Chapter Nineteen #2
Leaning down, he kissed her softly on the mouth, far too aware that he might not get another chance.
With an urgent sound, she dropped her bag and gripped the back of his head, tugging him closer.
He wanted desperately to drink her in, to memorize the feel of her hip beneath his palm, her one-of-a-kind scent, the little humming sound she made when he nipped at her lower lip. He didn’t want to stop.
“Hel-lo,” the flight attendant said.
Feeling his face flame, Ford broke the kiss and looked up.
Nat huffed and turned toward the door too.
But the attendant wasn’t looking at either of them.
His attention was laser focused on the tall Black man wearing a gray “Go ’Hoos” tee, who had to duck and turn slightly sideways to get his shoulders through the doorway.
“Jason!” Natalie’s voice had turned thin and squeaky in a way that Ford didn’t like at all. She gave a self-conscious laugh. “Hi.”
So this was the famous Jason Chin. Ford wanted to hate him on sight, but the man had saved Natalie’s life, and his grin was too big and friendly.
“You look much better than the last time I saw you.” Jason leaned in for a quick hug.
She pulled away, her cheeks bright pink, and now Ford hated him. “Thanks to you,” she said.
Jason scowled and tugged at his hair. “Not sure about that. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for leaving you behind.”
A little hand wave absolved him. “Pretty sure I embarrassed myself so much that I gave you no choice.”
If Ford wasn’t mistaken, the big man’s cheeks had darkened. What. The. Actual. Fuck? He stepped forward with his hand out. “Ford Beaumont. Nice to meet you in person.” They’d talked on the phone to plan this homecoming, but had never crossed paths in the field before.
Jason gave him a firm handshake, no macho bullshit, and a genuine smile. “Jason Chin.” He nodded toward the nose of the plane. “Thanks to your quick thinking, there are some really happy people in that terminal right now.”
Ford nodded. He wanted to be one of them, but all he felt was dread.
Two hours after landing, Natalie locked herself into the tiny bathroom of her West LA apartment, put her back to the door, and took a deep breath. Her parents had been hovering nonstop, alternating between elation and disbelief at her reappearance, and agony over Erik’s disappearance.
Somehow in the month she’d been gone, they hadn’t managed to do anything with her apartment. They’d even paid the rent to put off having to go through her things. It was so heartbreaking she couldn’t even let herself think about it, except to be grateful she wouldn’t have to start from scratch.
Finally, a few minutes ago, after a takeout dinner that everyone had picked at with little enthusiasm, she’d convinced them to return to their safe house with the guards from their security team.
She rubbed at her tired eyes. Whoever had taken Erik hadn’t been in touch since the note to Emma on Wednesday. So much could’ve happened in the last four days. Too much.
Natalie itched with the need to do something.
What was the motherfucker who’d taken her brother waiting for?
He had to know she was back on US soil by now.
Despite the private flight home—a decadent way to travel that she wouldn’t mind repeating—her itinerary hadn’t been a secret.
Why hadn’t she heard from the kidnappers?
Her nerves had frayed like a cheap sweater and she didn’t know how to distract herself.
She wouldn’t go off half-cocked, but she needed to do something, find some way to bring her brother home safe.
Preferably without taking a bullet herself—again.
The impatient part of her urged drastic action to get her enemy’s attention. To end this nightmare.
As if worried she’d do just that, Ford had been sticking close since they landed, smothering her almost as much as her guilt. Grateful as she was for his calming presence and his protection, if he didn’t ease up she might have to kick him out.
Maybe if she took him to bed soon he’d relax a little. Heaven knew she could use the distraction, and she preferred when he looked at her like dessert instead of a potential flight risk.
A knock on the door at back her startled her upright.
“You okay?” Ford asked through the door, his voice low and serious.
Pressing a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart, she had to laugh at herself so she wouldn’t cry. “I’m fine. Don’t worry, there’s no window in here.”
“Nat, I didn’t think—”
“Kidding!” She splashed some water on her face. “I’ll be right out.”
A minute later, she opened the door and straightened her shoulders.
You’re fine. At the far end of the room, beyond the velvety green couch Nat had bought only a month before the Lucerne trip, Emma stood in the dining room, clutching a mug, secure beneath the protective drape of Jason’s arm.
The pair chatted with Ford in low tones.
Natalie had escaped to the bathroom to get away from the depressingly somber vibe, but now she felt irrationally left out, excluded from her own homecoming, and laden with guilt for her role in Erik’s disappearance.
In Marseille she’d been able to block it out somewhat because there’d been nothing she could do for her brother.
Being back home, though, made the situation impossible to ignore.
Emma looked up and caught Natalie watching.
Her dark hair skimmed her shoulders playfully as she disengaged from Jason’s hold and crossed the living room.
The toll of the last few weeks showed in her gaunt cheeks and the faint shadows under her eyes, but she also glowed.
“Hey.” She rested a palm on Nat’s good shoulder.
“I probably sound like a broken record right now, but it’s so good to see you. How are you holding up?”
