* * * *
Kira refused to gawk at the size of the military aircraft with the call sign Air Force One. She had read the stats, but nothing prepared her for the sheer size of the plane. Different sections for press, onboard personnel, the flight deck, and the conference center. Not to mention the surgical suite, the president’s quarters, and so much more.
She made her way to the president’s office, where one of the staff told her Gareth would be. A quick knock on the door awarded her a brisk “Come in.”
“Good morning, sir. Hi, John.” Kira grabbed a seat next to the day guard and sat down.
“Morning, Kira.”
“Good morning, Agent Jackson.”
Gareth barely looked up as he acknowledged her before he continued to survey the pages in front of him. Looks like it would be all business. Pretty much what she thought it would be, since she’d spotted the reporters seated in the press section as she did a quick walk-through.
“You want some coffee, Kira? I know you didn’t get much sleep before you came on board.”
“Thanks, John. I’d rather have a diet cola chased with a glass of juice, if that’s possible. I actually got no sleep.”
“You want any food? They should be serving up something soon. You can place a special order.”
John, built like a bear and over six-foot-four, looked like he could store food in his legs for winter and still be hungry.
“No, I’m fine. Thanks anyway.”
“Okay, I’ll be back.” John eased his frame off the sectional and left.
Kira waited to see if Gareth would say anything now that they were alone. Silence was her only company. After about ten minutes and no John, she decided to break the quiet.
“Mr. President, is there anything I can get you?”
Gareth’s head jerked up, and his gaze targeted Kira’s own. Before he spoke, he looked around as if just noticing they were alone. “Sorry, I was memorizing my speech for this afternoon.”
He gave her a slightly pensive grin. He looked adorable, if that would be an okay adjective to use for the president of a nation.
“No problem. I just wondered if you needed anything.”
His gaze darkened to a molten green, and his lips took on a sensual cast. “That’s a loaded question, Kira. Are you sure you want me to answer it while we’re on board Air Force One?”
Kira felt heat glide over her face, but willed it back, as well as the sexual heat riding the V of her jeans. The man needed a hazardous label.
Her hearing picked up the sound of John’s approaching footsteps. She needed to corral her own feelings and Gareth’s.
“I was talking about breakfast, Mr. President.” She ended her sentence just as John opened the door and stepped over the threshold.
“Thank you, Agent Jackson, I already had coffee when John and I boarded. I’ll grab a bite for breakfast after we take off.”
“Here you go. You might want to wait to open the bottle. The pilot said we’re fixing to take off. Mr. President, time to strap in. You too, Kira.”
Kira fastened her seat belt as Gareth and John fastened theirs. Her stomach actually fluttered. Strange, since she’d flown in all types of aircrafts. It could be the fact it was Air Force One, the culmination of her dreams. Only now, she wondered if the zenith of her wishes was actually the man, not the role he played as president.
The engines started their warm-up, first with a low rumble and then a high-pitched sound. When all four were in full throttle, she felt the plane begin to taxi forward. Soon, they would be touring the clouds. The trip should take only about four hours or so, if the weather held.
Shortly, the pilot’s voice came over the intercom. “We’ve reached cruising altitude and are now on our flight pattern. You may now feel free to move about the cabin, but when seated, please keep your seat belts fastened.” The voice cut off, and then the phone rang on Gareth’s desk. He hit a button, and the pilot’s voice spoke again. “Mr. President, I will keep you apprised of our flight logistics, the weather, and will let you know before we approach our landing site. In the meantime, Mr. King said you were to stop whatever you are doing and eat.”
“Thank you, Commander. I appreciate you letting me know.” Gareth clicked off the speakerphone and then grinned at both Kira and John. “Malachi is worse than an old mother hen. Still, I think it would be best to do as he says.” Gareth unfastened his belt and stood up. “Anyone else ready for breakfast?”
Kira followed Gareth and John from the office. They exited left, walked down the wide corridor, and then turned into the galley, also on the left.
