“Just something my big brother used to say,” he answered easily. “He always believed you should do your homework thoroughly before you took action.”
Brown Shirt frowned. Josh could almost feel him searching for the possible insult. Yet as far as he knew, it couldn’t be, because the mechanic had no idea what was going on. Or so he thought.
“It’s business,” he said before Brown Shirt could decide it meant something nefarious. “Redstone doesn’t know how to repair this plane, I do. Opportunity for me.”
Brown Shirt’s expression cleared. “So you meant his ignorance. Redstone’s.”
“Who else?” Josh said with a smile. It was an effort; he was getting mightily tired of playing this game.
In the meantime, his mind was racing, trying to guess what Draven would do. Obviously, he was going to wait for an opportunity; that came through in the patience comment. The lobster remark meant Sam would be coming in, and while the use of the new mother didn’t please him, he knew, too, that she was one of the best they had, and her looks were a distraction to any man breathing. She stunned most men into immobility for at least a few seconds.
And frankly, he was glad it wasn’t Reeve; the woman had already taken a bullet for him once, and he doubted Zach would appreciate a rerun of that.
Brown Shirt suddenly chirped. All heads turned toward him as he swore and dug a cheap, throwaway-style phone out of his pocket. He flipped it open and pushed a couple of buttons, apparently retrieving a text message.
The string of curses he let out then took even Josh—who’d spent some time in some pretty rough-and-tumble places in his life—aback.
“Nice language,” Tess said, earning her a glare.
“Problem?” Josh asked mildly.
“What was that?” Pinky asked. “Nobody’s got that number but—”
“Shut up!”
Brown Shirt had apparently reached his limit. Too bad, Josh thought, if he’d been a hair slower to shut up his partner, they might know who was behind all this.
The hapless Pinky tried again. “But what—”
“I said shut up,” Brown Shirt roared.
He whirled, and Josh sensed immediately the entire game had shifted. His instincts proved right when the man gestured at them with the distinctively square pistol.
“You two,” he said sharply, “get in the back. You—” he turned on Pinky “—stay at the door and keep them there. I need to think.”
For an instant Josh thought about resisting. He could bring this thing to a halt one way or another right now, and the idea was very tempting. But Pinky was looking suddenly very nervous, and he was too close to Tess, his own pistol now drawn.
Tess was looking at him, waiting for his lead. And he knew suddenly that if he decided to start a pitched battle right here and now, she’d be with him without question. And he couldn’t describe how that made him feel.
“Wait a minute,” he said, ostensibly to Brown Shirt, but he knew Tess would understand. “What’s going on?”
“Just get back there,” Brown Shirt instructed. “Redstone’s orders.”
“Why would he do that?” Josh asked, figuring at least some question was called for; going along too easily would be suspicious.
“We have private Redstone business to discuss,” Brown Shirt said, his voice decisive now, as if he’d decided what tack to take.
“Hey,” Pinky said, “what are you complaining about? We’re going to put you two alone in a room with a bed.”
Tess colored, surprising Josh. Flying was still largely a world of men, and she’d taken much worse than Pinky’s comment and rude leer without turning a hair.
“You think I haven’t seen the way you two look at each other? Electric, man. Not,” he said to Josh, “that I can blame you. I’d like a piece of that hot Latina ass myself.”
Tess said something in Spanish, and while Josh didn’t quite catch it all—something about Pinky’s mother—he was certain the words didn’t match the sweetness of her tone.
Josh allowed it to appear that he’d been distracted from his questions. He’d go along for the moment, as if he believed Brown Shirt, although from any sane point of view it was ridiculous. At the same time he was weighing their options. He couldn’t quite believe that Brown Shirt would expect the unknowing mechanic to simply obey such an order, but whatever that text message had been—from the person behind all this?—it had clearly rattled him.
And now they were going to put him alone in a room with the woman who actually knew what was going on.
Maybe he just didn’t care anymore that the mechanic remain unknowing.
Now there was an unsettling thought to add to the other that had been bothering him all along. Because there was no getting around the one basic, unignorable fact.
No masks.
These guys had let two witnesses see their faces, made no effort to disguise themselves. There was no way that boded well.
Chapter 13
“We wait?” Tess asked softly from the far corner of the stateroom, well away from the door where Pinky hovered. Listening, no doubt, she thought, hoping to hear….
Her mind shied away from that as she watched Josh walk toward the side of the bed that took up a good portion of the stateroom’s footprint.
“Draven’s here,” he answered just as quietly, as if that said it all. As, she supposed, it did.
“Just as well we’re in here,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to be at close range when Brown Shirt finally snaps. Or Pinky drives him over the edge.”
“Interesting pair,” Josh said, already removing the panel that concealed the compartment built into the side frame of the bed Pinky had leered over. Tess knew she’d blushed at his inference, but she’d fought it down, thinking that of course they’d been looking at each other, trying to communicate without betraying anything to their captors.