Before Nat could respond, Emma frowned and pulled a cell phone from her back pocket. Her brow furrowed and she tugged Natalie into the corner near the front door. Dropping her voice to a whisper, she said, “It’s from them.”
Natalie’s pulse pounded in her ears. “Another email?”
Emma shook her head. “Text.” Face somber, she turned her back to the room and held the screen so Nat could read it.
Redondo Pier. Tables on the northwest corner. 1 hour. Alone. We’re watching.
“I have to go.”
Emma shook her head. “When Price grabbed me, he admitted that his team attacked us in Lucerne. But he’s out of the picture, so if someone’s been after you this whole time, that means he wasn’t working alone.
” She scoffed and shook her head. “He called himself Saber. Like he was part of some ridiculous club with secret code names and everything. Clearly there are more of them. If this is Wallace or someone else, either way, they’re dangerous.
You can’t just run off without a plan. Or at least a little recon. ”
“I didn’t mean I’d walk out the door in the next two seconds.
” Nat couldn’t hide her disappointment. For once it’d be nice if someone didn’t think she was too impulsive.
Yes, she often acted quickly, but she was also good at sizing up and adapting to the situation on the fly.
She operated on instinct and it usually served her well.
“But, also, I only have—” she glanced at her watch “—fifty-eight minutes to get to Redondo Beach. I haven’t been there in ages, but I’m pretty sure it’ll take me nearly that long to drive there, park, and walk out onto the pier. ”
“You rushing off unprepared is clearly the goal.”
“I get that.” Nat opened the map app on her new phone.
Instead of the standard I-shaped structure, Redondo’s pier was more like a large triangle with its tip pointing west into the water and a smaller triangle resting on its southern slope.
That meant two ways in—and out—but also two exits for her and any backup to cover.
Plus, the extra triangle created a third direction to run, even if it linked back up with one of the main paths eventually.
There were also shops and restaurants, and even a police substation.
Honestly, an odd choice for a meetup, though parking was easy and—she looked it up—the pier stayed open overnight.
“You have a whole team here who can help,” Emma said. “Five minutes is worth decreasing your chance of getting hurt. And Erik’s. They want something from you. If you’re a few minutes late, they’ll wait. They’re trying to rush you to keep the advantage.”
Nat balked at risking the kidnapper’s wrath, but couldn’t fault her friend’s logic. She sighed and waved a hand impatiently, jittery with the need to get moving. “I agree. So let’s hurry the fuck up and make a plan.”
Ford’s neck started prickling when Emma held out her phone to Nat, whose body turned rigid. Forgetting whatever he and Jason were talking about, he stood and skirted the sofa to slide an arm around Nat’s waist. “What’s up?”
Emma held up the phone for him and Jason—who’d followed him over—to read the message.
Dammit. Ford’s entire body tightened. There would be no talking her out of this, but he had to try. “Would you consider letting someone else go in your place?”
Nat shook her head, mouth pursed. “This is my fault and my job. I don’t want to worry about anyone else in harm’s way.
” She gave him an uncharacteristically stern look.
“That includes you. No hiding in my trunk or following me to the pier. I’m not taking any chances with my brother’s life. Or yours.”
Without dropping her gaze, he said, “Jason. You have anyone available to support on overwatch?”
“On it.” Jason stepped away and started tapping on his phone.
Nat opened her mouth and Ford cut her off. “I’ll make sure they understand the assignment. I will not put you at further risk, but I’ll be damned if I let you go in there without backup.”
She blinked and rolled her lips between her teeth. “Okay. Good.”
“Hang on.” Emma walked away.
Ford turned and pulled Nat into his embrace. “I fucking hate this, but I’m not going to try to stop you.”
“Thank you.” She gripped him so hard he almost couldn’t breathe.
He closed his eyes and gave himself a few seconds to savor the feel of her in his arms. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Leaning back, he held her sweet face and kissed her hard. “You fucking come back to me.”
A tear slipped down her cheek. “That’s the plan,” she said with forced levity.
He gave her the smile he knew she wanted, but his heart thrashed in protest like a caged beast.
Emma returned and held out her palm to show them what looked like an oversized jellybean. “Take this tracker.”
In two minutes they cobbled together a very loose plan, mainly consisting of the tracking device and the last-minute enlistment of a half-dozen of Steele’s security specialists who were available to join Ford, Jason, and Emma in providing backup.
Ford hated it. There were too many variables. Too many things that could go wrong. Not enough time to prepare for contingencies. Even if the plan had somehow been airtight though, the worst part was Natalie smack dab in the middle of it, all by herself.
Just as the kidnapper had demanded.
These men had deep pockets and no scruples. And they’d had plenty of time to set things up to their advantage. Ford didn’t want her anywhere near them. He also had no choice in the matter.
Standing at the door, tears streamed down her cheeks. “If I don’t go now and something happens to Erik, I’ll never forgive myself.” She held his gaze, determination in her eyes. “I know you understand that.”
The hell of it was, he did. In her shoes, he’d be rushing off right now too.
“Fuck.” He kissed her hard and much too fast, and then…let her walk out the door alone, taking his heart with her.