“Mr. President! I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Relax, Claude. I thought I’d stretch my legs a bit before going back to my speech. I also wanted to introduce my night agent to you. This is her first voyage on Air Force One. Kira”—Gareth motioned her forward—“I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Claude Powell. We served together during Operation Desert Storm in January 1991. He’s one of the best mess cooks to ever boil water.”
“You make me proud, Mr. President.” Claude’s round, bronze face gleamed with color.
“Drop the formality, Claude. We’ve been friends too long to stand on ceremony unless we are on display.” Gareth slapped the man on his back before continuing, “Now, let me introduce you to Agent Kira Jackson. She will be traveling to Camp David with us, also.”
The chef wiped his hands on his apron, and Kira reached out to shake one of his meaty paws. The man was built like a bulldozer. Good thing he had the height to carry it off.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Powell.”
“You better make that Claude, Kira, or Gareth will have both our heads.”
“You got it. We wouldn’t want to make the president angry.” Kira ignored the smirk Gareth sent her way. Instead, she glanced at the pots and pans on the commercial-size stove. “What are you cooking? It smells heavenly.”
“Saucisson, jus de viande, petits gateaux, and le fromage pousse.” Claude reeled off the menu with a flourish of his hand.
“In layman’s terms, that would be fried sausage, gravy with biscuits, and eggs and cheese, Kira.” Gareth laughed out loud as Kira’s eyes grew round.
“Are you actually going to eat all this?”
“Well, not by myself, but I do plan on making considerable inroads into Claude’s offering. Like I said, he’s an outstanding cook.”
Gareth caught Kira’s arm and tugged her closer to the stove. He took a plate from one of Claude’s mess crew and began to fill it to the brim with some of each of the four items. “Here you go. You need to eat also. It wouldn’t hurt you to put on a few pounds, although I don’t think any amount of food will make you taller than a flea.”
The luscious sight of her open mouth made Gareth glad they had an audience. Otherwise, he’d have her in his arms and fill the spaces between her luscious lips with his tongue. Something he couldn’t do, no matter how much he ached to.
“Mr. President, I hardly think—”
Gareth handed her the plate before responding, “Relax, I was just kidding. Now, as my mama would say, eat up.” Taking another plate, he filled it full and handed it to John before he filled his own plate. Instead of going back to his quarters or office, he took a seat at the counter with Kira and John.
John shoveled food into his mouth like a lumberjack starved for four days. Kira’s pace was a bit slower. She sampled each type of food on her plate before taking a sip of OJ. Soon, she was packing in as much food as the men.
“Oh wow, Claude, this breakfast was to die for. If you ever want to take up cooking for a lowly agent, I’d hire you in a minute.” Kira dabbed her lips with a linen napkin.
Gareth laughed. “It won’t do you any good. I’ve tried to get him to cook for me at the White House. He refuses.”
“Why, Claude?” Kira’s question caused another burst of color on the chef’s face.
“Well, it’s like this, Kira. I like working on this plane. No one bothe
rs me. I only have to work when we’re airborne, and the rest of the time, I spend with my daughter and her kids. It’s a good life.”
“I understand. Family is important.”
“Yes, it is, but keep this on the low side.” Claude dropped his voice several decibels. “If I ever decide to become a personal chef, I’ll put your name at the top of the list.”
“Claude!” Gareth’s exclamation was laced with humor. He loved the smile his old friend’s words put on Kira’s lips.
“Fine, I’ll put her second on my list.”
Gareth ushered a laughing Kira and John out of the galley. He threw a mock salute at Claude before turning to Kira. “I know this is your maiden voyage, so would you like to see the rest of the plane? I give great tours. You can ask John.”
Laughter still prevalent in her gaze, Kira responded, “I would be honored, Mr. President.”
