve told over the years.” Gray draws a breath, but instead of calming him, it seems to crush his spirit, making the tiny lines around his eyes more prominent. “Telling Smith was hard enough, but now that he knows, there’s a risk my brothers will find out too. And the real possibility that they will never forgive me.”
His voice is heavy, tinged with sadness, but I’m still too mad to offer even a word of comfort.
“But even with all the risks,” he says frankly, “in the end I chose Smith’s company because I’m confident that if something happens to me, he’ll never leave you behind. He will use every resource he has to help you.”
Gray inches closer, placing his large hand over mine.
I don’t push him away this time. I don’t have the heart, or the desire to shun him.
“If you contact my handler,” he continues, “she won’t lift a finger to protect you unless she can do it without compromising the agency. She won’t even protect me, if it comes to that. Her job is to protect the integrity of the mission, and that of the agency. It’s not to save us if things get too messy.” He squeezes my hand, and weaves his fingers through mine. “I dragged you into this, and I need to be absolutely certain you’ll be safe no matter what happens. I won’t apologize for that.”
The man’s impossible, but I’m thawing.
Gray cradles the back of my head, pulling me toward him. “If I die, I want to die knowing you’ll be okay. I need that peace of mind. Give me that.”
My heart clenches. I know the risks. There are always risks in this type of work. Every day. I’ve lain awake worrying about the safety of my team members plenty of times. But this is different.
If I die. If you die, a big piece of me will die with you. If you die, my heart will take its final breath, withering inside a barren shell.
I reach up and rub his arm, finding solace in the friction. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” I promise him. “I couldn’t bear it, Gray.” I’ve kept my emotions mostly in check—at least outwardly—but my voice is thick and weepy, and if I don’t get a grip, I’m going to cry all over his clean shirt. “But if you pull any more crap, I’ll kill you myself before we’re done.”
His shoulders begin to shake as the laughter consumes him, and he draws me tight to his chest. I close my eyes and let the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat lull me into a false sense of security. Because there are no assurances in this life.
“I have something for you,” he says after a few minutes, pulling away to reach into the nightstand for a black velvet box. “A little something for your carry-on.”
I’ve learned with Gray that marvelous toys come wrapped in pretty velvet boxes and pouches. “A little something for the plane?” I tease lightly, running my fingers over the luxurious nap before opening the deep, hinged box. Four pairs of earrings. The brilliant jewels wink at me: emeralds, topaz, rubies, and sapphires—each pair a different cut and design.
That prickly haze that yokes every cell when I’m overwhelmed has arrived. It prompts me to respond to his extravagant gift in the only way I know. “I’m sure this isn’t costume jewelry from Claire’s at the mall.” I close the box and hand it back. “I can’t accept it.”
Gray’s expression is unreadable as he takes the velvet box from me. He carefully opens the lid, holding the contents not far from my chin. “We won’t be able to do meaningful check-ins while we’re there. Wear the green pair to let me know everything is proceeding well. Put the yellow pair on if you hit a speed bump that you can manage. The red pair will signal me to quickly find a place where we can talk safely.”
God, he’s annoying, with an answer for everything. “And the sapphires?” I ask with more of an edge than the moment requires.
“When it’s done, I want to see the sparkle of the gems reflected in your dazzling blue eyes.”
I tilt my head up. The haze has lifted, but the prickly feeling lingers. “I suppose these are government issue, like the shoes and gowns?”
Gray has the good grace not to lie through his smug little smirk. “These are on me. I hope when we’re finished, you’ll accept them as a bonus for a job well done. You’ll earn them. But like everything else, it’s ultimately your choice.”
I have no intention of keeping the earrings, but there’s no reason to argue about it now. “And what will the consequences be if I don’t want them?” It’s an impertinent question to lighten the mood. A flirtation laced with innuendo, nothing more.
But a dark, joyless shadow descends over his face, sweeping across the sun-drenched room.
“The flight plan’s been filed.” He grabs my carry-on bag from the bed. “We need to get going.”
I nod solemnly, following him out, with wisps of melancholy trailing behind, but never close enough to swallow us.
30
Delilah
The sun is shining, with the light drizzle just a memory by the time we reach the plane. It’s not just any plane. It’s a jet. A Boeing, with the words Wilder Enterprises scrolled in imposing navy script along the side. I’ve flown on private planes. I’ve actually flown on the Wilders’ smaller Gulfstream, but even that doesn’t compare to this monstrosity.
The crew greets us inside. “Mr. Wilder.” A man who appears to be the pilot holds out his hand. “It’s a perfect day for flying. It should be smooth skies all the way to Amidane.”
Gray smiles. “That’s what I like to hear. This is Delilah Porter. I know that you, all of you, will make her comfortable. Delilah, meet Lou. He’ll be the pilot on this leg of the trip. The co-pilot,” Gray gestures to a lovely woman who looks to be a few years older than me, “is Lou’s wife, Samantha. I believe she’s our pilot on the return trip.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Porter,” she says courteously. “I do indeed have the honor of bringing us home.”
