“No, we weren’t conducting ops on mainland soil. They’re on their way to a wedding. However, they’ve been apprised of the situation. They’ll be monitoring the passengers until you get your team into place. Fine. I’ll be flying up myself. Yeah, sure, you do that. It’s spelled M-a-c-K-e-n-z-i-e—make sure you get the spelling right.” Without saying goodbye, he slammed the phone down.
Chastain had to be fucking kidding. Could the prick really be so stupid he’d blow off fresh intel from a black op? Christ Almighty, he’d run into arrogance and territorialism before, but this guy took the prize, and considering the jackass headed up the Seattle’s counterterrorism unit, they were in a shit-can of trouble.
The door to the office opened as he pushed his chair back and stood up. “Get me Admiral McKay.”
“Of course, Commander. I’ve taken the liberty of booking you on the first flight out. It leaves in two hours.”
Of course he had. No doubt he’d known a trip to Seattle was in Mac’s future before Mac had. He didn’t bother to tell the man to cancel his appointments and reschedule. Knowing Radar, he’d already done so.
As he waited for the call to ring through, his thoughts returned to Zane. What the hell had Winters gotten himself into? He might not know what his LC had lied about, but he knew the lie was there. There was something else he was certain of. Somehow, in some way, this lie involved a woman. When it came to solid by-the-book operators like Zane Winters, only a woman could trip them up and send them reeling into the gray zone where lying became an option. Only a fucking woman could turn them inside out and upside down and put them through the wringer until they lost all sense of who they were and what they stood for. Until they were bled dry of their honor and self-respect.
When you added in Zane’s family history and all that crap about soul mates—well hell, the man had a weak spot a mile long. No doubt some conniving bitch was playing up that soul mate bullshit and wrapping his buddy around her finger.
Because only a woman could ruin a man like Zane Winters.
* * *
Beth described her dream several more times before Zane was satisfied. At which point he kicked her and his two friends out of the storage closet. She suspected the bid for privacy was meant to protect his friends from the lie, as she was beginning to think of it.
The deceit still bothered her. If they’d had more time, she would never have allowed him to take that step, but their window of opportunity was shrinking. Besides, his story would be believed more quickly than hers, which was essential with only an hour left until boarding.
“Why don’t you tell us about your co-workers?” Cosky’s flat tone turned the question into an order. He braced his shoulder against the wall beside the closet door and turned so he could keep an eye on the airport’s main corridor.
“You mean do I work with anyone capable of cold-bloodedly murdering hundreds of people?” Beth asked drily, knowing where this line of questioning was headed. “Why are you jumping to the conclusion that their inside guy is in engineering? It makes more sense to recruit one of the bag smashers or techs.”
“Do you know the baggage handlers or techs?” Cosky asked, his chilly gaze studying her face.
“Well, no.” Like any big corporation, PAL’s departments were pretty insular. She knew everyone who worked on her floor, and a few people who worked on the floors above and below, but nobody who worked out in the hangars.
“But you do know your engineers, so we’ll start with them. Is there anyone who comes to mind as being capable of this?”
Sure there were people she didn’t care for. Every job had them. Her co-worker from hell, the tech writer in the cubicle beside her, sprang to mind. He talked incessantly, took overly long lunches and breaks, and told the same stupid joke over and over again. But his transgressions were a far cry from something this inhumane.
For the most part, the engineers in her department were complete geeks walking around in a daze. She tried to imagine Todd hiding the guns, and bit back a laugh. Knowing Todd, he’d get distracted by some equation in his head and sit down to work it out. The guns would still be there, beside him, in plain view, when the flight crew arrived.
“Nobody I work with could possibly be in on this,” Beth said. “It’s not like any of them live on the fringe. We’re a department of boring nine-to-fivers, with families and mortgages and car payments.”
“You’re making assumptions.” His steel gaze met hers before shifting back out to the corridor where an elderly couple had appeared.
The fact he studied the couple as they slowly walked past, arm-in-arm, told Beth how serious he was. The pair had to be in their seventies.
“The hijackers are male, mid-to-late thirties,” she reminded him pointedly.
Cosky turned his head and stared at her, his gray eyes hooded. “They’re on our flight. They were waiting at the departure gate, yet they’ve left … why?” He turned his attention back to the corridor. “It’s a mistake to assume innocence based on gender or age.”
Ouch. As if that jab hadn’t been directed at her, which didn’t surprise her. Of the three men, Simcosky was the coldest. The hardest. The most intimidating. Zane radiated calm, Rawlings good-natured charm, but this one exuded ice.
Although she’d deny it to her last breath, when it came to the two men, she much preferred Zane’s calm over Simcosky’s chill. Spending too much time with Zane’s friend was likely to give her a bad case of frostbite.
“You were telling us about your co-workers,” Cosky prompted.
She hadn’t been, but she could take a hint. “Trust me. You’re barking up the wrong tree. The accomplice can’t be in my department. The only people with access to the tarmac or the planes are the engineers, and the planes are their babies. They take it personally anytime anything happens to one of them. There is no way one of my guys would be involved in something that could damage or destroy one of their precious planes.”