* * * *
Two hours later, Kira collapsed on the sofa, back in the president’s office. Gareth had taken her on an unbelievable tour—the lower deck of the plane, housing cargo and communications, to the middle deck, where the official offices were, as well as the presidential suite. Of course, that wasn’t all the second portion of the plane consisted of. A huge conference and dining room, almost the width of the Boeing 747, was a fraction of its makeup.
Gareth had shown her everything, even the retractable staircases and the upper deck where the control cabin, crew lounge, and communications resided.
Kira stifled a yawn with her hand. Nothing like seeing how the president handled affairs of the nation to make her realize just how truly different they were. Each time he stopped to explain how things worked, even though as an agent she already knew, he’d treated her more like a guest than an employee or anything closer.
Gareth was now in his suite, taking a short break from answering questions from the press, while John stood guard right outside his door. Both men told her to get some rest, and that was what she planned to do. If she could just forget about feeling she was nothing to Gareth but an agent. It was one thing to treat her like that in front of the press, but the longer the tour went on, the more distant he became.
She stretched out and dragged a cushion under her head. Regardless of how Gareth treated her, she had a job to do, and she needed to get some sleep to be alert. Thank God John was on duty now. The big morning meal, the tour, and Gareth’s attitude all served to make her feel even more tired. Another yawn and she closed her eyes. Maybe, if she was lucky, she could nap the rest of the way to California.
Chapter Eight
Boom!
An explosion rocked the plane, jolting Kira awake and tossing her to the floor. Another boom sounded, and a wrenching, tearing noise made her flinch. A second later, she was on her feet, running for the presidential suite.
As she flung herself out into the corridor, she spotted John’s body lying on the carpeted surface of the plane. Crimson dotted his hairline, and a streak rolled sluggishly down his face. She stopped, checked his pulse, and scooped him up in her arms.
“Kira?” he asked.
Thank God, the agent was still alive. “I’m here, John. It’s going to be okay.” She opened the door and stepped into the room. Her gaze lit on an already mobilized Gareth. He had the phone up to his ear, barking questions.
“I’m going to put you on the couch, and then I’ll see about getting you some help.” Kira could have taken John to the medical suite, but until she checked out how things were in there and found out what had happened, she preferred not to move him too far. Although John’s wound was no longer bleeding out, he was groggy, which meant he could not guard Gareth. Which meant her plans to talk to the pilot and make a circuit of the plane—preferably in her immaterial vampire guise—would have to wait.
“Kira!”
She turned to find Gareth’s eyes on her. “Yes, sir, Mr. President.”
“Are you all right?”
“Except for being tossed off the couch, I’m fine. What about you?”
“Me too, but not sure about the plane. The pilot said we lost two engines. One of them tore off a piece of a wing tip.”
As if to prove Gareth’s words true, the plane started to tilt to the left.
“Is there anything we can do?”
“I don’t know. I’m going up to talk to the pilot in person and hopefully scope out the damage.”
“Mr. President, you need to stay here. Yes”—Kira held up her hand—“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I need you to be where I can get to you in a hurry if need be. And I need to scope out what’s going on.”
She motioned to John. “He may have a concussion and would be horrified if something happened to you, so please do as I ask. Just stay here.”
* * * *
Gareth watched Kira in her agent mode. She seemed to be more sure of herself than when they were in the tunnel. Her face was etched in determination, and her stance signaled she would do what she had to do to keep him safe. Considering she had carried John into the suite without breaking a sweat, he had no desire to test her abilities. Still…
“No. I’m the commander in chief. We will do a round of the plane and check with the pilot together. I have to know what is going on, Kira. I have to have a visual. There are lives at stake, and I know you are familiar with this phrase: ‘No one is going to die on my watch.’ Now”—Gareth shot her a look that he hoped was commanding—“move your ass. The quicker we do this, the quicker we can get back.”
