by A. G. Henley
I nodded. The waiting—waiting for Laax, waiting for Veena to nail the double V, waiting for the kidnappers to make another move—stressed me out, too.
While Veena trained, I sat at my table at the clubhouse, listening and looking at files, my back to a wall so no one could see. When I thought I might be close with a few dialects, I had Veena listen. She’d heard the kidnappers, too, but between her panic and the muffling effect of the laundry cart and dirty towel pile she was stuffed into, she was even less sure than I was. The task felt hopeless.
While I worked, I watched for the mystery man to reappear in the clubhouse. Not that I really thought he would. Still, who the hell was he, and why wasn’t Brown worried about him?
And there was Connor. Thanks to the extra work, dinner with him never happened. He seemed unfazed, texting me most nights to check in anyway. Why couldn’t he be annoyed or drift away like a normal guy would?
Could it be because his interest in me—or Veena—wasn’t normal?
Seventeen
The excruciating wait was almost over: tomorrow we’d fly from Denver to Zurich.
Veena and I spent the afternoon packing. Given that this was the big show, Muth and Newman had planned a special pep talk for that night.
When we arrived at the darkened Summit Room after dinner, music pumped, and red, yellow, blue, green, and black streamers festooned the place—Olympic colors. A giant white cake decorated with the Olympic flag covered a table. The plates, cups, and napkins matched the streamers. A disco ball hung from the ceiling tiles, and a few colored strobe lights zoomed through the room. The school had outdone itself.
A gyrating girl that I recognized from American History handed everyone plastic glow-in-the-dark Olympic torches on the way in. Kids swung them around, creating light trails. Ali and Veena stood open-mouthed at the door and then whooped with excitement. Gage slid by them and into the darkness, his hips already moving to the music.
“Haven’t you ever had a school dance before?” I asked the girls.
“This is Vail Mountain Academy.” Veena’s eyes shone with excitement. “We ski and ride and study. We don’t dance.”
“Looks like you do tonight.”
“Damn right!” Ali stuck her torch into her bra so it lit up her face from below and shimmied onto the dance floor. Veena followed, bouncing up and down to the music.
I started to follow her, but someone blocked my view.
“Just the girl I was looking for,” Jake said. “You never danced with me at the Grinders show.” His gelled hair glistened in the low light, and for once, he was wearing fitted jeans instead of sweatpants. “How about now?”
I shot him an incredulous look. Did he not remember that night at all? How drunk had he been?
“Sorry, I only slow dance,” I said. A fast and furious hip-hop song was on, but right then the song ended and a pop ballad started. Slow and romantic.
Jake grinned, and I sighed. I meant to say a simple no thanks and move on, but something across the room made me pause. Darya’s dark eyes burned an angry hole into Jake’s back.
And it all clicked: Darya sitting at Jake’s table in the dining hall, Darya sneaking out after training, Darya whispering on the phone. She was hooking up with him. And seeing him with me now, the look on her face was pure jealousy.
In the seconds it took to put all that together, Jake had pulled me out on the floor and tight against his body. Gage’s eyebrows shot up, but Ali and Veena didn’t notice; they had their arms around each other, belting out the lyrics of the song. Now that we were out here, I might as well see how Darya reacted.
“So, I hear you’re Veena’s bodyguard,” Jake said. “Have you killed anyone?”
It was the fifth time someone asked me that today. I fixed him with a hard stare. “Not yet.”
“I’ll bet you know some sweet fight moves.” Jake dipped me suddenly, cracking my back, then pulled me back up. “Show me one?”
My eyes found Darya as a strobe light illuminated her face. She was even paler than usual, and tears shone in her eyes. Despite everything I thought she’d done, I felt guilty. Sixteen wasn’t that long ago; I remembered how much it hurt to watch guys I liked flirt with other girls.
“Hey, is Darya your girlfriend?” I swung him around to see her face. She hurriedly wiped her eyes, glared at him for a second and then looked away.
He shrugged. “She’s my hookup.”
