by Leslie North
He gave her a quizzical look and touched her cheek. “You’ll do fine.” He stepped to the back to talk with Slade.
Chloe tried to get herself comfortable. She slipped off her sandals and pulled her feet onto the seat. She wrapped her arms around her legs. She’d taken Trent’s advice and had dressed for comfort—sweats and a T-shirt. She was more than a bit nervous.
She gazed out the small window, and squeezed her legs tight when the cabin door closed and the plane began to move. She paced her breathing, counting slowly to four as she breathed in and then counting just as slowly as she breathed out. People flew everyday—this was no worse than bouncing along in the back of a pickup over gravel roads.
She kept up her silent self-talk, even when the plane stopped. She glanced out the window. It seemed like there was a lot of pavement in front of them.
Someone—the pilot maybe—asked everyone to be seated. They were ready to hurtle themselves up into the air and hope for the best. Oh, heavens. She pressed her hand to her stomach. Maybe she should have stayed in San Diego. The ocean was looking pretty good, and working for a bunch of crooks seemed like a walk in the park. She looked out the window again, but when the plane began to move once again, she tucked her head against her raised knees, closed her eyes, and concentrated on her breathing.
She wished now that she’d told Trent how nervous she was and asked for him to sit and hold her hand. The plane left the ground, bounced once, and her stomach dropped.
Trent plopped into the seat next to her. He covered her hand with his. “Nice take-off.”
“Nice?” She squeaked out the word.
He put his arm around her. “Hey! You didn’t tell me you were afraid to fly.”
“I’m not. I’m afraid of falling out of the sky.”
He smiled. “That’s not happening. We have parachutes on board.”
She swallowed. The plane banked sharply to the left, and she wrapped her arms around Trent. “I’m not jumping out of any plane.”
He used the fingers of his closest hand to lift her chin. “We’re not going to need to jump. You’re going to be just fine. Look—don’t you want to see the sights? We’ll be flying over the Grand Canyon, and most of Kansas, and the Atlantic Ocean. You won’t believe how beautiful the sunrise is from thirty-thousand feet. And we’ll refuel in New York and I’ll get you a New York pizza. Now, how about some champagne? We should be at our cruising altitude in a few minutes. Things will smooth out then.”
The plane hit something that sent a tremor throughout the small craft and a drop in altitude that had her stomach dropping. She grabbed for Trent.
“You okay, Chloe?” Slade asked from behind them.
“Just nerves.”
She heard movement, and Slade came over to them, a glass of something in his hand, which held a dark amber liquid. “I’m not much of a drinker, Chloe, but I share your sentiments about flying. I hate it. My stomach wants to jump out of my throat, I’m never really sure the plane will stay in the air, and I always have the impulse to kiss the ground after we land. I recommend good whiskey. It makes flying tolerable.”
Chloe took the drink and downed it. Fire slid down her throat and burst into a conflagration in her stomach. Trent stared at her. She handed the glass back to Slade. “What, you think a Wyoming girl doesn’t know how to drink? My daddy may have abused that gift, but I’m not about to turn down a medicinal tot if I need one. Can I have some more?”
Slade smiled. “You have fine taste in whiskey.” He poured her another glass, brought one for himself, and sat opposite her. “Trent tells me you’ve agreed to a trial run working for Slade Security.”
She glanced at Trent. “That’s not decided yet.”
“Really? Then can I ask a favor of you? When we reach Jawhara, I could use your assistance in looking at the videotapes from the airport. I need someone who knows the members and associates of Guardians of the Earth. This is important, so could you help?”
He made it sound vital—made it sound as if he couldn’t do this without her, but she suspected he could. She found herself nodding and telling him she’d try. The warmth from the whiskey spread through her. She almost wanted a third glass, but she knew her limits.
Slade smiled. “All I ask is for a good effort. I would like you to have Trent, or someone from security, with you at all times.”
Chloe sat up. “You want me watched? You think I’m working with the Guardians and terrorists?”
