Chapter 22
OLIVIA
After Ethan left, I ordered dinner and forced myself to stay awake.
Fletcher appeared with new clothes and a box of hair color.
It wasn’t until he’d gone that I discovered the instructions were in German.
It was a luxury hotel, though, and a phone call to the front desk solved the problem.
The female concierge was charming and helpful, offering to do it for me when she saw the angry cut on my hand.
When it was done and the concierge excused herself, I took a hard look at my new golden-brown locks. You’ve done this before, you can do it again.
I pulled Ethan’s white t-shirt from the backpack, changed into it, and somehow the phone found its way into my hand. I stared at the contact. Unfinished Business. What was I doing? What was this . . . feeling? I shoved the phone back into the bag.
My spent emotions and jetlag crushed me onto the mattress, and thankfully it was a dreamless sleep.
In the morning, I rode to the Osterh?gen plant in a town car, was ushered into an empty conference room, and thirty seconds later a man sauntered in.
“Ms. Wallace? I’m Jason Dunn.”
“Olivia,” I said.
This was the cop from the picture with the ballerina. He wasn’t as tall as his brother Shawn, but he was built like a wall. And while his suit fit him, it didn’t match the body wearing it. Dark, no-nonsense eyes and a hard jaw covered with a few days of scruff, and a hint of aggression.
What struck me immediately was how much more American he seemed than Shawn. No German accent. He was a less refined version of his brother. This was the style of man I usually preferred, but Jason lacked the intense eyes and the intrigue of a much taller one I knew.
When we shook hands, Jason’s lingered a moment too long. “Where do I know you from?”
My breathing quickened. “I get that a lot. I must have one of those faces that looks like someone everyone knows.”
That had to go down as the worst lie in history, but he seemed satisfied.
There was a secondary, smaller jet in the Osterh?gen fleet, an older Hawker the company used whenever the Gulfstream was transporting clients or on loan to a board member.
“Your situation’s temporary,” he said, “and I know you need to keep a low profile, but there’ll be a lot of international guests attending Shawn’s wedding. I can put you into rotation with the Osterh?gen flight crew if you’re interested.”
Pleasant surprise washed over me and I nodded enthusiastically. Then I paused. “As long as it’s safe for everyone.”
He used the pad of his thumb to absentmindedly spin the wedding ring on his finger. “You’ll be abroad or in the air more than you’ll be in Munich. That’s what Ethan and I figure.”
“You talked to Ethan?” It came out sounding far much more interested than I wanted it to, and I fought the urge to cringe in embarrassment.
Jason looked surprised. “It was a short conversation. I don’t think he was able to talk long.
” He stood. “I’ll take you down to HR, and they’ll get you started on paperwork.
I think Shawn’s assistant has secured your work visa already.
” A thick, business-sized envelope was pulled from the interior pocket of his jacket and set on the table beside me.
“This is to get you through the next few weeks. Let me know if you need more.”
Inside the envelope was a stack of euros. I shoved it aggressively back toward him. “I can’t accept this.”
“That’s not negotiable, soldier.” He breezed out the glass door and waited for me to follow.
I clenched the envelope so tight, the sides dug into my skin as I trailed behind him. “How did you know?”
“I smell military all over you,” he said while moving at a quick clip. “I was with the Thirty-First Infantry.”
Oh. No.