I detect a faint British accent, formal, but not as posh as something you’d hear on the BBC.
“And finally,” Gray says, “Lori and Dobbins round out the very capable crew. They’ll make sure you have everything you need while you’re on board.” We smile politely at one another.
“Lori, why don’t you give Miss Porter a quick tour and help her settle into the bedroom?” Something passes between Lori and Gray, and I can’t help but wonder… “The master bedroom,” he adds.
Lori nods and turns to me. “You’re going to love it,” she gushes.
“Trippi and Baz are in the conference room.” Gray places a hand on my arm. “I’m going to catch up with them. They need to review the layout of the palace again. You have it down cold, so make yourself at home and relax. You don’t need to be seated until takeoff.”
Lori leads me around the massive space, pointing out every feature along the tour. The interior of the plane, including the chairs, sofa, and tables is warm tan leather and glossy dark wood.
“The guest bedroom is on the other side of the plane, near the conference room. We also use it as a dining room, although Gray rarely uses it that way.”
“Guest bedroom? The plane has a guest bedroom?” I sound like the country girl who’s visiting the big city for the first time, but who has a guest room on a plane? It would come as a surprise to almost anyone not named Wilder.
Lori laughs. “The plane is designed for comfortable family travel. When Mr. and Mrs. Wilder are aboard—JD and Gabrielle,” she clarifies, “Gracie sleeps there.”
Of course. I’m sure her daddy has the room outfitted wit
h monitors so he knows every time she passes a little gas.
“This is the master bedroom. It has all the amenities of home. Maybe a few extras.”
My large tote with essentials is already on the bed. Lori shows me how the lights and sound system work. The room has a walk-in closet, and an en suite bathroom with a shower that’s bigger than mine at home.
“I hung everything from your garment bags so your clothes wouldn’t wrinkle any more than necessary. I can unpack your bag once we’re in the air,” Lori says, pointing to my tote, “if you’d like.”
I wrap my arms around my waist. This is just a small taste of the luxury to come. Some people like to be fussed over, but I’m not accustomed to the doting and it makes me itchy. “That won’t be necessary. It’s a long flight. I need something to keep busy.”
“Would you like a drink or a snack before we take off?”
I shake my head. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“We’ll need to take our seats soon. But you still have a few minutes,” she says, before leaving me alone with my thoughts.
After a short time, I’ve had enough of the room and the wealth and power it represents. I take out my iPad and go back into the main cabin, making myself comfortable in one of the recliners near a window. While I’m configuring my tablet for Wi-Fi, Gray joins me.
“There’s been a change in plans,” he announces, taking the seat across from me. The plane is taxiing, so the change must not involve aborting the trip.
Gray’s agitated, tapping his fingers on the armrest, looking as though he appreciates last-minute changes less than I do. And I despise them.
“What kind of change?”
“We’re meeting Prince Ahmad on his boat rather than at the palace.”
There was an entire section of a briefing book dedicated to The Great Escape, the crown prince’s yacht. Gray thought there was a possibility that at some point during the visit, the prince would decide he needed more privacy than the palace allows, and we would all spend a night or two on the floating fuck toy.
“Will Princess Saher be there?” I ask, with some trepidation. If she’s not there, everything we’ve prepared for is out the window.
“I highly doubt it.”
My heart drops into my stomach as soon as the words are out of his mouth. “Why—what do you think happened?”
Gray glances at me. “Trippi thinks the prince might want to lay eyes on you before he welcomes us to the palace.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t like it. We’re more vulnerable out on the Mediterranean. But I think it’s the most likely explanation.”
“Why the last-minute change of heart? He must have had concerns about me all along.” And if he didn’t, certainly his security had them.
Gray nods, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Gives us less time to regroup. It’s exactly what I would have done.” He reaches over and squeezes my knee. “This changes nothing. He’ll meet you, spend a little time chatting you up—he’s good for that—and we’ll be on our way to the palace before you know it.”
“What if it’s not okay? What if after meeting me, he decides I haven’t changed my stripes? What if we’re walking into an ambush? Maybe I can board the boat alone, and you and the rest of the team can go on to the palace.” All those faces on the cards. This is too important. And I certainly don’t want anyone in danger because of me.
He scoffs. “You’re not going anywhere alone with that asshole. Not while I’m still breathing.”
“Did the crew file a new flight plan?”
“Same plan. We’ll be boarding a helicopter at the airport.”
I have fifteen hours to regroup. No sweat. Then why is my stomach hurting like a sonofabitch?
“I need to work for a few hours, but you should take it easy. The Great Escape is luxurious, but you’ll be working and it won’t be very relaxing. Try to stay awake. We’ll sleep later. That way, we can begin to adjust to the time change. I have a sedative if you need it.”
I stare at the window. A last-minute change is a bad way to begin a mission.
“Delilah, I have every confidence in you. When I told Ahmad I was bringing you with me, I didn’t give him an opportunity to say no.”