Trent tightened his hold on her hand. “The other way around. If the wrong person from Guardians sees you, that could be trouble—for you. It’s for your safety.”
She frowned. “I don’t imagine I’ll feel comfortable going anywhere on my own. How long are we going to be in Jawhara?”
Slade leaned back in his seat. “A few days. As soon as we identify the players involved in the threat, Talib and his security team will take over. We’re also tracing the money trail.”
She blinked. “Money?”
Slade smiled. “Trent’s idea. He arranged for a donation to the Guardians. We suspect most of that will go into off-shore accounts in the Caymans. From there, we’ll be able to trace who else has been buying the eco-terrorism of the Guardians to use it as corporate sabotage.”
She pushed out a breath. “I still can’t believe they’ve been doing this.”
Slade lifted a hand, and Trent shrugged and said, “Once we clean out the problem in the Guardians, they may be able to go back to doing good; but if we can’t do this quietly, the press will kill them. Non-profits who’ve had directors lining their own pockets tend to lose all of their donations pretty quickly.”
Chloe’s stomach knotted. “I never meant…I didn’t think this would kill the organization. Can’t you do something? They’re doing good.”
Slade stood. “Let’s see how it plays out and then we’ll look at what’s worth salvaging.” He walked away, but Chloe couldn’t help thinking that was a hard attitude to take. Did she really want to work for a man who seemed so callous?
***
Trent watched Chloe sleep. She’d curled up in her seat and now looked like a seasoned traveler. He’d never been able to sleep on a plane, so he watched her and thought about the work ahead.
He had been asked by Meyers to contact Mr. Al Shabib in Jawhara. That guy was supposed to show Trent the devastation that the Jawharan officials were keeping from the world’s knowledge. Meyers had asked Trent to take photos and get them out of the country. Meyers had also given Trent a bag to take with him. It looked as if it carried nothing but posters and brochures on Guardians of the Earth. It took three hours to find the false bottom and the C4 that Trent would be carrying into Jawhara.
Travis had swapped the C4 for clay that looked almost like the real thing. It would be interesting to see who picked up the bag in Jawhara.
That was where Talib and his security forces would come into play. They’d be ready to grab whoever came for the bag. Now the only thing left was to see if Anna Neills was in on this with Myers. If all went well, Talib would pick up the point man on the ground in Jawhara, the FBI would come down on Myers and whoever was working with him, and following the money would lead to whoever had hired the Guardians.
If things went right.
The big question mark. Trent could see a dozen things that could go wrong. No one might come to pick up the bag. The contact might escape. The money might lead to a dead end. Chloe might get hurt.
That last one had him wide awake and trying to make sure he’d covered all possible problems.
A light flashed on the large television screen mounted on the far wall of the plane. Trent swapped a look with Slade, and Slade picked up a remote and activated the power switch. Talib’s face filled the screen a few moments later.
Slade kept his voice low and even. “Talib? What’s up?”
“I wish to tell you that His Royal Highness and his wife, his brother Khalil, and his wife have all left for their island retreat in the Mediterranean. The m
edia was, at the time, busy touring new refugee camps for those coming into Jawhara to escape unrest in our neighboring countries. As far as the world is concerned, His Royal Highness and his family are all still ensconced in the palace.”
Trent leaned forward. “Who’s heading up their security detail?”
“Brock and Keira. I asked PJ to accompany them, but she refused to leave, saying her absence as well would be most suspicious. I was forced to agree with her. Brock and Keira, however, look as if they are on holiday—they are seen as a couple who has little to do but amuse their whims.” Talib grinned.
Trent did as well. Brock had come out of the SEAL’s, too, and was one of the most deadly people Trent knew. Brock had come across Keira, had recruited her, and she was smart, fast, and clever. Those two wouldn’t let a little thing like falling in love interfere with the job of protecting the royal family of Jawhara.
But Slade was frowning. “What do we know about the flights scheduled to come into the country?”