Within seconds he had the ACP .45 in his hands. The big Colt was the largest caliber of all the secreted weapons; it would tear up the plane, but she knew he’d use it if he had to. He walked back to where Tess was, as far as they could get from the door, and she knew he also suspected Pinky was doing his best to eavesdrop. With anyone else she’d assume the guy wanted to hear what they were saying. With Pinky, she had the nasty feeling he was hoping for something more titillating.
“This room isn’t monitored,” he said, as if simply imparting useful information.
“I know,” she said.
Josh gave her a sideways look. “As many flights as you’ve done that ended up in Redstone weddings, I guess you do.”
“You’d make a heck of a matchmaker,” she said.
He looked disconcerted. “It’s not me. It’s like you’ve always said, if you bring people with the same standards and drive and vision together, it’s bound to happen.”
“And who is it that brings them together?” His mouth quirked wryly, and despite the situation, her voice was light as she spread her hands and said, “I rest my case.”
I only wish it would work for you, she thought, as she always did when the subject came up. It was a measure, she supposed, of how deep her feelings for this man truly were, that she wished he would find happiness, true happiness as he’d had with Elizabeth, with…someone. Even if it wasn’t her.
That if he did she would trudge on full of silly, unrequited love would be a small price to pay to see Josh happy again. Although she didn’t know if she could bear to fly him and whoever the impossibly lucky woman was all over.
An image flashed through her mind—a sweet memory, pure, true, golden, of the day she’d flown on a Hawk jet for the first time.
“You designed this plane?” she’d demanded the moment they’d touched down.
Josh had nodded.
“Yourself. No team, no subcontractors, just you?”
“I had some advice, suggestions. Took some, ignored more. But the credit or the blame is mine.”
“I’ll fly for you until they pull my license when I’m eigh
ty.”
Josh had merely lifted a brow and drawled, “I was hoping for ninety-five.”
“Done,” she’d quipped.
Elizabeth had sealed the bargain with a toast, her laughter genuine and true, her warm brown eyes sparkling as much as the champagne in the glass she’d raised.
“Leftover from the launch,” she had confessed with no visible embarrassment. “We’re not to where we can be profligate. Yet,” she added, with a look that had made her husband grin, giddy with the power of her faith in him.
Funny, Tess thought, it hadn’t bothered her at all to fly Josh and Elizabeth anywhere they wanted to go, even knowing Josh wasn’t flying himself so they could steal some precious time alone together.
But the idea of some new, faceless woman, someone he perhaps had yet to meet, bothered her.
“Tess?”
She snapped back to the present; what a time to be slipping into memories.
“Sorry,” she muttered, still keeping her voice barely above a whisper as he had, in case Pinky hadn’t gotten bored yet.
“You were far away.”
“Only in time,” she said.
“What?”
“Elizabeth.”
That made him go still. After a moment he said, with no small amount of fervency, “She adored you from the moment she met you. She called you the sister she should have been born with.”
“It was mutual.”
“I know.” Something odd flickered in those gray eyes she knew so well. “She’d want us to remember the good times.”
“I was. The day I first flew in a Hawk.”
She saw the memory flash through his mind as if it were a video. “Yes,” he said softly, “a very good time.”
“You know I loved her?” Tess said; it suddenly seemed urgent to be clear.
“And she you. She trusted you with everything.”
Somehow I don’t think that includes you, Tess thought, then tamped down her unruly mind. It had to be the situation; while she wasn’t panicked, there was very clearly danger here. That had to be why her usually disciplined thought process was bucking out of control.
That she’d flown through enemy gunfire and not even blinked was something she couldn’t reconcile with her current state of mind.
She couldn’t take any more of this. Briskly she asked, “What do you suppose the text message was?”
“I don’t know, but it certainly rattled him.”
“And he was already on edge.”
“Smart enough to be.”
“Unlike Pinky,” Tess agreed. “He’s definitely the follower.”
Josh nodded. “But who’s the leader? I’m thinking it’s not Brown Shirt.”
“Almost by definition,” she muttered, and saw a brief smile curve his mouth. “So the brains, such as they are, sent the message?”
“Makes sense. What else would perturb him like that?”
“Another colleague with bad news? Somebody else not doing their part?”
“Possible,” Josh agreed.
“But from his reaction, you think it’s the boss.”
He nodded. And given his track record of reading people in high-power situations, she wasn’t about to doubt his assessment.
“Do you think he knows you’re you?”
He shook his head. “I think Brown Shirt would have been as much embarrassed as angry if that were the case.”
“As well he should be. Not that I’m not thankful, but please,” she muttered. At Josh’s glance, she smiled ruefully. “I know, I’m spoiled.”
“You? Hardly.”
“I mean, by Redstone. I’m used to efficiency, competency, thoroughness and sometimes I forget the rest of the world doesn’t run to our standards.”
The smile he gave her then warmed her. “Thank you.”
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “You know that’s true, you don’t need me to tell you.”
“Yes, I do. Because it means more from you.”
