Mia was still in the rear of the plane when Luke donned the headset and called Garth. She was riled, but he couldn’t deal with that now.

“Talk to me.” More gravelly than usual, the CO’s voice rumbled in the headphones. But then it was nine p.m. Mountain Time, which meant three in the morning in Iceland.

Luke explained about the Zambada attack and his hasty getaway. There was no use standing and fighting when they were outnumbered, and he had the perfect excuse of needing to take Mia away before she fell into the hands of those monsters. El Padrino may have thought he’d insulated himself by killing his family but a man only had to listen to The Godfather talk to realize he was insanely jealous about Mia. His bloody pet.

“It’s about time Zambada made a move.” Garth sounded like he was waking up. “I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.”

“Yeah, but I thought we’d have more forewarning. Morales’ enemies have never attacked Hacienda Paraiso in the past because it’s surrounded by allies.”

“You ever met a poor farmer who couldn’t be bought?”

“I suppose not, sir.” Luke tapped the fuel gauge. “The problem is I have about enough fuel to make it to the border if I fly due north. That’ll put me in New Mexico. Any place we can land that won’t draw attention from the Feds?”

“Give me a minute to make my way up to the Command Center. What’s your estimated flight time?”

“Three hours, ten minutes.” Luke glanced to the door. Odd—Mia was keeping to herself. “Do you have an update on the op?”

“Busted up three more shipments. We’re in the process of freezing the bank accounts on your filly’s list. Let me tell you, she’s worth her weight in gold.”

The cockpit door opened, and the woman herself moved inside. Looking back, Luke’s gut twisted. He should have known she’d be shell-shocked. By the expression on her face, she was crashing hard.

“Roger that, boss. I’ll wait for your instructions for landing. Over and out.” Trying to smile, he gestured toward the co-pilot seat. “Ever sat up front in a plane before?” he asked, hoping the new experience would help her snap out of it.

“No.” She slid into the seat and crossed her arms, rubbing her hands up and down.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

Luke chewed his bottom lip. Hell, he knew the temperature had nothing to do with her despondence. “Strap yourself in. You can see the curve of the world from this vantage point.”

“I can’t see much of anything in the dark.”

He nodded, though he always could see the arc of the earth regardless if it was day or night. “I expect we’ll touch down in about three hours.”

“Where?”

“I’m waiting on clearance to enter U.S. airspace.”

“U.S.?” she asked, sounding alarmed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I don’t know if I should be going there.”

“Is there someone looking for you?”

“I don’t think so.”

Jeez, she wasn’t making any sense.

Her shoulders curled forward. “I don’t have a passport or anything.”

“How about a last name?” he hedged.

In a heartbeat, the girl’s eyes filled with fear. “Nope. Don’t have one of those either.”

“No worries. She’ll be right. Mark me.”

Nodding, Mia sat for a time with her arms still crossed. She had to be decompressing and if she was anything like Luke’s mates in the RAAF, she needed time. The best thing he could do? Keep his mouth shut and fly the plane.

“I’m hungry,” she said after about twenty minutes passed.

Well, that was a good sign. Luke’s stomach growled on cue. Neither one of them had eaten dinner. “There might be some tucker back in the galley—maybe some bottles of water in the fridge.”

She wandered away just as Garth’s voice came through the headphones. “The nearest U.S. town with an airport is Las Cruces, New Mexico. Border patrol is pretty active there.”

“Roger that. Mia doesn’t have a passport—or a last name.”

“That’ll make it tough. You’re no problem because you’re in the system.”

“Can she claim political asylum or something?”

“Yeah, but she still needs papers.”

“How fast can you drum up a fake ID for her?”

“Asa’s already on it—let’s go with Mia Smith. Airspace is clear. Authorities are notified.”

“Ripper, boss. Sounds like a plan.”

“CO, over and out.”

Mia stepped in the cockpit with two water bottles and a bag of cacahuates Japonéses—peanuts with a hard, savory coating. Though called Japanese peanuts, the snacks were uniquely Mexican, found in every convenience store south of the border. “Water and nuts,” she said.

“No beer?” he asked.

“When you’re flying?”

“The beer’s for you. Thought it might help you relax.”

She handed him a bottle of water and slid back into the co-pilot’s seat. “You want some peanuts?”

He held out his hand. “Please.”

“I don’t need to relax,” she said, pouring them into his palm.

“Beauty.” He popped the handful into his mouth. No point in arguing.

***

As expected, air traffic control in Las Cruces was expecting the Gulfstream and they landed the jet without any holdups. Luke figured everything would be routine. It was, until they were met by customs.

“What is the origin of this flight?” asked an officer as soon as Luke disembarked. A K-9 unit including two German Shepherds and a half-dozen uniformed officers stood behind him.

“That should have been in our flight plan, sir—Central Mexico. I’m afraid I cannot disclose any more than that.”

Frowning, the officer eyed Luke with a distrustful glint in his eye. “Do you have any food, cash or drugs?”

“No, sir.”

“There are peanuts on board,” said Mia.

“Anything else to declare?”

Luke spread his palms. “What you see is what you get.”

