After using his untraceable, ICE-issued credit card to buy tonight’s tickets for the dinner cruise, Luke headed for the shower. He’d gone for a run on the beach before breakfast and his t-shirt was still damp with sweat. His run had been a whole lot easier this morning. He hadn’t realized until last night how much he’d been holding inside. It was the proverbial battle between his heart and his brain, and sometimes Luke just had to tell his mind to shut down and let him follow his heart.
He liked Mia a lot, and had been treating her like a door mat. Even after she apologized, he was reluctant to give in to his feelings. He could be such a dolt. Mia was amazing. Just look at the way she’d overcome adversity and jumped right into the mission. She was an ideal flight attendant-spy, asking everyone questions just like she’d been instructed. Anyone off the street would have no idea about Mia’s past. Well, there was the meltdown in Puerto Vallarta, but who wouldn’t freak out when confronted with the very scene where she’d been kidnapped? Moreover, she’d pulled herself together—acted like nothing had happened while pretending to be a flight attendant on the way home.
Luke turned on the hot water and stood under the soothing spray. Too right, it would be sweet to have Mia there to cook breakfast in the mornings. And last night was the best sex in…well, believe it or not, he couldn’t remember better. Who knew she’d be such a wildcat. He growled as he lathered under his pits, his cock already standing at attention. He liked her and he liked what she did to his body. Hell, just looking at her gave him an erection.
But could he handle a long-term girlfriend? Luke’s hand stilled. There were so many unknowns. No, he couldn’t allow himself to think of the future. Not before the mission was over.
As he lathered shampoo into his hair, the mission came to mind for the millionth time. Where the hell was Morales? The bastard should have turned up by now. They certainly were flaunting the charter business all over the map—and using the man’s plane just served to add fuel to the fire. Honestly, Luke had expected Morales or his goons to show up at the airport over a week ago—try to hijack the Gulfstream.
Steam fogged the mirror while Luke dried off and dressed in a pair of jeans and a new white t-shirt. “Mia?” he called while stepping into the corridor. When she didn’t answer, he pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge, sat on the couch and turned on the telly. He flicked through the channels until he found the news, then put his feet on the table and settled in to relax.
That lasted about five minutes. Sitting up, he drummed his fingers on the couch. It was hours before they’d leave for the cruise. What did a person do with a day off? He hadn’t had one in so long he was about to jump out of his skin. Maybe Mia would want to go for a swim. He checked his watch. How long she’d been downstairs? Unsure, he moved to the desk and opened his e-mail. More time had passed than he thought—he’d paid for the tickets over an hour ago.
She must have stayed down there to wait for the clothes. Jeez, Luke would never do that. Beside him, his phone buzzed. It was ICE. “G’day.”
“Are you enjoying your day off?” Garth asked in his usual surly voice.
“Bloody oath I am, sir.”
“I’m surprised to see you heading toward Mexico City—I hear the weather in Acapulco is eighty-five without a cloud in the sky.”
“Mexico City, sir?”
“Don’t be naïve, man. I can see the microchip heading up highway ninety-five.”
Luke sprang to his feet. “Christ, Mia is doing laundry.”
“Good God, Fox, you’d better be sure about that.”
“On my way. I’ll call you right back.” As he pushed the red icon, he ran into the bay of lifts and waited, pushing the button over and over. He’d take the stairs, but fourteen flights would take longer, damn it. Finally, a lift dinged and the door opened.
Luke dashed inside, pressed the first floor then held the close button. Someone hollered to hold the lift, but Luke didn’t let up. The doors closed just as the person came into view. The damned thing took forever to reach the bottom. Luke barreled out, practically knocking a couple to the turf as he ran toward the laundry. “Sorry,” he called over his shoulder.
Pushing through the glass door, he stopped in the center of the empty room while a rock in his gut dropped all the way to his toes. He dashed to a machine and threw open the lid.
Nothing. A sickly churning roiled in his gut.
He threw open the next, then the next, finding a pile of wet clothes. He reached in and pulled out a pink shirt—the one Mia had worn yesterday. “Jesus Christ.” Did she run? Luke checked the ceiling, spotting a security camera, then dialed Garth.
“Talk to me.”
