“You’re... you’re coming back?” Why the hell did my pulse quicken at the idea of that?
“That’s the plan. I’ll see you soon.”
“Ethan, wait.” I wasn’t really sure what to say next, but the words spilled from me just as unsteadily as I felt. “I’m sorry about what I did on the plane.”
There was no response. Had I not caught him in time?
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” he replied, his voice hushed.
It only made me feel more out of control. “Thank you,” I matched his low voice, “for saving my life.”
“You’re welcome. Stay safe.”
The call ended immediately, but I remained still, the phone pressed to my ear. What had just happened? I’d been so angry at him for leaving, and yet I was relieved to know I’d see him again.
When I went to pass the phone back, Fletcher shook his head. “It’s yours. His number’s programmed.”
There was only one number in the contacts list, and I felt both weightless and heavy when I read the name.Unfinished Business. My face heated.
The drive to the airport seemed shorter from this back seat. Again, I kept my head down since I was supposed to be dead.
There was a Gulfstream parked outside the hangar, only a few years old and in excellent condition. Nicer, faster, slicker than Vitale’s Bombardier. We didn’t linger in the car. Fletcher led me up the metal stairs and into the safety of the cabin.
The interior of the plane was nicer than the Bombardier, too. Captain chairs in white leather and rich mahogany panels that wrapped around the galley and obscured the attendant from passenger view. A large desk sat mid-plane, and in the rear there was a sliding couch for when passengers wanted to sleep.
I wouldn’t have minded a peek at the cockpit and a chance to talk shop with the pilots, but I didn’t want to bother them. This wasn’t my plane; it was theirs. Not to mention, I needed some damn answers from the Englishman.
A pretty, young woman in a uniform came out of the attendant station and smiled.“Guten Tag.”
“We’ll use English if you don’t mind, Victoria,” Fletcher said. “Can you serve lunch before we depart?”
The cabin attendant nodded and swished away in her pencil skirt.
“Explain,” I said, “what you meant about Ethan’s actions speaking volumes.”
He took a seat and pointed to one for me. “This is rather out of character for him. Quite shocking, really.”
The frustration swelled inside me. “Out with it already.”
“Risking his cover that took fucking months to build, to get you out? Brilliantly stupid. And now, tucking you away in Munich, when you should be on the first flight back to America.” His blue eyes filled with amusement. “You’ve heard my theory about his motive.”
My gaze fell to the phone in my hand, the contact name repeated in my mind. I didn’t want to admit to myself that excitement had flashed through me. I glanced away, focusing in on a logo on one of the TV screens.Osterhägen Beverage.
Oh. My. God.
That was why the name was familiar. The press coverage of the CEO of Osterhägen had faded from the news cycle, but it had been a huge story when it happened. The brewery bombing. The American hostage.Thiswas Ethan’s friend?
“How do you know Shawn Dunn?” I asked.
“I was part of the team that rescued his fiancée.”
Holy shit. “Was Ethan on the team, too? Is that how you two met?”
“He was the one who got her out of the house, but no, that’s not how we met.” Fletcher’s head tilted with an evaluating look. “Tell me, what happened between the two of you in South Africa?”
I pressed my lips together, not sure if I should answer.
“How about an exchange of information?” he suggested. “I have the sense we’re both rather curious about the other.”
