Pushing to my feet with a groan, I trudge out to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
“Got a job for you.”
“That’s it. Just ‘a job’? I told you last week, no one’s going to want a bodyguard who can’t hear shit and only has one arm.”
Nothing appears on screen for several seconds, and I’m about to ask him if he’s still there when he starts to speak again. “You do know how Dax and Evianna met, right? He washerbodyguard, and that worked out just fine.”
The coffee pot sputters to life, the muffled pops and sizzles as the first drops hit the glass settling me. “Dax had six years before that to learn how to function without his sight. I’ve had eight months.”
“You’re the best guy for the job, Griff.”
I snort. “Bullshit. More like I’m theonlyguy for the job. You decided to start this network two weeks ago. Tell me the truth. I’m the first guy who said ‘maybe,’ aren’t I?”
“The first. Not the only. I could send someone else, but I don’t want to. This is deep cover and needs someone with experience thinking on their feet. Someone like you. And it’s for a friend of Clive’s cousin.”
Dammit. He’s got me there. Clive is one of Dax’s guys, and if I don’t say yes, I’d lay odds both AustinandDax will never let me forget it. With a sigh, I pull out a coffee mug. “Fine. But if this goes south…”
“It won’t. Pack your passport, anything you need for five days in Switzerland, and your best suit. Everything else…well, you’re flying to Boston first to meet with Dax and Clive, then you’ll be on the 8:00 p.m. out of Logan to Zurich. I’ll help run point from Edgewater. Clive’s working on your cover story now, and once you get there, we’ll adjust if necessary. ”
“Austin?” I stop him before he can go any further, and shit. I may not be able to hear myself talk any more, but I canfeelthe uncertainty in my voice. “Are you sure this isn’t a huge mistake?”
There’s a pause, and for a few long moments, I steel myself for him to admit it’s a terrible idea. “If all I needed was muscle—two good arms, two good ears—I could find that anywhere. This job needs more. It needs your instincts. Your training. I trusted you with my life in Pakistan, Griff, and I wasn’t wrong then. I’m not wrong now either.”
The words glowing on screen are too much for me to unpack now. Too much to respond to. But they mean more to me than Austin will ever know. So I opt for the simplest reply I can manage. “Okay. Two hours. I’ll be there.”
Chapter Seven
Sloane
“Wake up, sleepy head.” Marina leans over the partition between our first-class seats, a wide smile on her face. “We’re landing in half an hour!”
I wince as the ice blue contacts stick to the insides of my eyelids. Digging into the little toiletry bag next to me, I blindly fish out a tiny bottle of eye drops. “I hate overnight flights.”
“We’re infirst class!” Marina whispers, glancing around like she’s not sure we’re supposed to be here. In truth, despite all my success modeling, I’ve never been on a plane this nice. Ever.
As soon as I canseethe tiny button on the divider between our seats, I tap it, and the narrow bed transforms back into a plush recliner. “It’s not fair,” I mutter, then turn to thank the flight attendant for the cup of strong tea and hot towel that magically appear in front of me. “You look like you just got out of the spa.”
“Because I can sleep anywhere, any time. Seriously, Sloane. You fly every month. And you never learned how to sleep on a plane?”
“No.” I don’t tell her that the reason I don’t sleep on planes is because every time I’m on one, I remember my very first flight. The one that should have been the start of a new life, not the beginning of my own personal hell.
A sip of tea helps chase away the pounding headache from tossing and turning all night, and I pop one of my anxiety pills to prepare for landing.
Marina squeezes into the seat with me and touches up my makeup so no one will notice my bruise or the bags under my eyes. As she works, I stare out the window and almost stop breathing. It’s so beautiful. Lake Zurich—our hotel is right on its shores—shimmers like liquid metal and snow dots the countryside. If I weren’t so worried about Dimitri, I’d have my nose pressed to the glass.
“Promise me,” Marina says when she finishes with the concealer and powder. “You’ll talk to Max first thing.”
“I promise. We’re free until the cocktail party tonight, so there should be plenty of time. I sent the payment before we took off, so Dimitri will have no reason to worry for another week.” Linking our fingers, I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “I can’t believe you’re not mad at me. For not telling you…”
“I am.” She gives me an air kiss, and my stomach ties itself into a knot as she heads back to her own seat. But after she sinks down, she meets my gaze. “If I’d been in your shoes, Sloane, I don’t know that I’d have survived at all. I wish you’d trusted me, but I understand why you couldn’t.”
“I don’t deserve a friend like you,” I whisper, blinking hard to stop the tears threatening to fall and ruin everything she just did to my face.
“Sure you do. Plus, you’re going to get me into all those fancy parties this week—the ones only the models and patrons are allowed to go to. As long as you promise not to keep any more secrets, consider us even.”
“I promise.”
* * *