“She’s gone. Send someone to seize the security video for the laundry room. She went missing between 10:06 and 11:30. I’m heading to Mexico City.” At a run, Luke dashed for the parking garage.
“She has an hour on you. Wait until they get to the city and see where they head from there.”
“No. I’ll take the jet. I’ll get there before they do.” He opened the door to the garage, and spotted the car while the bile in his stomach burned. He almost wished she’d taken it. If the car had been missing, she’d be a hell of a lot safer than she was now.
Damn, he’d kept an eye out, and they hadn’t been tailed, not once. There weren’t any bugs in the apartment—hell, it wasn’t even leased in their names. The whole lease thing had been done through a bogus company that couldn’t be traced to them or any espionage agency.
***
An hour and twenty minutes later, Luke landed at the charter terminal at Mexico City Airport. Mia and her microchip had been on the road for about two-and-a-half hours, still heading in the direction of Mexico City.
He taxied the plane to a holding area while Garth’s voice came over the headset. “I’m patching through the security video. It looks like our girl put up a good fight.”
Luke cringed. Damn it, he should have gone down to the laundry with her. Nearly three bloody weeks and he’d dropped his guard. No, there hadn’t been any signs of Morales, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t lurking out there somewhere. They’d made damned sure he would be. But Luke had been so sure contact would be made at the plane. Morales needed his plane back—in the air was an ideal place to stage a hijacking.
He watched Mia on the screen—saw her check over her shoulder. Something had alerted her and she’d ignored it. And then she’d fought like a champ, until the bloody beast tackled her to the ground and zip-cuffed her wrists. When a second man entered the laundry, Luke leaned forward. “That’s Marco.”
“Thought so,” said Garth. “And they left via the maintenance exit. You got any ideas on where they’re headed?”
“They’re leading us straight to Morales. I just hope—”
“What?”
“I get to her before he does.”
The line on the other end went silent for a moment. “Look, Fox, I’m not a blind man. I’ll tell you right now, not only Mia’s life, but the lives of teens all over the world are relying on you.”
He clenched his teeth. “Yes, sir.”
“That means the op comes first. Nail Morales. Then you can think about the girl.”
Luke wasn’t about to agree. His jaw twitched.
“Did you hear me?”
“Affirmative, sir.” He agreed to the second question. No matter how he sliced and diced it, the op wasn’t more important than Michelle Bradford.
“You might as well get something to eat. You have at least an hour to burn.”
Luke could have reached through the comm and strangled the CO. The last thing on his mind was tucker. He wanted to kill something. Now. “What about backup?”
“NATO naval forces are on standby in the Gulf of Mexico.”
“Ground troops?”
“I need to know where to send them first.”
“Shit.”
“You got it, soldier. You’re in the eye of a shit storm with the weight of the world on your shoulders. Now stop flapping that gob of yours and put some sustenance in it. You know the drill: eat when you can. Sleep when you can. My guess is you won’t be doing either for a while.”
“Roger that, sir. Over and out.” Grumbling under his breath, Luke headed for the galley. He wasn’t about to go into the terminal to buy a sandwich. And besides, they always had things on board—peanuts, cookies, crackers. He found it all—even some cheese spread. He made up a plate, grabbed a water and headed back to the cockpit to check the contents of his bolt bag—pocket knife, rake and pick, compass, stash of cash, folding shovel and more. Yeah, it was all there just as he’d packed it when they’d started up the charter operation.
He’d just shoved two crackers with a lump of spread in his mouth when Garth’s voice came over the comm. “Wombat, come in.”
“Wombat here.”
“They’ve stopped in Cuernavaca.”
“For food? Gas?”
“Nope, they’re at the airport.”
Luke pounded his fist on the yoke. “Bloody hell. I flew right over it—and if they were going to take a plane, why didn’t they fly out of Acapulco?”
“No clue. Maybe they didn’t want to run into you.”
“You got a flight plan?” he asked.
“Our girl needs to get on a plane first—then we’ll figure out where it’s headed. Jesus, Fox, you know the drill.”
Yeah, he bloody knew the drill and that’s what had his gut wound in a solid knot. “I know where they’re heading.” Without another word he flashed up the engines and notified the control tower of his flight.