2. Ben
Ten minutes after my commuter flight from Southern Cali to San Francisco touched down, my fellow passengers and I deboarded the plane. The young couple who’d been sitting—and hence leaving the plane—in front of me moved off to the side of the carpeted gangway. They juggled bags and a toddler and a fold-up stroller.
I slowed beside them. “Need some help?”
The guy shot me a look, did a double-take, then shook his head. “I’ve got it.”
Maybe it was because I was giving off that intense, soldier-on-a-mission vibe that I hadn’t lost in the two short weeks since I’d left the Army Rangers. Maybe it was the aviators making my eyes and intentions unreadable. But most likely it was the way his attractive wife—petite, dark-haired, pretty smile—grinned up at me.
I nodded to the surly dude, touched the brim of my baseball cap and smiled back at the pretty wife, and hustled past them and out to the main gate area.
I adjusted the duffle bag strapped to my back and switched hands on the handle of my rolling suitcase, not missing a step as I took in my surroundings, including the throngs of people in the busy airport. Old habits die hard, and SA—situational awareness of everyone, everything, and even the slightest changes around me—was by now a honed reflex.
My cell phone rang. That pissed me right the hell off because I hadn’t taken it out of airplane mode. There was only one person in my life who had friends who not only could but also would crack a civilian phone.
Still walking, I pulled the ringing phone out of my jeans pocket. I ignored the call for another few seconds while I scanned my text messages. The first one confirmed my job interview start time on Tuesday morning. It came directly from the private phone of the VP of the Chicago company that was currently at the top of my list for my first post-service civilian job. The perks alone were enticing as hell, from a luxury car with my own driver to a generous expense account to plush trips abroad, where I’d be wined and dined by business associates.
Christ, what a treat that would be, to step on foreign soil and not have someone shooting at me.
I thumbed to the other text message chain, which, of course, was from my sister.
Pick up your damn phone! Is your ringer off? Call me now.
As the phone bleated its fourth ring, I clicked to answer it.
“It’s about time!” Mai said, not bothering with pleasantries.
I didn’t bother greeting her, either. “What the hell, Mai? Hacking my phone?”
“I wouldn’t have had to do that if you would’ve taken your phone out of airplane mode when you landed, like a normal person.”
I sighed. “Did you ever think maybe that was intentional?”
“Oh. I get it now.” Her voice softened. “Mom and Dad are calling you nonstop. They’re just anxious to see you. But hey, I’m calling you on non-family business, if that makes you feel better.”
“Yeah, it does, actually.” Not much, but a little. “What’s the emergency?” It wasn’t an idle question.
“I’m off-soil, and I need backup.”
Off-soil was the way my sister, also a former Ranger, my dad, a retired Navy vice-admiral, and I discussed being out of the country on a mission. Backup was a lot more vague, but Mai didn’t need to ask me twice.
“How do I get to you, and what do you need?”
“You get to stay right where you are. The help is for a friend.”
“What kind of help?”
“The off-grid kind.”
Shit. That did not sound good. Someone who’d called on Mai’s expertise to go to ground must be in a metric fuck-ton of trouble. “What can you tell me?”
“Not much. She doesn’t know what she’s into. Her business partner got their company mixed up in some shady shit with unknown entities. Not government.”
“Well, at least she has that going for her.” That left drug cartels, various mobs, and white-collar crime rings. Fuuuck.
“I have a teammate running down the details.” Mai referred to someone from the covert ops team she never discussed and we all pretended she wasn’t on. “You’ll know more when we do. In the meantime, she’s coming your way.”
I took a good look at the people streaming toward me. But surely Mai didn’t mean that literally.
“I mean that literally,” she said. “She’s at the airport. Obviously, your leisurely train ride across the country is OBE.” Which meant overcome by events, the event in question being doing my sister’s dirty work. “Rent a car. Your ID only, not hers. And—”
“Christ, Mai, do you want to run me back through boot camp while you’re at it? I’ve been off the job for a couple of weeks, not a decade.”
She laughed. “Sorry, forgot myself for a minute. I’ve been dealing with civilians on the ground here and then trying to help my friend from a couple thousand miles away. I told her you’re the best, and I meant it.”
“You remember I’m putting that behind me, right? Becoming a nine-to-fiver. Living life in the slow lane.”
“I know you think that.”
I bit back my smart-ass response because the last time we’d had this discussion—in fact, the last dozen times—I’d promised myself I’d stop arguing with my sister about the trajectory of my life. My new plan was to get the last laugh by proving her wrong.
“And I know you’ll help me because this woman is in trouble,” Mai added.
She knew she had me. Hell, we both knew it.
“Where does she need to disappear to?” I asked.
“She needs to come east so I can get her under my team’s protection if this whole thing is as dangerous as it sounds.”
“I have to be in Chicago by Monday night.”
“Last time I checked, Chicago is east of California, little bro. Please. There’s no one else who can do this for me.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, pushing my aviators up off my face. “I’ll make it work. Give me her name and description.”
“No need,” Mai said. “She’ll be looking for you at baggage claim.”
“You know damn well I don’t travel with checked luggage.” Because standing around like an idiot, waiting for bags, was a colossal waste of time.
“So, how’s that slow lane working out for you?”
I grunted because speaking my mind would probably offend the very sweet-looking middle-aged ladies I’d caught up to and was now passing.
Mai chuckled, no doubt interpreting my meaning. “Gotta run, Ben. I love you. Rangers lead the way!”
Since I was past the nice ladies, this time I didn’t hold back. “I love you, too, but fuck off because I’m supposed to be following, not leading anymore.”
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” Mai clicked off on her end, depriving me of the satisfaction of hanging up on her.
I slid my phone into my pocket and picked up my pace, weaving around my fellow passengers and, damn my sister, taking the lead. I was the first one to arrive at the carousel belt where my flight’s luggage would appear. I hung back, waiting for my new mission to find me.
This is not a mission. This is a favor, I reminded myself. I pulled off my aviators and baseball cap so the woman would easily be able to match me to the description Mai must have given her.
I surveilled the area, ignoring the clumps of people gathered around other carousels, looking for a woman traveling alone. That described at least a third of the people swarming baggage claim. No point in even trying to narrow it down by approaching likely candidates. That was probably for the best anyway since I didn’t want to be the creeper chatting up unaccompanied women in the airport.
I turned in a slow circle because my target could be coming from any direction. When I’d almost made it back to my starting position, I glimpsed a tall beauty with long, silky, light brown hair. I’d had a weakness for women like that since at least the age of thirteen, when I’d developed my first crush. Unlike so many travelers, this woman was alert, taking in her surroundings, studying the people close to her while observing those farther away, too. Which was why it was inevitable that our eyes would meet.
My heart stopped for a split second when it happened. I was a sucker for golden brown eyes, too. Damn, if I didn’t know better, I would have sworn she was—
Shit. No.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
If this woman was who I thought she was, I was going to kill my sister. But unless and until she approached me, there was still a possibility she wasn’t Savannah Lindstrom. Mai’s best friend from high school. My first crush. My best-ever fling.
For a few more seconds, I held on to that hope. But when her open expression turned into a scowl, even as she made a beeline for me, I knew karma had finally caught up with my sorry ass. I straightened my spine, steeled my resolve.
And prepared to pay the price for the biggest mistake of my life.