Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
PARIS, FRANCE
Jesse steadied his focus out the small window on the plane, the “city of love” in the distance as they neared Charles de Gaulle Airport at zero seven hundred hours local time.
The last twenty-four hours or so hadn’t exactly been a blur, but he’d swear he’d blinked, and now they were about to land in France, the operation in Albania a quick and distant memory.
If only every op in Jesse’s lifetime had gone as butter-smooth as the one in Tirana. His sister’s genius plan had been executed flawlessly by Sydney. She’d snuck in and out without detection, and it was another reminder to Jesse that both his sister and Sydney were badasses.
Hopefully, now that they had the listening devices and cameras planted, the team would gather new intelligence to learn more about what in the hell was really going on, and with any luck, get a lead on Zoran’s whereabouts.
We’re good. Everything worked out, Jesse told himself in an attempt to shake the feeling that things were almost too good. He’d been convinced someone would open fire at the wedding or take aim when he and Ella had had their talk near the woods. His anxiety-driven thoughts had also come to the conclusion that his team would need to breach the property in Albania to assist Sydney.
Always assuming the worst meant Jesse had multiple solutions mapped out in his mind ahead of time for when that inevitable shoe dropped—because it always did. Statistically speaking, a streak of perfectly executed missions as a Ranger undoubtedly ended, often with the loss of life. Why would his new work with Falcon be any different? But he sure as hell hoped it would be.
Jesse turned his attention to Ella sitting across from him and found her watching him instead of the city of Paris unfolding below like one of those pop-up Christmas cards.
“I know you’re not happy about Paris,” she began, “but thank you for letting me come here anyway.”
Jesse clutched the chair arms before he did one of two things: hauled Ella onto his lap or opened the emergency door and jumped without a chute. Because what in God’s name was he thinking in taking Ella to Paris to draw out a madman?
Despite his normal method of anticipating the worst and planning for it, he’d refused to even contemplate any worst-case scenarios that ended in Ella’s death. That was where he drew the line when it came to overthinking.
“Are you really thanking me?” he asked as she fidgeted with the heart-shaped diamond ring and plain white gold band on her finger.
He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to buy the engagement ring when he’d only gone for bands, but when he saw the heart-shaped diamond, he’d been unable to stop himself.
“You could’ve easily locked me away. But you listened to what I wanted, and for that, yes, I’m thanking you,” she murmured softly, her breathy tone strikingly similar to the one she’d used in the jet bedroom twenty-four hours ago.
And had that really happened? For a minute, he’d thought it’d been a dream. That he’d hit his head and made the entire erotic scene up during his jerk-off session. But their time together in New York had proven that Ella was anything but shy when it came to sex, and her sexual appetite matched his own.
Ella’s sexual appetite . . . The idea of her unleashing her passionate side with Brian, or hell, any man, made him unbelievably jealous. It was painful to acknowledge that she’d most likely had more than one lover in the three years since he’d screwed up and stuck to the “what happens in New York, stays in New York” deal.
He mulled over Ella’s words again. Her unexpected thank-you. He deserved a sarcastic, Thanks for putting me in danger, you dickhead , not thank you for taking me to Paris.
Maybe I should have locked you up instead and spent that time making up for my three-year mistake. The first lick he’d taken of her pussy had driven him wild, and he’d had to rein himself in, especially on board a flight with his teammates. After tasting her, he only wanted more. But after those mind-numbing twenty minutes together, Ella had made it clear her expectations where he was concerned hadn’t changed.
Just before he’d left the room, she’d whispered, “ You’re still you. I’m still me. Neither of us have changed. This was about . . . releasing tension. I still don’t know if I can trust you not to hurt me.”
“Are you going to say anything or just sit there looking all broody?” Sassy Ella was back, and that more familiar tone pulled him free of his thoughts.
“What do you want me to say?” He opened his palms. “You’re in this mess because of me. There’s a target on your head because eighteen months ago, I failed to complete my op successfully. So, yes, this is my fault. I let myself get distracted, and now there’s a psychopath out there looking for revenge because of it when he should be dead.”
Ella’s mouth opened, and she stopped fiddling with the rings. “Wow. Okay.” She unbuckled even though the plane was descending. “You really think that’s why we’re here?” Once on her feet, she set her hand to the ceiling for balance. “ That’s why we’re in this mess? Your head must still be firmly in your ass, and I can’t believe for a minute, I’d been hopeful that you had removed it.”
Jesse flinched at her stinging words and sharp tone laced with frustration, then said, “My head has only ever been in my . . .” When it comes to you.