The closet door opened on the last sentence.
Zane stopped in the middle of the doorjamb and turned those green eyes on Beth. They were dark as a pine bough now. Flat. Not a glitter or gleam in sight. “You’re wearing blinders, making assumptions. You can’t afford either. They leave you vulnerable.”
Beth caught the quick glance that passed between his two friends. So did Zane.
“You two have a problem?” he asked, his voice as inflexible as his face. His expressionless gaze shifted between the two men across from him. They simply stared back, their faces unapologetic.
Lovely. This ugly little stare-down was all about her.
“What did your boss say?” Beth asked, breaking into the macho posturing since neither of his friends seemed willing to break the silence.
“His boss is the Navy,” Rawlings pointed out.
Beth rolled her eyes. “Excuse me, your superior officer.”
“Mac’s contacting the FBI. There should be movement on that plane within fifteen minutes. We need to head back to the departure gate. Make sure your hijackers don’t decide to abandon ship.”
She was too relieved to protest the your hijackers comment. “So he believed you?”
“Yeah.” A shadow slipped through his eyes.
It was the lying, Beth realized. He hated the lying. He’d done it, because he had this odd need to protect her, but he’d hated having to lie. Which she could appreciate. A woman would always know where she stood with such a man. She might not always like what he had to say, but she could trust it was the truth.
“When we get back to the terminal, you’ll have to point these assholes out. There will be plenty of men who fit your descriptions.” Zane stepped up and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “From here on out, we’re going to be lovers.”
His eyes had lightened and started to glitter, so Beth knew the phrasing had been deliberate. Not we’re going to pretend to be lovers, but we are going to be lovers. A declaration of intent.
She, however, had as much to say about that development
as he did. “We’re going to pretend to be lovers.”
From the gleam shimmering in those emerald eyes, he’d understood her gauntlet as easily as she had understood his.
Rawlings started whistling and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, his posture screaming I am so not getting into this. Beth flushed, abruptly realizing where they were having this contest of wills. Such intimacies should be discussed in private. He might be used to broadcasting the intimate details of his life for the entertainment of his friends, but she had no intention of falling into that appalling habit.
“So how am I supposed to point the hijackers out without them noticing?”
“Stop walking, turn your back to them and tug my head down like you’re going to kiss me. But at the last moment turn your head slightly, brush your cheek against mine and whisper where they are in my ear. If they’re watching, they won’t be able to see exactly what you’re doing or saying.”
She nodded her understanding, but Zane’s eyes darkened again, something edgy and raw drifting across the hard planes of his face.
“I don’t like this,” he told her, his voice tight, “but there’s no other choice. You’re the only one who can point them out. Besides, you need to be waiting at the departure gate with us. It’s the only way the feds will buy this story we’ve concocted.”
He was worried about her, Beth realized, warmth spreading through her chest.
“Which reminds me,” he added as they started walking toward the main corridor. “You need to call your supervisor and ask for the week off.”
Beth scowled. There went the last of her vacation days. Then it occurred to her the little weasel was going to want to know why she needed the week off on such short notice. He was bound to find out she’d listed herself on standby for this flight to Hawaii. Supervisors received reports on who flew where and when. If she wanted to keep her job—which she did—it would be best to admit she’d listed for the flight. Of course, he would want to know why… God. She’d have to tell him about Zane, tell him the same lie they planned to feed the FBI.
Her face heated as she pictured his reaction. The little rodent would tell everyone, and such juicy gossip would spread like wildfire. By the time she got back, everyone would think she’d hopped on a plane to indulge in a week of torrid sex with a man she barely knew. And she couldn’t even tell her supervisor she’d been dating Zane a couple of months because the FBI would be checking with him. The last thing they needed was a discrepancy in their stories.
Oh, Lord, she could just imagine the jokes and sexual innuendos that would be flying around behind her back. Embarrassment squirmed through her. Maybe once news of the hijacking attempt leaked out, her supposed affair would drop off the gossip mill. She didn’t count on it though. On a scale of one to ten, she was pretty sure that sex trumped hijacking by at least a couple of points.
“What’s the matter?” Zane murmured, brushing her cheek with his fingertips. “You’re face is turning red.”
For the first time Beth realized they’d stopped moving. She’d been so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t even noticed they’d reached gate C-18.
“Nothing.” She stood frozen beneath the caress and tried to ignore how the light brush of his fingers against her skin jolted her heart into overdrive.
“You up for this?” he asked, cupping her cheek, the strength of his hand belied by his gentle grasp.
She took a deep breath, which turned out to be a big mistake because she inhaled the erotic combination of scents she associated with Zane—clean, fresh soap and smoky male musk. The double whammy had the same effect on her heart as his touch. The damn thing went into jackrabbit mode.
“I’m fine.” Which might of sounded convincing if it hadn’t come out so breathless.
From the glint brightening those green eyes, he knew exactly what he was doing to her. He bent his head to nuzzle the side of her neck. The pulse of his breath against her ear sent a shower of sparks down her spine. Her nipples tightened.