Talib glanced down as if checking a paper he had. “There is a private plane requesting permission to land an hour after your plane. The itinerary shows a consulting expert in new drilling technology, but I know for a fact that gentleman has not left Dallas. His wife found him unconscious in their garage earlier this morning and he is currently recovering in a private room at a local hospital.”
“Why wasn’t I informed about this earlier?” Slade asked.
Talib looked grim. “I just got the report myself. There is more, but do you wish to hear it now or when you land?”
Slade swapped stares with Trent—and Trent glanced at Chloe. What had he gotten her into? He looked at Slade and nodded. They might as well know everything now. He had a feeling it was only going to get worse from here on out.
Chapter 18
“Tell me,” Slade said.
“The private plane that was supposed to bring the consultant here took off as planned. It also made a stop in San Diego last night before heading to Dallas.”
A small voice next to Trent asked, “Do you think Mr. Myers is on that plane?”
Trent glanced at her. She’d woken, but she still looked sleep rumpled. He put a hand over hers, and turned back to Slade.
Slade ignored the question. “Talib, be prepared to check the passengers and the cargo on that plane. They may expect Trent to fail—or maybe they set him up as a decoy. They haven’t been successful in bringing major explosives in before this, so let’s keep it that way.”
“My personnel have instructed the employees on how to act. Do we know who is behind this attack?”
Chloe tugged on Trent’s sleeve and asked in a whisper, “I thought the Guardians were behind these attacks?”
Trent shook his head. “No, they’re just the hired help. We’re expecting extremists in Bashiria to turn up as the guys paying the bills.”
“What then?” Chloe asked.
“We’ll let the sheikh know, see what actions he wants to take. And let a few folks in Bashiria know, so they can take out their own trash. If they don’t, well, two can play at these kinds of games, and if they know they’re exposed, they’re going to be too busy covering their tracks to make trouble.” He smiled. “No one likes to lose aid from Uncle Sam due to being put on the terrorist country list.”
Talib ended his video call. Trent glanced from Chloe to Slade—Slade was looking grim, and Chloe still had that rumpled, sleepy look. She was waking up fast. Slade stood. “You two should try to get some sleep. I imagine Kam will be calling shortly. We’ll work out a strategy to make sure whoever is behind this gets what’s coming to them.”
Trent stood. He took Chloe’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Get me if anything changes.” He led her to the rear of the plane.
“Where are we going?” she asked. They passed a small galley and the bathroom.
He opened the door at the end of the hallway and gestured for her to enter. She did, stopped, and gasped. He’d been expecting that. He was pretty sure she hadn’t expected the bed complete with canopy and drapes. The room looked like a sheikh’s tent, which wasn’t surprising, given that this had been a gift from a grateful Kamal for services rendered to him, his family, and his country.
Chloe stepped in and touched a velvet drape. “Wow!”
“Pretty cool, huh?” Trent stepped in and closed the door behind him.
She turned to him. “I didn’t even know things like this existed.”
“The plane used to be Sheikh Kamal’s. Slade’s was nice, but this one’s over-the-top; but that’s the way they do things in Jawhara. Kam gave this to Slade to use.”
“Better than flying coach.”
Trent laughed. “Get comfortable and I’ll go grab us a snack. Slade was right. We need to rest. Landing with jetlag dragging at us isn’t going to help anyone once we arrive.”
“I’m not really tired.” Chloe tried to smother a yawn. “Well, I wasn’t tired.”
“Power of suggestion. I have a few more I’d like to make, but those will have to wait. Be right back.”
***
Chloe eyed the huge bed. She yawned again. She was still tired. She had no idea if her body’s clock was telling her it was night, or if it really was night, but she was exhausted. She slipped out of her clothes and crawled into the bed, sinking into the mattress and comforter. She hadn’t gotten much sleep lately—having Trent in her bed had definitely kept her awake at night.
She closed her eyes and tried to forget that she was on a plane. It was impossible. The engines rumbled, the plane dipped and rocked. It was amazingly smooth, but she wanted to be on the ground again. She could sympathize with Slade’s urge to kiss the ground.
