Chapter 1 #2
All other personnel were to move out of the line of sight of the cameras.
This gave Jasmine the opportunity to slip back into the room with the copper scroll.
When she heard the director shout, “Action,” Jasmine went to work quickly and efficiently, lifting the tops off the glass cases one at a time, wrapping each piece of the copper scroll in a soft swatch of fabric she’d brought in her satchel, handling them carefully so as not to break the fragile copper.
Jasmine placed each piece inside a box she’d designed specifically for transporting the delicate scroll. Once all the pieces were stored, she closed the box and slid it into her satchel.
Taking the extra time, she returned all the tops of the glass cases to their original positions so they wouldn’t draw attention until a museum employee just happened to notice the cases were empty.
That should buy her time to get the items out of the museum and out of Jordan before anyone became suspicious.
With her satchel tucked against her side, Jasmine hurried out of the room. At that moment, the director yelled, “Cut!” He motioned to the film crews and gave orders to the American and Jordanian cameramen.
Some of the Jordanians looked around for their interpreter.
Ready to get the hell out of the museum, Jasmine had no choice but to approach the cameramen and provide the necessary translation for the director.
All the while, her hand rested on her satchel, anxiety mounting.
The longer she stayed in the museum, the greater the chance of someone discovering the copper scroll was missing.
Short of racing out of the building and drawing attention to herself, she remained, forcing a calm expression on her face when inside she was ready to scream. A life depended on her getting out of the museum and delivering the scroll—Eli’s life.
Ace Hammerson—Hammer back in his Navy days—thought he recognized the interpreter as soon as she’d stepped through the museum doors with the Jordanian camera crew. The more he studied her, the more he was convinced it was her.
Jasmine.
The woman with whom he’d spent an amazing week in Athens. A week he could never forget.
Had it really been four years?
Granted, she looked different from the last time he’d seen her.
She’d changed. Her dark hair peeked out from beneath the black scarf she wore over her head and draped around her shoulders.
Her curves were hidden beneath a long black tunic and black trousers.
Her face was a little thinner, but those full, rosy lips and her eyes gave her away.
There was no mistaking the moss green irises that had captivated him from the first time he’d met her at an outdoor café in the Monastiraki district of Athens.
He'd come to Antica Café on a recommendation from a buddy who’d been there a year earlier. The place had been packed, with no empty tables left. Tired and hungry after the twenty-hour journey from San Diego to Athens, he’d just wanted to eat, find his hotel and crash.
Rather than look for a less crowded café, he’d looked for an empty seat. A beautiful woman sat in a far corner, a book in her hand, enjoying a cup of expresso. Ace had approached, hoping she wouldn’t blow him off, and asked if she spoke English.
She’d looked up at him with those amazing green eyes and smiled. In that moment, he’d felt a stirring combination of lust, longing and... strangely...homecoming wash over him. It could have been exhaustion, but more than hunger made him want to join this woman at her table.
She spoke English with a charming accent he couldn’t place as either Greek or Arabic. When he’d asked if he could share her table, she’d tilted her head and stared at him with slightly narrowed eyes before finally agreeing with a relaxed smile.
That had been the beginning of the most incredible week of his life.
His only regret was that he’d had to go back to work after that week.
Before he’d had time to look her up, based on the phone number she’d given him, he’d deployed for several months to Afghanistan, where the mission had been so secret, they’d gone incommunicado to avoid any leaks.
By the time he’d returned to his home base, her number had been disconnected.
He hadn’t known where to begin looking for her. In all their conversations, she’d barely revealed much about her life other than both her parents were dead, having been killed in a Hamas strike in Israel.
Because of her reference to her parents being killed in a Hamas strike, he’d assumed she was from Israel. She’d talked about her mother having been from Greece and her father from Israel. Like him, her father had been on vacation in Athens when he’d met her.
Ace had searched for her online, hoping to find out something about her whereabouts, but failed miserably.
On his next vacation, he’d gone back to Greece, to the same restaurant where they’d met, hoping by some strange coincidence he’d find her there.