“When you see them, squeeze my hand.” Before straightening, he caught her earlobe with his teeth and tugged, then drew it into his mouth for a quick suckle.
The erotic, wet suction only lasted a second or three, but it was enough to steal every milliliter of air from her lungs and zap all her erogenous zones to life. Holy Mother of God, there were places suddenly tingling she hadn’t known existed. She sucked in a raw, startled breath and heard his low, raspy laugh.
That sneak attack hadn’t been about making them look like lovers. Oh no, that erotic caress was his way of telling her they would be lovers.
She wished, oh how she wished, she could tell him he was wrong, but it was a little hard to deny that silent claim when her body was aching, her legs were quivering, and the flesh between her thighs had swelled with damp heat.
Was this how her mother had felt? Her skin so sensitive it burned? Her nerves rioting? Had she succumbed to the fire even as her common sense screamed a warning?
The questions chilled the hunger. She knew better than to indulge in the flames. Knew firsthand the damage of such indulgences. She’d watched her mother slog through the aftermath day after day.
Still, remnants of that unwelcome heat persisted as Zane escorted her into Gate C18’s waiting area and the teeming, chattering hordes of people. The laughter and drone of voices verged on deafening.
Slowly, worry pushed aside the hunger.
What if she was wrong? What if there were no guns?
She tensed as she scanned the terminal for the hijackers. Panic flared. Even if they existed, how in the world was she going to locate the killers in this swarm of humanity? Seconds later the question became moot as a cluster of college-aged men headed for the left wall and a gap opened in the crowed terminal. Her gaze shot through and fell on the three men standing in the far corner. She recognized them instantly.
Before she could squeeze Zane’s hand, the tallest of the three—the one with the cell phone plugged to his right ear—turned his head and stared straight at her. Even across the room she could see the viciousness in his intense gaze. The furious knowledge on his lean, aristocratic face.
He knew. Somehow he knew that they knew.
How was that possible?
Panic crested, a white-hot pulse through her chest. Her muscles locked and trembled.
She forced her gaze away and squeezed Zane’s hand—hard. Maybe she’d imagined the exchange.
“Son of a fucking bitch,” Zane’s growl was so low Beth barely heard it.
Clearly, she hadn’t imagined that vicious glance. Zane had caught it too.
“We’ve been made,” he continued, a note of urgency beneath the calm. “Move. They’re about to break.”
“Where are the other three?” Rawls asked. He turned to Beth, his face tense, blue eyes burning with intensity. “Do you see the rest of their crew?”
Beth cast a frantic look around the terminal, but there were so many people. Clusters of people. “I don’t see them. But they could be sitting down, hidden from view.”
“They’re splitting up,” Cosky said, his voice flat. “I’m going left.” With that he disappeared into the crowd.
Beth shot a glance toward the corner, but the three men from her dream had vanished.
“Rawls? Go right,” Zane snapped. “Beth? Don’t move an inch. Do you hear me? Not an inch. Scream bloody murder if anyone so much as talks to you.” Without glancing in her direction he slipped through the crowd.
She watched him go, mesmerized by his fluid, lethal grace.
“Due to a mechanical issue, Flight 2077, Seattle to Honolulu, has been delayed.”
The announcement came over the loudspeaker as a hand clamped over Beth’s shoulder.
Chapter Five
By the time Zane Winters and his entourage returned, Russ’s crew had arrived. He’d considered instructing his men to avoid C18 until the plane started boarding but decided against it. He needed to know whether the operation had been compromise
d. So he’d split his team—sending three to the gate, and telling them to hang back, but out of sight. The other three he’d ordered to wait at surrounding areas.
If the flight boarded without a hitch, his remaining crew was close enough to arrive at the ticket counter in time for boarding. However, if something had triggered Winters’ suspicion, and this operation was compromised, he had backup reserves in place.
The passengers needed to be acquired one way or another. Anything less would bring consequences that Russ had no intention of facing.
With his laptop open on his knees, Russ angled his body on the bench so he had a good view of the airport corridor and the gate next door.
This time, when Zane Winters approached C18, he had his arm around Beth Brown’s shoulders. He loomed over her, his body language both protective and territorial. They were playing the lovers card to the hilt.
Or at least he was.
But how much of the behavior was for show? The guy’s stance screamed mine, back off. Maybe he really had latched onto her.
The woman though… Russ shifted on his bench, punched a few random numbers into his laptop’s keypad and studied her stiff body… she was throwing off more conflicted signals. Not such a good actress, that one. Or perhaps she was uncomfortable with public displays of sexuality.
Aware that eyes were on him, Russ glanced up. His young friend on the bench across from him met his smile with solemnity. Which was a crime. A child so young should be full of giggles and laughter. His gaze shifted to her uninterested mother. Someone needed to put a bullet through that lazy cow’s brain. They’d be doing the kid a favor, freeing her from such a joyless childhood. If not for the timing, he’d take on the task himself. Pro bono. Unfortunately, he couldn’t afford the distraction.
With a sigh, he turned back to his targets. Simcosky and Rawlings had joined Winters. All three men and the woman were slowly winding their way through Gate C18, their heads swinging from side to side, eyes scanning.
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