“Doesn’t look like she feels the same.”
“That’s her problem.”
I bristled—for myself and for Darya. Jake really was an asswipe like Veena said. Trying my best to avoid any notice, I maneuvered him into a dark corner. Then, I moved in as if to kiss him. He looked surprised but willing to go along with it.
“You want to see a move?” I whispered in his ear. “How about this one?”
I clenched his arm, whirled his body around so his back was to me, and yanked his hand up. He yelped as I put pressure on his shoulder and elbow joints. I leaned close.
“Jake, you’re a jerk. Stop messing with girls’ minds.”
“What? I—”
“Shut up. I want you to go to Darya right now, tell her the truth, and apologize for using her. And leave me alone. Got it?” I pulled his hand a little farther up to make my point.
“Yes, okay! I will.”
I let him go, grateful no one had seemed to notice our chat . . . no one except Muth. Shit. He was coming my way, his expression thunderous.
“Miss. Rossi. Come with me.”
I followed him out of the room while texting Kovitch to let him know I needed him to cover with Veena.
Muth gestured to the couch in his dim office, but he didn’t sit himself. I guessed he was going with the angry father routine.
“I believe we spoke about the importance of safety at VMA when you arrived, did we not?” he said.
“We did.”
“And I told you we had a no tolerance policy on violence.”
“I think you said something along those lines.”
“But I just saw you contorting one of my students in some kind of hold.”
I groaned inside. Jake had deserved what he’d gotten, but I’d reacted instead of thinking it through—as usual. “Yes, you did.”
He eyed me, and I waited, resigned.
He didn’t speak for a moment. “Mr. Brown told me you will accompany Veena to Laax tomorrow, and he expected your assignment to end after the Olympics.”
I managed a curt nod. Veena had negotiated with her parents. Once the Olympics were over, she’d return home and do private tutoring for the rest of the semester instead of coming back to VMA, at least until the FBI got a handle on who was behind the kidnapping attempts and threats.
“Which means after tonight, you will no longer be my problem.”
I blink. “I guess not.”
“Excellent. That will be all. Please return to your room and keep your hands to yourself until you leave.”
I stood. That was it? No punishment or at least a public humiliation? Muth must have seen the suspicious confusion on my face.
“You aren’t an official student at VMA, thank heavens. And your job here is nearly finished. I’ll make an example of you with our students, of course, by saying you were asked to leave the school for violating our policies and because your grades were terrible. Both of which are true statements.” He clasped his hands in front of him. “But I see no need for further reprimand. I would like Veena to return safely from Switzerland as an Olympic champion—and without you. So please do your job well. Good evening, Ms. Rossi.”
He opened the door and fearing what I might say if I opened my mouth anymore, I left without another word. Veena and Gage sat in the hallway, backs against the wall. They hurried to me when I came out. Kovitch mopped a floor down the hall. We made eye contact, and he kept mopping.
“What happened?” Veena said.
I shrug. “Nothing. He just told me to go to my room.”
We all
snorted with laughter at how that sounded.
“I mean, he was pompous and everything—”
“That’s a given,” Gage said.
“But he didn’t really do anything.”
“Are you good?” Veena asked.
“I’m fine. But I’d better do what he told me to do.”
“I’ll go with you,” she said.
“No, seriously. You were having fun at the dance, you should go back.”
She glanced at the door. Music and peals of laughter rolled out. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Definitely. I’m going to take a walk and clear my head, then I’ll head up to the room.” As long as I wasn’t messing with his students, I didn’t think Muth would care.
“It’s below zero out there,” Gage said.
Like the Weather Channel, that one. But I liked him and Ali. The rest of VMA I wouldn’t miss much. Veena and her friends went back into the dance, followed by Kovitch under pretense of emptying the trashcans. I grabbed my coat and gloves from our room and headed outside.
