Mila looked behind her. No Poppy. “Wait, Mr. Anton, Poppy said you could help me.”
“What is it, Poppy? I’m heading out to Desert Farm . . . you’re not Poppy,” he accused when Mila finally got close enough for him to see her.
“No, I’m not. I’m Mila Thiessen. I’m the German interpreter for the summit. Poppy said you might be able to take me out to Desert Farm.” Mila looked nervously as Anton pulled out thick glasses and looked at her before putting them back into his pocket. Didn’t he need those for driving?
“Of course. Of course. Hop in. I’m going there now,” Anton said as he slowly angled himself into the car.
Mila opened the door and slid into the soft seat. “Poppy said you were the chef at the farm. Are you helping with the meals?”
“Sure am. These young bucks get too crazy with the spices. Someone needs to take them in hand or they would end up with cilantro in the chocolate mousse. Why are you heading out there? The summit doesn’t start until tomorrow or have I gotten my days mixed up?”
Mila smiled at the man as he inched backward out of his driveway. “No, you’re right. It starts tomorrow. But I like to see the rooms where the conference will be held and know the layout of the building. The chancellor will not want to ask Prince Zain where the bathroom is. I memorize the layout of the area so there will be no surprises.”
“Prince Zain? I still can’t get used to hearing people call him that. He’ll always be that little rascal who liked to steal my tarts. Wait, are you the one who had dinner with him last night?” Anton put the car in drive and coasted down the street. Literally. Mila didn’t see him push on the gas pedal. The car just slowly started rolling down the gently sloping hill.
“Yes. But it was really Abby who invited me to dinner. Why?”
“Oh, no reason.” He smiled broadly at her. Mila smiled back as she tried not to look at the fact the speedometer had yet to reach five miles per hour. “What do you think of our young prince? I’m sure you had dreams of being a princess when you were little, oui?” Anton asked as the car slowly built speed thanks to the law of gravity. It might make it to ten miles per hour by the bottom of the hill.
Mila shook her head. “No. I never wanted to be a princess. I wanted to be a superhero. I thought I could fly. I even had a secret word I would chant and it would turn my clothes into my superhero outfit and give me the ability to fly.”
“You wanted to rescue people?” Anton asked.
“Yes. My father worked for many ambassadors and some countries we visited . . . well, I wanted to save them all. I wanted to be able to fly overhead and make it rain so the crops wouldn’t die. I wanted to fight the warlords and protect the people. There were so many things that I wanted to do,” Mila’s lips curved into a gentle smile as she looked out the window at the world creeping by.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I have to make a quick stop along the way. Won’t take but a second,” Anton said as he slammed his foot on the gas. The car shot forward and the world outside became blurry.
Mila clung to the door until her knuckles turned white. The car slid, seemingly on two tires, onto Main Street as people leapt out of the way. She closed her eyes and hung on. Before she knew it, the car came to a screeching halt and she just prayed they hadn’t hit anyone. She didn’t think they had, but she couldn't be sure. Anton honked his horn and Mila opened her eyes. They were sitting in front of the Blossom Café. The door opened and Zinnia hurried out.
Anton rolled down Mila’s window and called out, “What are the current odds?”
“Six to one against,” Zinnia said as she looked innocently at Mila. “Hiya, hon. How are you doing today?”
“Good. Just heading out to the farm to get used to the setup before the chancellor arrives tomorrow morning.”
Anton leaned over Mila as she pressed back against her chair. “Twenty for,” Anton said as he handed over the bill. “We’ll see you tonight. Violet and I are going to make you something special.”
“Sounds good. I’m about worn out, and the week hasn’t even started yet. Have a good day, hon,” Zinnia called out as she hurried back inside.
“What was that about?”
“Oh nothing. We just cook for Poppy and Zinnia at night after the café closes and all the guests are taken care of,” Anton told her as he resumed his snail’s pace out of Keeneston.
“No, I mean the bet.”
“What bet?” Anton asked with such confusion Mila blinked twice.
“The bet you made with Zinnia.”
“I didn’t make a bet with Zinnia.”
“Yes, you did.” What was happening? She had seen him make a bet. He had leaned over her and handed Zinnia money.
“No, I didn’t. I’m a good Christian man. We don’t bet. At least that’s what the missus says.”
Mila slapped her head with her hands and kept her face buried in them. At this rate, she might arrive at Desert Farm in time for the summit to begin the next day. She just hoped it wouldn't be as a crazy woman. She should just jump out of the car and end this now. Besides, she would get to the farm faster if she just walked.
“You should have Zain take you on a tour of the property,” Anton said as he tried to find the gas pedal.
“I’m sure the prince has better things to do than show me around,” Mila said as nicely as she could as a kid on a bike passed them.
“I’ll see what I can do. And make sure he shows you the hidden rooms and passageways. They’re his favorite. He and his brother, Gabe, and Abby would race through there all the time when they were growing up.”
“Abby is very nice. That’s neat they’ve known each other their whole lives,” Mila said, even though she didn’t feel it. Zain was a walking, talking dream come true and, no matter how nice Abby was, it didn’t mean that when Mila closed her eyes at night she hadn’t dreamt that he was with her instead.
“Yes, but don’t let that smile fool you. She can kill you more ways than I can debone a duck.”
Mila’s eyes bugged out. “What?”
“Abby is deadly. And protective. If things ever went south, I’d want her on my side. Oh, here we are,” Anton said as he finally turned into a drive and came to a stop. Two men stood there with guns at their waists. One looked as if he was from Rahmi. He was dressed in a black suit that matched his black hair. The other was in jeans and a black FBI polo. Keeneston should have put the men on their website. The abundance of sexy men in this town would make it a top travel destination in no time.
“Hey, Anton. Who’s your guest?” Mr. Sexy FBI agent asked as he rested his forearms on Mila’s open window. He lowered his aviator sunglasses and Mila almost gasped. While she had true gray eyes, he had silver ones, and they took in everything.
“This is Mila. She’s the German interpreter and the girl who had dinner last night with Zain,” Anton said meaningfully as the other guard leaned forward.
“Really?” the sexy agent asked. “Odds?”
“Six to one against,” Anton said quickly before turning to her. “Mila, ma chérie, this is Jackson Davies. He’s from Keeneston and is here as much as possible when he’s not with the FBI hostage rescue team. He’s going to be here this week working for his brother.”
“With my brother, not for. I don’t care if Ryan is the new head of the FBI office. Anyway, I’ll be around here all week on security detail. Let me know if you need anything.” He winked, and Mila was sure she heard women sighing all over Keeneston. While he was certainly handsome, the tingles that ran up her arms when she was with Zain just weren’t present.
A large mansion came into view after a few minutes’ drive through pastures filled with horses. Two more men were standing at the front door. Again, one was a Rahmi guard and one was not. She glanced around and noticed guards all over the property. The entire farm would be under constant surveillance.