Crusher’s lips quirked upward, glad she hadn’t taken him too seriously when he’d fooled her about the truck’s rear door. In truth, he hadn’t been one hundred percent sure it would open when he was ready. He hadn’t been too concerned as long as the cartel hadn’t followed them.
Marta settled back in her seat and spent the rest of the flight in silence.
Crusher did the same, taking the opportunity to close his eyes for a power nap, not knowing what to expect when they arrived in Panama. He’d contact Royce once they arrived in Panama City. Royce would fill him in on where to head next. He hoped they’d have time to sleep before heading out again. He was tired, but Marta had to be beyond exhausted if the dark circles under her eyes were any indication.
The shower and clean clothing had done a lot to make her appear happier.
He’d make sure she had time to regroup, get clothing that fit and sleep before they made the next jump to Miami.
Miami.
He understood Marta’s trepidation over being handed over to the government. Even if the administration hadn’t fired everyone with any knowledge, working with the government meant wading through red tape and bureaucracy. From what she’d said about the pathogen, they didn’t have a lot of time.
Antivirals took a long time and extensive testing to develop. Twenty days didn’t seem adequate.
All the more reason to get her somewhere she could focus. The more Crusher thought about it, the less he thought handing her off to Devon would work.
But then Devon had hired SOS to bring Dr. Hale back to the States. To complete his mission, he had to deliver her to Devon Marsh.
The power nap he’d hoped to get didn’t happen. Not with potential scenarios swirling around inside his head and a sense of pending doom clouding his thoughts. Being cooped up on a plane didn’t help. He needed to move, needed action to push through the danger and deliver Marta to a safe location.
Trouble was, he wasn’t convinced Miami was the safest place for her. Nor was she handed over to the State Department. Working with Devon Marsh in the past didn’t assure him that the government would make the best use of Marta’s knowledge and abilities. Typical bureaucracy moved, at best, at a glacial pace. They didn’t have time for that. Marta wouldn’t go for that.
Crusher pulled out his satellite phone and texted Royce.
Crusher: Initiated Plan B. En route to safe house.
Royce: Roger. Will alert the welcoming committee.
Crusher nodded. More of Royce’s contacts had security assets in Panama. They hired out to visiting celebrities and wealthy individuals who wanted enhanced safety while visiting the country.
Royce texted the coordinates to Crusher.
After they landed and taxied to a stop at the general aviation section of the airport that serviced Panama City, an SUV appeared and drove across the tarmac straight for the plane.
Crusher tensed.
“That will be the rental car Royce sent for,” Slater said.
When the vehicle came to a stop next to the plane, the driver got out and jogged back to the facility.
Crusher released the breath he’d held. He wasn’t sure what they could have done had the driver attacked them.
Slater tossed baseball caps to Crusher and Marta. Across the front was a logo for a coffee brand.
“Your brand?” Crusher asked.
“No,” Slater said. “Just some swag from a coffee company that wanted to buy our beans. You could use them to help with your disguise.”
“Thanks,” Marta said and pulled her auburn hair up into a knot and stuffed it into the cap.
Wearing the oversized coverall, with her hair secured in the cap, Marta’s green eyes flashed, and she grinned. “No one would mistake me for an epidemiologist in this outfit.”
Crusher’s groin tightened. She wasn’t his usual type, but she had an undeniable pull on him. Something he’d have to get over. Marta was the asset. The mission. Nothing else. And soon, he’d hand her over to Devon. Mission complete.
Only he didn’t think he’d forget her anytime soon. She might be more at home in a lab, but she’d proven resilient in the jungle, and she hadn’t complained, even when the injury on her wrist had given her a considerable amount of pain. The fact that she felt responsible for the lives of so many put her in a class all by itself. Not only did she care, but she also had the knowledge and training to do something about it, given a chance. Marta Hale was more beautiful in a subtle, deeper way than any other woman he’d ever spent more than a night with. His admiration for the woman had grown exponentially since he’d found her cuffed to a table in the compound, challenging his reason for being there.
Crusher lowered the steps and descended to the tarmac, his gaze scanning the buildings and rooftops. When he was satisfied there was no imminent danger, he turned and helped Marta out of the plane and onto the ground. His arm came up around her, naturally protective.