Her eyebrows dipped, and he felt more fighting words coming for him. “You chose to become a contract killer. You chose taking lives over a life with me.” Her tone was more heartbroken than angry, even though it was clear to him she preferred not to expose the sadness. “Your decision to become a hitman is why we’re here. Not because you left someone alive.” She leaned forward a bit and added, “You screwed up.”
Jesse shut his eyes, unable to look at her as he considered whether or not to defend his job, something he’d never had to do before. But this was Ella, and he needed her to understand. “Someone had to do what I did,” he began calmly. “My job was a necessary evil. Things aren’t always black and white with the Agency. They’re notorious for living in the gray. When diplomacy and military force fails, people like me are sent in to handle matters. The third option.”
She tipped her head as if not quite buying what he was selling. “Is that always the case?”
Zoran. No, she was right about him. “Sometimes the Agency changes the narrative to suit their needs. Zoran was well outside that gray area. We probably shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have gone. Bad guy or not.”
“And now we’re paying the price because of it.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m sorry for a lot more than that though.
“Sorry for what, Jesse? Taking the job in the first place or sorry that you missed your mark?” she challenged.
His shoulders sagged under the weight of remorse and the growing distance he felt forming between them once again. He couldn’t change his past, his time with the CIA, and if he were honest with himself, he wouldn’t want to either. Yes, his time in the Army had taken him away from Ella, but he’d been serving his country, which was something he couldn’t regret. Would she ever be able to separate the two—his service and their time apart? “You should sit.”
“I . . .”
“Sit with Savanna,” he suggested, removing his seat belt. “I’ll walk you there. Don’t want you falling.”
She didn’t fight his offer to help, which was a relief, and she allowed him to hold on to her arms from behind for support as they walked down the aisle toward the front of the cabin.
Savanna looked back and forth between the two of them before gesturing for Ella to sit opposite her and Griffin since there were only two seats per row.
Once Ella was buckled, Jesse shot her one last look, finding she’d tucked her lip between her teeth as if still searching for what to say.
“We’ll be landing soon.” He turned to leave but stilled when she reached out and laid a hand on his arm.
Jesse stared at Ella’s delicate hand, waiting for her to speak.
“When?” she softly asked.
He angled his head. “When what?”
“When were you sent to deal with Zoran? What day?” Her tone had softened a touch now.
Jesse dropped his focus to his boots, but he caught Griffin shifting in his seat, obviously uncomfortable about where this conversation was headed. “June of last year.” He kept it vague, worried she’d put two and two together.
She remained quiet for a moment. “Had you ever failed before that day?”
And yup, she knows. “No.” He took his time working his gaze up her jeaned legs, over her soft pink sweater, and finally to her face.
She gently lifted her palm from his arm, releasing him at that bit of truth. That the man he’d been sent to kill lived because Jesse had been distracted by her impending wedding.
Yes, he should have turned down the job from Thatcher. But in all honesty, maybe he’d taken it because he was so out of his mind about the wedding that he’d wanted to . . . kill. And how fucked up in the head am I for that?
Ella turned her attention to the window, signaling that the conversation was over. He started for the aisle again, catching an apologetic look from Griffin.
“Over here.” Jack motioned to the empty seat next to him a few rows back. “You okay, man?” he asked once Jesse had strapped in next to him, Ella still in his line of sight since she was facing his way.
“I’m . . . as to be expected,” Jesse found himself confessing before drawing his attention to the window. “A strange twenty-four hours.”
“I don’t know,” Jack began, “I’d say it’s been a rather decent trip so far.”
It sounded like they were casually discussing the Louvre or the Eiffel Tower. Not referring to how Sydney had successfully infiltrated a criminal’s compound.
“Too perfect. Well, operationally speaking,” Jesse shared his thoughts. “Don’t you feel like?—”
“Something bad is about to happen?” Jack finished for him. “Yeah, but that’s because statistically speaking, it usually does.”
“Exactly.” He wished he and Jack weren’t on the same page about this. He’d rather attribute the sinking feeling in his gut to anxiety.
“Speaking of bad shit happening . . .” Jack tapped a knuckle on the window. “That’s not a good sign.”
Jesse leaned closer to the window to observe the sea of flashing lights near the runway strip where they were preparing to land.
“Any hope they’re not here for us?” Jack pitched optimistically even as he gave Jesse a look that said, And there’s the other shoe.
Fucking statistics.
“Not a chance they knew we were coming unless someone from the CIA tipped them off,” Carter said when the wheels hit the ground, but he waited to stand until the jet was taxiing at a slower pace. “The only people who are aware we’d be arriving in Paris today are Gray’s dad, the CIA director, and Jesse’s old boss.”
