“Smart,” she murmurs.
I stand, lifting her easily, and step out of the helicopter onto Colombian soil. The other men fall in around us as we cross the tarmac toward the waiting plane. It’s a mid-size jet, white with no markings. The kind of aircraft wealthy businessmen use to move around South America without attracting attention. Or thekind people use when they need to get someone out of a country quietly.
Kelt walks ahead, scanning the perimeter out of habit even though the airfield is clearly secure. The orc never stops considering security.
“Where are we going?” Sloane asks, her voice still rough with exhaustion.
“Sacramento, California. We’ll get you medical attention there.” I adjust my grip on her, pulling her closer against my chest. “Right after that, we can take you anywhere you want to go.”
She bites her lip and nods slowly. “Sorry, I’m so tired.”
Sloane doesn’t say she needs to return to DC or demand to be taken to her family.
I don’t let myself hope. Not yet. But I notice.
“You haven’t had a good sleep in over two weeks, and you just ran through the jungle,” I respond. “You can sleep on the plane.”
The plane’s stairs are down and a pilot in a white shirt waits at the top. He doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t even blink at the sight of three massive orcs, two armed humans, and a battered woman being carried aboard. Kelt pays well for discretion. “Welcome aboard,” he says. “Flight time to Sacramento is approximately eight hours. We’ll refuel in Mexico.”
I carry Sloane up the narrow stairs, ducking slightly to fit through the doorway. The cabin is small but comfortable, cream leather seats arranged in pairs facing each other, a narrow aisle down the center. It smells like leather and recycled air, nothing like the jungle we just escaped.
Cole and Martinez take seats near the back, already pulling out energy bars and water bottles. Kelt settles into a seat near the cockpit, his massive frame barely fitting, and pulls out a phone to make calls. Aldar claims a seat across the aisle from us, tablet in hand, fingers already flying across the screen.
I settle Sloane into one of the leather seats and take the one beside her. She immediately reaches for my hand. Something warm spreads through my chest. I could get used to this.
“I’ve been updating Lucy,” Aldar says. “I confirmed that Sloane is secured.”
Sloane’s head snaps up. “You’ve been talking to Lucy?”
“She’s been my primary contact stateside,” he answers. “I took over for Jonus, talking to her, so he could focus on the extraction plan. Lucy has been coordinating information for your family and work and keeping pressure on the State Department. She’s very... organized.”
Sloane stares at him. I can see her processing this information, filing it away.
“She’s also very persistent,” Aldar adds, and there it is — a slight change in his tone. Something that might be admiration.
Interesting.
“Tell her I’m okay,” Sloane says. “And that I’ll call her as soon as I can, after I’m back in the States.”
Aldar nods and retreats to his seat, already tapping at his tablet.
Sloane turns to me with raised eyebrows. “Are my best friend and your cousin friends now?”
I snort. “It’s possible. Aldar doesn’t usually talk this much about anyone.”
“Huh.” She smirks. “I’m going to have to ask Lucy about this later.” Then she meets my gaze. “Jonus.”
“Yeah?”
“What happens when we land?”
My heart pounds. This is the conversation I’ve been dreading and hoping for at the same time. “What do you want to happen?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Well, I know I don’t want to go back to DC alone. The thought of being there without you...” She trails off. Swallows. “I don’t know how to explain it. Everythingfeels different now. And the idea of going back to my apartment and just... being without you... I know this may sound crazy since we don’t really know each other that well, but ever since you found me out there in the jungle I just can’t help but feel anxious at the idea of being separated from you. Would you mind staying with me? For a while?” Her voice cracks slightly. “I know it’s a lot to ask. I know you have your own life. But I just — I need —”
“Sloane.”
She stops.
