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I looked at Derek, armed to the teeth and ready to fight for me. And love, an emotion I hid from most of my life, swelled within me. I loved him. It was that simple, and that complicated. He should have a better woman than me, but now that I had him, I wasn’t letting go.
The ding of the fasten seat belt alarm cut through my thoughts of love and set free an army of nervous hornets in my belly.
I was about to sell out Uncle Jimmy.
Everyone else who’d tried was dead. Fear, not only for myself but for Derek and the others, threatened to erode my confidence. Shit. Now wasn’t the time or place to second-guess. We had a mission.
As if sensing my unease, Derek tangled the fingers of my free hand in his. He lifted our hands and kissed the back of mine. “Love you,” he said softly.
“Love you too.” And despite everything, my heart sang. It was an upbeat pop song of happiness trying to burst out. I longed to crawl into his lap and kiss him senseless. It only lasted a moment, but it was a wonderful moment in a day that threatened to be a nightmare.
The plane touched down. When we rolled to a stop, Derek stood and held out his hand for mine. “You ready?”
No, I wasn’t ready, but that didn’t change the fact that we were doing this. Jimmy deserved to go down in flames. Buying and selling humans was abhorrent. And I wanted a new life, one without fear. One where Derek could be proud of the woman he loved.
“How do I look?” I countered instead of voicing my fears. I smoothed my form-fitting white dress.
“Like a queen.” Derek kissed my hand and then my lips. “Like my gorgeous queen.”
“Ravishing,” Steel said with a firm nod.
“Like a boss bitch.” Noah shot me a thumbs-up.
“Spectacular,” added Damon Brooks from the back.
I looked at them. They were my guards. The reality that these men were risking their lives for me was humbling. I squeezed Derek’s hand. Today would hopefully be the first day of my new life.
I was ready. Maybe…
“Perfect.” John stepped forward and held out a lightweight, knee-length white coat that he draped over my shoulders. An added bit of drama to my already striking outfit of slim white dress, chunky gold jewelry, and sky-high heels. John wore an impeccable gray suit, the same color as his eyes.
John’s quiet comment stood in stark contrast to the jovial remarks of the rest of the guys. His eyes held a reptilian gleam that made everything Derek had said about John’s past at the CIA utterly believable. He was a calculating and scary man when he let you see behind the mask. I could easily imagine John Smith slipping a blade between a foe’s ribs and smiling as his victim bled out in front of him.
I was glad he’d be next to me, facing Jimmy while Derek had our backs. It felt fantastic not to be alone. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had people on my side.
“As soon as we step off this plane, assume Jimmy’s people have eyes on us,” Derek said to the team. “We’re about twelve miles from the farmhouse. It will be a quick drive. He won’t let us arrive unescorted.” His expression had hardened. He was all soldier, from the cool glint in his eyes to the efficient way he moved as he and Steel turned and exited the plane. It was like he’d put on a second skin—a new badass shell.
John offered me his arm, laying a reassuring hand over mine. I looked at him with what I hoped was a determined and serene expression. I called Onyx to heel as we exited. A pair of black Range Rovers with dark tint idled on the edge of the runway. Noah and Damon stood guard while Derek and Steel loaded up the SUVs with gear cases full of God knows what.
When John and I approached the back door, Derek was quick to open it for us. Under his breath, so only I could hear, he whispered, “You got this.”
I hoped he was right.
I slid into the back seat with John, and Derek loaded Onyx into the rear. The dog, like my outfit and the guys’ excessive weaponry, was all part of the show. Today was pure theater. We had to convince Jimmy I was trying to move up in the world of crime long enough to get him alone and tell him what was really going on. If Tony had turned on the old man, everyone in Jimmy’s organization was suspect.
The ride from the airstrip to Jimmy’s farmhouse was tense. I remembered the back roads. I’d been out here with Tony every weekend for family dinners until I left him. The memories unearthed by the drive were a confusing mix of nostalgia and pain.
“We’ve got a tail,” Steel said, catching my eye in the rearview mirror.
“As we expected,” John replied, patting the back of my hand where it rested on the white leather seat between us.
“He’s been back there since we turned on the state highway,” Derek added.
I pressed a hand to my stomach, fighting back nausea.
Derek twisted a hand back between the front seats and held out a wrapped two-pack of saltine crackers. I took it and busied myself with opening and slowly eating one. Amid all this, him feeding me the crackers was above and beyond. A single gesture that spoke of so much love. Forget roses and champagne, I was gutted over a stupid saltine.
Too soon we were turning between the wrought-iron gates and rock wall at the entrance to Jimmy’s property. It looked exactly like I remembered. The Range Rover bounced over the rutted road and toward the big gray pile of stone that Jimmy called home. It was a sprawling 1800s farmhouse with a slate roof, surrounded by a picturesque apple orchard.