“Does he normally allow you to bring guests?”
He shrugs. “It’s never come up. I always go alone. That’s why this relationship,” he gestures between us, “has to be convincing. I don’t think that’s going to be an issue,” he says, his eyes darkening. “It’s going to be fine.”
“I know.” Although I don’t know. “I just need a little time to wrap my head around the change. Let me comb through it a bit.”
Gray unbuckles his seat belt. “I’m going up front, because if I stay here any longer, I’m going to initiate you into the mile-high club—unless you’re already a member.”
“I don’t belong to any clubs. Certainly not that one.”
He smirks, and his eyes twinkle with mischief. “I brought the Lush vibrator along. It’s the perfect size for travel. Can I interest you in a little fun and games?”
I could use a big, fat orgasm right about now. The kind that makes my legs shake. “I’m good. Neither of us will accomplish anything if you pull that thing out.”
“You can have your way now, because I have things to do, but when I’m finished…” He leans over, his lips hovering just above my ear. “You. Are. Mine.”
I glance up at him, and smile flirtatiously. “Then you best get a move on.”
Gray tugs my hair back, and moves in for a kiss. But when his mouth reaches mine, he grabs my bottom lip between his teeth, holding it securely for several seconds before releasing it. He places a small kiss on the bridge of my nose and strides off, leaving my heart racing.
Once he’s gone, I push the seat back a bit and put on my headphones to listen to an audio book. Dobbins brings me a Blanton’s, which I savor slowly while listening to the narrator’s sexy baritone, until the story is over.
Don’t ask me about the book, I’m sure it was fascinating, but I’ve been ogling Gray from afar for the past two hours, and truly, he’s a far more interesting character than any author could conjure.
He’s abandoned the laptop and is sitting back, studying the clouds. I suppose he has a lot on his mind too. Everyone prepares differently.
Although I don’t pretend to know every detail, he put a lot of time and energy into this mission—including thoroughly preparing me for the trip. Some of it’s about his need for control, but the rest—the rest was about making it as easy on me as possible.
There are many things that could go wrong, dreadfully wrong. But if they do, I’ll die doing something I dreamed about since I was a teenager. But what about Gray? Is this the end of a decade’s worth of work? After this, can he still pretend to be the prince’s friend, or is that over? And what if the mission takes him down? That’s my worst nightmare. It’s been nagging since Gray told me to call Smith if something happens to him.
I tip my head from side to side, to stretch the tight muscles. But I can’t stop thinking about one of us dying.
Nothing prepares us for when the door closes suddenly. Nothing. All the words left unsaid—the opportunities to make things right. That all evaporates with the last breath.
Gray turns around and catches my eye, giving me one of those lazy half-smiles that makes me melt.
He’s stopped asking about Archbishop Darden. But I want to tell him. I want him to know that I’m not a cold-blooded killer—that I wouldn’t kill a man without an excellent reason. I’m not some crazy, out-of-control chick. I’ve wanted to tell him for almost a week, but the time never seemed right.
I remove the headphones, setting them on the table beside me, and fuss with my hair, finger-combing the flat strands. I don’t want this to go unsaid for another minute. And I don’t want to lose my chance to make it right.
31
Delilah
When I reach Gray, I take the seat across the t
able from him, tucking my legs up under me. “You busy?”
“Mostly banging my head against the wall. You need something?”
“Company, I guess.”
He watches me like he always does. Not so much to figure out what I’m thinking, although he sometimes does that too, but to give me time to right my emotions, and to square them with my thoughts. I burn hot inside. Everything moves lightning-fast. I often need extra time to shape my reflections into words fit for civilized discussion.
Gray understands this idiosyncrasy—in a way that no one has ever bothered to before.
But it doesn’t matter how much time he gives me today, because the words, like the reality they describe, are inelegant, with rough, jagged edges. And time won’t change any of it.
“I grew up differently than you,” I blurt gracelessly.
“Is that right?” he drawls, one corner of his mouth tipping up. “Tell me about it.”
“My mama wasn’t like yours.”
Clouds descend over his brilliant blue eyes. Not the white puffy cotton ball ones, like those outside the window, but stormy ones, bleak and hopeless. Gray never talks about his mother, and I probably shouldn’t have brought her up.
“The Marshalls lived across the street,” I continue, hoping that my sad story will make him forget about his—at least for a few minutes. “They had a son, Richard, who was born after they had given up all hope of a baby. Mrs. Marshall stayed home to take care of him, and out of the goodness of her heart, she took care of me too.” I glance at him and the clouds are gone, but they’re likely to return because this isn’t the retelling of a fairy tale. “She patiently combed knots out of my hair and taught me how to bake a flaky biscuit and fry catfish without stinkin’ up the house—” I smile sheepishly. “That part didn’t work out so well.”
“It worked out just fine,” he murmurs. It’s soft and gentle. He’s careful not to spook me, so that I don’t stop talking.