“We’ll see about that.” The officer motioned for the K-9 unit to board the Gulfstream, the dogs walked past them without raising an alarm. At least they’d passed the most critical test. “I’ll need to have a look at your passports and you’ll have to fill out a custom’s declaration.”

Grinding his molars, Luke followed. He knew full well Garth had sent ahead an order for diplomatic immunity. They probably knew Mia didn’t have a passport as well.

They were led inside to a stark white room with a single, one-way window. There was a rectangular table in the center—the folding type, and four metal chairs, two on each side. Along one wall were stacks of forms and pens. Up by the ceiling, security cameras pointed at them from all four corners.

“Sit,” said the officer as he grabbed forms. “Passports.”

Luke fished his out of his pocket and slapped it on the table. “Mia doesn’t have a passport. But you’re aware of that, aren’t you?”

The humorless man shifted his steely gaze toward her. “Why don’t you have a passport, miss?”

Mia looked like she’d just been hit by a stun gun. “I-I—”

“We left in a hurry. There was no time.” Luke craned his neck and glared at the window, hoping someone with an iota of sense was watching. “Did you receive the directive?”

“We did, but Border Patrol still has a responsibility to ensure we’re not allowing criminals and terrorists to cross into the United States of America.”

“Hey, we’re on the same side, mate.” Luke pushed the panic buttons on his ICE watch. If this guy kept up with his badass sergeant imitation, they both might end up spending the night in the pen.

“Yeah?” The man picked up Luke’s passport and thumbed through it. “You’re an Australian. I could detain you just for that.”

“Bloody hell.” Luke picked up a pen and nodded to Mia. “Fill it out as best you can.”

The man opened the door and gave Luke’s passport to someone outside. “Run a background check on this.” When he returned, he sat, leaning back in the chair with his arms crossed.

Mia signed her paperwork and slid it across the table.

Snatching it up, the man frowned and shook his head like his life’s quest was to annoy the hell out of people fleeing Mexico in the middle of the night. “Where did you come from?”

Luke leaned forward on his elbows. “I said—”

“I asked Miss Smith.” The jerk again shifted his gaze to Mia, staring her down like she was the Unabomber. “Miss?”

“I wrote it on the card,” she said. “Guadalupe y Calvo.”

“You were born in the United States?”

“Yes, sir. C-California.” She said it like she wasn’t certain.

“Are you sure of that?” he asked, running his fingers over the strap that locked his sidearm in place.

She nodded.

“Then that makes you a United States citizen.”

Though Mia said nothing, she looked at Luke, her eyes betraying her fear.

“How long have you been in Guadalupe y Calvo?”

“Nine years.”

“That’s a long time for someone who’s only…” He held up the paper then looked toward the ceiling as if it took him a moment to do the math. “You’re only twenty-one?”

“Yes.”

“Did you go there with your parents?”

“No.”

“She’s full of information, isn’t she?” The dipshit turned his attention to Luke. “What’s your business in the United States?”

“I’m afraid that information is classified.”

“That kind of answer isn’t going to help you, asshole.”

Frowning, Luke returned a steely-eyed stare of his own. “Then I’ll need to make a phone call.”

“That only applies to U.S. citizens.”

“I can call,” Mia offered.

“Look,” said Luke, checking his watch for any messages from ICE. “We’re going to be stateside for a week tops.”

“Then where?”

“Back into the mire, sir.”

“Speak English.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “We’ll be returning to Mexico.”

“More drug deals?”

Good God, this man was dense. “No, sir.”

The door opened, and an older man stepped inside—tall, gray hair, civilian clothes with a badge affixed to the pocket of his bomber jacket. “I don’t take kindly to fielding phone calls from the head of the TSA in the middle of the night.”

The officer’s chair clattered over backward as he stood. “Sir?”

“That’s right. These two diplomats are free to go.” He handed Luke his passport.

“They’re still searching the plane, sir. Came from Central Mexico.”

The distinguished man frowned. “You’re free to go, but don’t leave town. I’m afraid we’ll have to quarantine your plane until it passes U.S. Customs inspection.”

Luke stood. “Thank you, sir.”

“Yeah, well, you might think you’re hot shit, but if I hear one word that you’ve done anything unlawful, I’ll throw your ass in a federal pen so fast, you won’t know what hit you.”

Luke took Mia by the hand. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He gave the officer a dirty look as he walked out of security, searching for exit signs. After such a backhanded welcome, he wasn’t about to ask anyone where to find a hire car or the nearest 24-hour diner.

Nonetheless, everything afterward went smoothly. There was one hire car attendant on duty. Mia said she was too tired to eat, so Luke set to finding a hotel. He thought about getting separate rooms, but considering Mia was still shell-shocked, he decided it was best to book a suite with two bedrooms—not easy to find in Las Cruces, but after a quick search on his phone, he booked a junior suite with a king bed in one room and a foldout couch in another.

Once Mia was situated in the room, he took a quick trip to the convenience store to pick up some snacks and beer—he hated eating rubbish, but even McDonald’s was closed. He returned to the suite with two bags containing everything from beef jerky to donuts, careful to open the door quietly.

He expected to see the lights out, but he dropped the bags when Mia looked up, her eyes filling with panic as she looked up. She opened her hands, revealing a credit card sized GPS tracking device, but the flashing red light made his toes curl.