He’d walked the same paths they’d walked through the city, looking for her.
He’d stayed in the same hotel where they’d stayed, even insisting on the same room.
She hadn’t been there. He’d gone to Tel Aviv and talked with some acquaintances he’d met during joint training exercises with the Israeli military. They hadn’t heard of her.
As many people as there were in Israel, Ace hadn’t expected to find her just by asking around. But he’d hoped that the same magic that had brought them together the first time would help him find her again. After a year, he’d admitted defeat and tried to forget her.
That had never happened. Every woman he’d dated after Jasmine had never sparked in him the fire and desire he’d felt with the woman he’d met in Athens.
Now, here he was, freshly out of the military, working with Hank Patterson and his team of Brotherhood Protectors in Amman, Jordan. Nowhere near Athens and four years after that fated affair, she walked back into his life.
New to the Brotherhood Protectors, Ace had agreed to accompany Hank and members of his team to Jordan to provide security for the film crew and actors who were friends of Hank’s wife, Sadie McClain, on her latest movie set. He’d be an extra, there to observe one of the team’s assignments.
They didn’t always provide security for film crews, but since significant unrest existed in the countries surrounding the relatively stable Jordan, the film producers and studio had budgeted for a staff of security specialists.
Hank had worked with the studio and cut them a deal to ensure his people provided security for his wife and the crew there to make movie magic.
Brotherhood Protectors were the most qualified to provide the safety net they might need if fighting spilled over the borders from countries surrounding Jordan.
Though he’d been excited and curious about the mechanics of making a movie, Ace’s attention had shifted the moment Jasmine entered the museum.
His gaze followed her as she moved among the Jordanian film crew, standing between Americans and Jordanians, interpreting instructions when needed.
As the camera crew set up, Jasmine left them to wander around the museum, looking at ancient artifacts on display. At one point, she disappeared into a side room and remained gone for several minutes.
Ace started to follow when Hank approached him. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”
Ace nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Hank grinned. “I never imagined the amount of people it takes to produce a film until I accompanied Sadie on set for the first time.”
Though Ace would rather focus his attention on Jasmine’s movements, he gave his new boss all his attention. “I never realized there was so much involved.”
“Right? It takes an incredible amount of coordination to set up a gig like this, from securing a location to getting permission, in this case, from the government to film here, to transporting all the equipment. Not to mention hiring people to do all aspects, including lighting, sound, video, makeup and costumes.”
Ace’s gaze remained on the door through which Jasmine had disappeared. “And that’s just the filming,” he commented, mentally counting the seconds Jasmine was out of his sight.
Then, she emerged from the room and rejoined her camera crew.
Ace let go of the breath he’d been holding.
Hank continued the conversation Ace had lost track of.
“After the filming, there’s the editing, music, marketing and more.
” The former Navy SEAL shook his head, his lips forming a wry smile.
“I have so much more respect for all those names that scroll across the screen in the movie theater when they show the credits.” He chuckled.
“I always wondered, and now I know, what a key grip is.”
Jasmine worked with the cameramen once more, then stepped back into the shadows.
Once the cameramen were in place, the lighting guy gave a thumbs-up. The director nodded, spoke with Sadie and then stepped back.
“They’re about to start filming,” Hank said.
When the director raised a hand, everyone grew quiet.
The director looked around at the placement of the cameras, Sadie and the lighting, then nodded.
Ace felt as though everyone took a collective breath, waiting for it...
“Action!” the director called out.
Ace’s attention was divided between Jasmine, the actors, the cameramen and the supporting staff.
The beautiful, blond actress, Sadie McClain, did not command his attention like Jasmine.
Sure, Sadie was gorgeous, dressed in khaki slacks that hugged her hips, boots up to her knees and a flowing white blouse tucked into the narrow waistband of her trousers.
Her mane of golden hair had been styled into a natural wind-swept look with loose waves falling to her shoulders. She worked her way through the museum corridor, pretending to be a patron until she arrived at a golden statue encased in a glass box.