That simply took her breath away all over again. And her rationalization that he meant it only as longtime friend and boss was beginning to get a little threadbare.
She made herself move on. “Now what? He kept my phone.”
“I know. The two-way is still on?”
She nodded. “I locked it in place.”
“Good. If he keeps it on him, Draven will hear everything they say, even if they’re out of range of the webcam mics.”
Tess gave a wry shake of her head. “Draven must love this. Of all the things we planned for, kidnappers who don’t even recognize you wasn’t on the list.”
“You’ve always said I looked like a mountain man when I come back from these treks.”
“You do,” she said. “But more important, you look happy. At least, you usually do. This time not so much, even before you saw those clowns. Odell?”
His mouth twisted. “Yeah, well. Time enough for that grim tale later. Now, we have a problem to deal with.”
“Did I get that right?” she asked, lowering her voice even more, although there was no way Pinky could hear anything lower than a raised voice through the solidly built bulkhead and tightly sealed door. “Draven’s going to wait until he thinks they’re about to snap, and then Sam and…somebody will be coming in?”
“That’s how I interpreted it.”
“So what do we do?” She looked around. “Try and barricade ourselves in here? It’s not like we can climb out a window.”
“Makes me reconsider Draven’s request for an escape hatch,” Josh said dryly. “I said no way at the time because it would affect the integrity of the design.”
“He’s rarely wrong,” Tess said.
“But I’m guessing he’s feeling pretty irritated with himself about now for not anticipating something like this.”
“Who could? I mean, it’s insanely stupid to not study your target inside and out, let alone not even recognize him in mountain-man mode or not.”
“Unless,” Josh said, “they didn’t have time.”
“So you think this was just some kind of impulse thing? They saw the plane, decided the owner had to be worth something?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s somebody else’s plan put together in a big hurry. Either way, it doesn’t change what we have to do.”
“Which is?”
“Prepare the best we can. And then wait.”
She grimaced. And then, unexpectedly, Josh was smiling at her.
“Ah, Tess, waiting has never been your strong suit, has it?”
I’ve been learning, ever since I realized what an idiot I am, she thought. His gaze sharpened, and for an instant she was afraid she’d spoken aloud.
“Tess?”
“You don’t want to know,” she muttered. “Trust me.”
“I do trust you. Implicitly.”
She wasn’t unaware of the honor of that, despite the fact that it wasn’t his trust she wanted. But it was what she had. It was worth more from him than anyone else in the world, and she treasured it.
“So what do we do to prepare? We have the guns, what else can we do?”
“Short of locking ourselves in the head?” She knew the grin was to cheer her.
“Speaking of locks,” she asked, “do you think they even realize this room has a lock on the door, only on this side?”
“Hope not,” Josh said.
“So if somebody tries to break through that door, we’ll know it’s them?”
“I’m assuming John or Sam will simply announce themselves,” he said, that grin flashing again.
“You,” she said with sudden understanding, “are enjoying this.”
“To a certain extent, and except for worrying about you get ting hurt, yes, I am.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
He stopped then, turning to look at her directly. “Sorry. Not possible. For so many reasons.”
That took her aback. “What?”
“You’re one of my oldest and dearest friends. You’re one of the tri
umvirate. You’re my right hand as much as St. John is, sometimes more. You’re Elizabeth’s sister by choice. But most of all, you’re Tess. So obviously, I worry.”
Tess simply stared at him. He’d said all those things at one time or another, but never all at once. And never with that odd sort of emphasis on “you’re Tess.” She told herself to stop reading her wishes into places they didn’t belong or fit.
“Besides,” he added, his voice going even softer, “Elizabeth ordered me to.”
Tess felt an odd combination of chill and heat. “She…what?”
“When…she knew it wouldn’t be long, she told me to always look out for you. I mean, I would have because you’re you, but I promised her.”
The chill was winning. She looked away, looked out through the oval porthole window of the cabin, which was larger than most thanks to another Ian Gamble bit of genius—a plastic polymer that was as strong as the metal around it. It was time, past time, to face the fact she should have accepted long ago, that she would ever and always be connected to Elizabeth in his mind, and therefore as untouchable as if that sisterhood of the heart had been of blood.
“You worry about me simply because Elizabeth asked you to?” she whispered.
“There’s nothing simple about it. You know there’s more to it than just that, Tess. Besides, she said you’d look out for me, too. And you have.”
Tess didn’t know how to feel, let alone how to respond.
“She actually said that?”
He nodded. Then frowned slightly. “And that she trusted us to find our way.”
Tess’s heart gave a funny jump. “Find our way?”
“Without her, I guess,” Josh said, sounding puzzled.
“Or to something?”
Even as she said it Tess was silently lecturing herself about reading anything beyond friendship in a dead woman’s words. However much Elizabeth Redstone might have liked—even loved—her, that didn’t mean she’d meant to hand off her husband to her when she knew her time was running out.
“So,” she said hastily, “we just wait for them to do something?” She was beyond caring that her change of subject was both obvious and embarrassed.
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