My nose instantly went numb, while the night air froze my lungs. I walked quickly to keep my body temperature up, and my feet took me to the slopes out of habit. After dark, the mountains couldn’t be seen so much as felt, like squatting giants waiting to wake with first light. The ski clubhouse was closed up, but I sat on top of a picnic table in front. I couldn’t stay long without turning into an ice sculpture, but I wanted a minute to breathe in the peace and quiet. It would be the last time for a while.
Every minute of this assignment had been firsts, all wracked with self-doubt. My first CPO assignment. First time being part of a professional team. First time in Colorado or at a ski resort. First time around elite athletes. And tomorrow, first time leaving the country. I’d applied for an expedited passport when SSA hired me.
Somehow, despite every mistake I’d made, I’d be protecting Veena while she chased her dream on the big stage, one most athletes would never see. Almost every Olympic organizing committee over the past fifty years had received terrorist threats of one kind or another—but the number of ways the kidnappers could get to Veena was paralyzing. I needed to be at my best.
The consequences of failure were too awful to imagine, especially now that I knew Veena and her parents.
A memory of Gram floated up. I was at my first softball game, around age seven, a crowd of eager parents behind me, and I whiffed while trying to hit the ball. I’d been practicing hitting for weeks, and there the ball was, still sitting on its tee right in front of me. The other team giggled.
“You’ve got this, Snickers,” Grams said, using my nickname. “Just line yourself up, keep your eye on that ball, and swing.”
Determined, I’d done what she said. Lined up, kept my eye on the ball, swung . . . and missed again. Behind me, my own team joined in the laughter.
“One more try, Nic, okay?” my coach had said.
Tears in my eyes, I’d looked at Gram. She nodded, but it was the expression of complete confidence on her face that got me to line up one more time. I swung, and no one on the other team laughed as I ran past home plate a minute later.
Gram had believed in me. She’d known I could hit the ball. I’d worked just as hard for this opportunity. I needed to put the mistakes behind me and find that confidence in myself now.
Footsteps crunched through the snow behind me, and I whipped around.
“Hey.” Connor slid onto the table beside me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I went looking for you over at VMA, and Veena said you’d gone for a walk.”
I blinked back the tears the memory of Gram dredged up. “They threw a dance.”
“Yeah, saw that. Why are you out here?”
“I got . . . kicked out.” My teeth chattered.
Connor put his arm around me. I resisted for a millisecond, but it felt too good. I nestled into him. What could I say? He somehow put me at ease, despite my misgivings about him. Being with him felt natural, like I’d known him all my life. Another first.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I twisted a grabby boy into an unwilling pretzel with the head of school as my audience.”
He laughed. “Do I need to have a word with the kid?”
“Thanks, I can handle Jake. It’s the kidnappers I’m worried about.” After running out on him at lunch, I’d told him the bare minimum about what happened. I’m sure he’d pieced together the rest from all the media speculation since then.
He tucked me in closer. Above us, on the mountain, grooming vehicles trundled across the slopes, their headlamps shooting tiny beams of light through the dark.
“Do you think they’ll try something so soon after Copper?” he asked.
“I wish I knew.” I exhaled, my breath curling in the ice-bitten air, then I sat up to look at him. “Why did you come by, Connor?”
He kept watching the lights on the mountain. “I missed seeing you. It’s been a while.”
His expression was hard to read, but his voice was soft and genuine. Our eyes locked. He smelled soapy again, clean and inviting.
Screw it. I didn’t know what Connor might be up to, but I’d wanted to do this for a while now, and I didn’t know if I’d have another chance. I pushed him slowly back onto the table.
Did I say I wouldn’t hook up with Connor?
I lied.
Eighteen
The next morning was a flurry of packing the little stuff, double checking every bag, and stressing. Before I knew it, we were in the car with Bart. Brown had gone ahead to Switzerland a few days ago to make all of our arrangements. Everyone else on the SSA team, including Kovitch and Cooley, were in the rented van behind us, waiting to leave.
Veena was an F-5 tornado of nerves and excitement, and I had to admit, I wasn’t much calmer. I escorted her into the back seat, ready to climb in myself, when Newman ran out, waving some paper. His scarf was a patriotic red, white, and blue today.