A snarl erupted from her lovely lips, but he paid her no never mind. Gareth walked over and laid a palm against John’s shoulder. “Hang in there, John. Now rest. It’s not your watch. That’s an order.” He smiled down at the man who would die to keep Gareth safe, and wanted to curse. He meant what he told John. No one was going to die.
“Agent Jackson, at my back.”
Gareth knew Kira was mad enough to spit grenades, but Air Force One was his command, and he would take charge. Not because he was bullheaded, but the men and women on board needed to see he was calm. They would take their cue from him. He needed to be a presence they could lock on to. So his agent would have to get over her mad spell.
“Sir, I don’t—”
“This is not up for discussion. We have a job to do, so move out.”
The corridor looked secured, and so did the medical suite. He stopped for a moment. “Dr. Shelton, is everyone okay?”
“Yes, Mr. President. Other than a few items, all encased in unbreakable packages, hitting the floor, nothing else is out of place. I hope the situation is under control.”
Shelton served with Gareth’s dad during the Vietnam War. He was a medic, and then got his doctorate in medicine. He was the first on Gareth’s list when they were looking at applicants for his medical team.
“I’ll know in a bit, Sheltie. I need you or one of your personnel to check on John. He’s in my suite. He took quite a fall and banged his head. Just keep your people calm, and be ready for anything.” Gareth dropped a hand on the older man’s shoulder. He’d hate like hell to have anything happen to this man.
“Will do, Gareth. You be careful.”
The doctor nodded at Kira and then grabbed a black bag and headed toward the suite.
They checked on Claude, who told them all was fine, and then moved to the dining and conference rooms. There the damage was more prevalent. Chairs and tables were overturned, and the stemware that had been set out lay in shards of glass on the laminated floor. After making certain the wait-staff and the senior staff next door were without injuries, Gareth paused.
“Okay, where to next?”
Kira’s question jarred Gareth. She’d been silent up to now. He could have said he’d forgotten she was with him, but that would be a lie. Even in the throes of a possible crash landing, he could not ignore the way her perfume teased his senses. The light fragrance shouted, I am woman. Take me. And if he followed up on that thought, she would probably hurt him, as mad as she was at the moment.
He cast a glance to the side and saw his assumption was correct. “Now we check in with security and the office staff. I’m really surprised no one from security has tried to find me.”
The same story applied to those sections. Everyone was okay, but shaken. Security Officer Niles Beaumont shook hands with Gareth. “You saved me a trip up front, sir. I was on my way to see if you were okay or needed anything.”
“I’m fine. John seems to be the only one mildly injured so far. Dr. Shelton is checking him out. I’ll give you an update on what’s going on as soon as I know.”
“Thanks. I’ll see if I can be of service to the doc. John is a good guy.”
Gareth and Kira continued to canvass the plane until they made it to the press section. Reporters and television crews were talking into their cell phones. For the most part, they seemed to be okay. Gareth made his way to a tall blond male who turned as they approached.
“Mr. President, are you okay?”
“Yes, thank you, Ryan. Agent Jackson and I are doing a sweep of the plane to see about any injuries.”
“Other than being a bit shell-shocked, everyone here is okay. As you can see, they are already calling their contacts.”
“And you didn’t?” Gareth allowed a brief smile to surface as he watched one of Washington’s television anchors squirm.
“Well, I sorta did. Just a quick summary.”
“That’s what I thought. I will be giving a statement in a bit, when I have more details. In the meantime, why not make yourself useful and get these men and women back in their seats? It wouldn’t be remiss to have them fasten their seat belts.”
“Yes, sir.” The man’s face blanched as he started around the room.
Gareth turned and looked down at Kira. “Now we go see the pilot.”
Their trip back to the front of the plane was not as steady as the previous one. The plane, which had stabilized from its tilt, dropped like a rock. Kira grabbed for Gareth at the same time he grabbed her. They both went down in a tangle of limbs near the front stairway for the upper deck.
Smith, Faith V. - Presidential Heat [Vampire Government Protectors] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 5