“What about your contact here helping us unload our weapons without notice? They knew we were coming,” Jesse reminded him, and Carter adamantly shook his head as if that were a non-starter.
“Well, no way my dad or the CIA director tipped off the French.” Gray stood and looked out the window at the police cars closing in on the plane.
“You still trust Thatcher?” Carter gruffly tossed out, looking at Jesse as Jesse unbuckled and stood.
Jesse’s gaze cut to Ella, standing alongside Savanna, looks of concern on their faces about the unknown looming before them. The threat at the moment came with a badge.
“Why in the hell would Thatcher alert the authorities we’re here unless . . .” Jesse turned his attention to Carter again, remembering his discussion with Thatcher back at the workshop.
At the time, Jesse had been suspicious about Thatcher’s questions regarding Falcon Falls and his interest in Carter. He wouldn’t put it past his old boss to use Jesse’s access to Carter as a means to grab him. After all, Carter was still a rogue CIA officer. But wouldn’t it have been easier to grab him in Alabama than having the French intercept them at the airport?
“I don’t know how or why they’re here,” Carter said under his breath. “But my alias won’t survive their scrutiny.” He shook his head, eyes out the window closest to him. “Not with her here.”
“Her who?” Gray asked, standing beside Carter.
There appeared to be more than one female among the agents and police officers that circled the plane once it had made a complete stop.
“An MI6 officer who happens to hate me with a passion.” Carter moved away from the window and removed the 9mm from the holster at his side.
“Which officer hates you?” Jack asked. “The hot one in the red coat?” And why didn’t he sound all that worried?
“Shit, the DGSE is also here,” Jesse said at the realization.
“That’s France’s equivalent to the CIA or MI6,” Griffin deciphered for Savanna and Ella.
They’d most likely be going into DGSE custody when the officers found rifles, grenades, and RPGs on board. The team hadn’t exactly planned to declare the weapons at customs.
“Must be the one in the red coat,” Oliver piped up when Carter had yet to speak. “What’d you do to piss her off? An op you worked together go sideways? Or is it the wrath of a woman scorned, and she woke up in bed naked and alone?” Carter glared at Oliver, which didn’t seem to faze the man. “Both it is, then,” Oliver added with a smile, clearly not too concerned about their precarious situation, same as Jack.
But based on Griffin’s and Carter’s tight jawlines, they were thinking the same thing as Jesse. We’re screwed.
“What do we do?” Savanna asked, setting her hands on Griffin’s chest.
“Gray needs to call his old man before we get off this plane so we don’t wind up in a French prison,” Griffin answered as his gaze swerved to Gray heading toward the cockpit.
Hopefully, Gray’s father would be their saving grace as the Secretary of Defense with a direct line to POTUS. Maybe that was why Jack wasn’t worried. He’d worked with Gray a lot longer, and it was possible they’d been in jams before and been bailed out by Gray’s dad.
“I need to call Thatcher before we go into their custody as well,” Jesse said, hating to think the man he’d trusted had set them up for some reason.
“Looks like we don’t have time.” Sydney pointed to the officers approaching the plane, weapons drawn. “They’re not waiting for us. They clearly know we won’t shoot them. Otherwise, they’d never come at us like this.”
Carter looked toward Gray and the pilot talking just outside the cockpit before Gray jerked his thumb toward the cabin door. “Open it.” As the pilot began unlatching the door, Gray turned his attention to the rest of the team. “Everyone unarmed? We don’t want to give them any more reasons to detain us, or worse.”
Just as Jesse reached to remove the Glock at his back, armed officers streamed in through the open door, forcing him to raise his hands in surrender instead.
“The women. Take them,” the first officer to enter quickly barked in English, and Jesse’s heart skipped a few beats. “ Allons-y. Maintenant ,” she added. Let’s go. Now.
“Hell no,” Griffin roared when a man outfitted in all black grabbed Savanna’s arm, but Gray swiftly blocked Griffin’s attempt to stop the officer from taking the woman he loved. “Move, or I will fucking move you,” he hissed, hands planted firmly on Gray’s chest.
“You attack those men, and you’ll never see her,” Gray said in a low voice, quickly swinging his focus Jesse’s way as if sensing his control was also on the brink of snapping too.
Ella now stood with her arms pinned behind her back, being nudged forward by one of the officers, and it took every ounce of Jesse’s control to not do something stupid when she threw him a panicked look.
Jesse quickly maneuvered to the officer who appeared to be in charge. “Where she goes,” Jesse began in a low, raspy tone while angling his head, “I go.”