“Veena, wait!” he called.
Bart made an impatient British sound, a sort of harrumph. Veena hesitated, but I pushed her in and got in myself. Newman could talk to her through the window. Squinting in the bright sun, he bent down to see her.
“Your final itinerary for Switzerland. You forgot to pick it up.” He thrust the paper past my face.
She folded it and slid it into her backpack. “Thanks, Mr. Newman.”
He smiled. “Don’t neglect your online assignments while you’re there.” Bart gunned the engine, but Newman was oblivious. “And good luck in your events. We’ll be watching and cheering you on.” He turned his smile to me. “Good luck to you, too, Nic.”
Newman stepped away from the car, and Bart pulled out of the parking lot. We were on our way to Switzerland.
Bart had planned every detail of our trip to Denver, down to where to stop for bathroom breaks. The weather cooperated, offering us blue skies and decent temps as we made our way to the airport. He dropped Veena and me at departures. The majority of the SSA team got out with us, and we all headed for security. As Veena drained her water bottle and shoved it in her backpack, a paper crunched.
“Whoops.” She extracted her itinerary, now crushed, and glanced at it. “Wait, Newman gave me the wrong schedule. This is Ali’s.”
“Don’t worry. He can always email you another, can’t he?”
I looked over the paper. Ali wasn’t flying for a few more days. She couldn’t afford to stay as long as Veena, she’d told us. “My daddy isn’t a Silicon Valley god,” she’d teased. She had a lot of the same activities that Veena did, like pre-Games meetings and coaching sessions, although she didn’t have as many media events. United 1774 was penciled in at the bottom. But right there on the schedule it said Ali was taking an American flight.
Wait—I asked Bart for my boarding pass, which he handed me. United 1774 was our flight number. Huh, weird.
“Do you recognize this handwriting?” I asked Veena. Bouncing up and down on her toes
—she hadn’t stopped fidgeting all morning, even in the car—she glanced at it and shook her head. It must be Newman’s. He thought he was giving Veena her own itinerary, so he wrote her flight number on it.
After speeding through security, we hung out in the VIP lounge, and then walked to the gate. People jammed the place, ready to board, and everyone seemed to stare at Veena. Some obviously recognized her, whispering to their companions and pointing. She’d popped up in the news before Darya outed us, but now, she was everywhere. The exposure made my stomach churn.
Connor was there, too, traveling with some coaches and other trainers from the U.S. Team. Wearing jeans, a flannel, and worn loafers, he looked good. The green of his shirt pulled a foresty color from his eyes. We kept glancing at each other across the waiting area, and I had to fight the urge to break out in a stupid grin every time.
Veena slept most of the twelve-hour flight to Zurich. I stayed up. I was on duty for half the time and too wired to sleep anyway. I passed Connor in his seat after switching with Kovitch so he could take over next to Veena. Connor had a cup of coffee in front of him. He was a little pale, and his hair stuck out in all directions, but I doubted I looked too fresh, either. He slid his fingers against my hand, just for a moment, as I went by.
“See you in Laax,” he murmured.
Zurich’s airport was as flashy and modern as Denver’s: steel, glass, and stone with soaring ceilings and wide walkways. Most signs were in German, but many were in English, too. And there were helpful ones with black silhouette people saying what was and wasn’t allowed, like forming a line or walking up the down escalator.
The SSA team and I walked Veena through a less crowded part of the main terminal. Bart, who spoke German, had gone ahead to make sure the vehicles were ready. But now he hustled toward us looking seriously annoyed. I stepped in front of Veena and the others moved in close. A few seconds later, we saw why Bart was pissed.
Video crews with cameras and microphones milled by the outer doors. A reporter with long, coal black hair and stiletto heels spotted Veena. She hurried our way, followed by the others. Bart held out his arms to slow them down, but they pushed past him like bargain-hunters on Black Friday. Veena stiffened.