She heard the door click open and shut. She pried opened her eyes. Trent was staring at her.
“What?”
He smiled. “Now that is a sight I will always remember. You look ready to be ravished by some desert prince, all right.” Hands full, he still held up a finger. “Don’t you be getting any ideas about getting swept off by some guy on an Arabian stallion.”
She grinned. “You think that kind of guy has a chance with me?”
“No, I think you’ll be thinking he has a great horse you’d like to ride.” He waved at her. She scooted up and settled her back against the headboard. He set down two cans of ginger ale, and something in a paper bag that smelled good. “This’ll keep you hydrated and settle your stomach.”
She took the can of soda. “That, thankfully, is not the problem. Sorry about earlier.”
“Don’t be. When we get ready to land, I’ll be sure to distract you.”
Land? Chloe felt the color drain from her face as a new fear took up residence in her mind, “Uhm…I…”
Trent sat down on the bed and pulled her onto his lap, “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Don’t worry. That’s hours away. Right now, we need to catch a few hours of sleep.”
Chloe chewed her lower lip and asked, “Don’t most planes crash on landing?”
He clasped her head between his hands and brought her mouth to his. He peppered kisses across her mouth, her nose, and her jaw line. When he reached the sensitive spot behind her ear, he pulled back. “I told you I would distract you.”
She kissed him and leaned back. “Promise?”
He kissed her one last time and pulled away, “Are you hungry at all?”
She licked her lips. “Getting there.” She hid another yawn behind her hand.
He tucked himself in next to her. “Get some sleep. We’ll do something about that hunger later.”
Chloe scooted down on the bed, rolled onto her side, and settled in his arms. “Trent, what’s going to happen?”
“Don’t know. That’s part of the fun. With any luck, Talib and the Jawharan security forces will intercept whoever is on that plane. If they’re smart, they’ll give up their backers and give Kam a hard target to go after.”
She yawned again. “What about when we go back home?”
He kissed her foreh
ead. “Surfing. We’ll carpool to work and you can take me to visit your dad.” He leaned over her. “Anything else bothering you?”
“Oh, just life in general. I feel like I’m on a runaway train and I can’t get off. I guess I’m just scared.”
“Were you scared when you set out for California?”
“Oh, you bet. Like a jack rabbit caught in headlights.”
“What was your back-up plan?”
Chloe turned in his arms. “I didn’t have one. I never have one. I didn’t even know what that was until I met you.”
“Okay, on the job lesson one. You always have a back-up plan. Always. Working for Slade is going to be awesome, but if you hate it, we’ll find something else. We do have horses, you know, in the San Diego area.”
“We? Things have moved quickly between us, but..I’m not sure I want a back-up plan for that.” Chloe looked at him. “I want this to work—I want us to work, Trent.”
He kissed her, long and deep, and he asked, “What other dreams are in that pretty head of yours? White picket fences, two kids and a dog? Oh, and a couple of horses and twenty acres?”
“Too small a spread. You need a couple hundred at least. A few sections is better. Cows. Maybe raise buffalo. I’ve always wanted to raise buffalo.”
Trent laughed. “My buffalo gal. The dog sounds fun. But we need a beach. I get cranky when I’m away from water for too long.”
She cupped his face with her hand. “Why haven’t you gone looking for that before now?”
“Never found anyone I thought would work with me. That’s not something I’d lie about. The work’s tough, it takes a lot of focus. But I could see…a beach house for us. A little girl with bright red hair chasing a dog down the beach. Maybe a little boy building a sandcastle.”
“Sounds like a fairytale,” she told him and heard the sleep thick in her voice.
He kissed her forehead. “Yeah, it does. But not for us. For us, we’re going to make this happen. I’m going to keep you safe…forever.”
She pulled open her eyes. He sounded so serious about that. “Forever, Trent? Not just a week or a month or a year? That’s a long time to talk about.”
