The parking garage at Naples Airport was full of cars owned by business travelers who would be arriving later that evening to return to their homes, exhausted from their day’s work. Alik, Creed and Farrow weren’t any more rested, but they were just arriving at the garage having tracked Meg’s echo there.
They parked far from the doors that would take them inside the building only because that’s where the soldier driving Meg had parked. Everyone got out of the car, but Alik never lost sight of his sister’s echo. He was acting as a commentator, describing play-by-play what had happened to her.
When he got to the part about the male fighting Meg in the front seat of their car, it was all Creed could do to keep from punching the nearest pillar of cement holding up the next level of cars. Instead, he internalized his anger. That’s when the hint of an approaching migraine reared its ugly head, but Creed said nothing, not wanting to be the reason Alik lost concentration.
“She’s changing into clothes in the back seat of the car.”
Creed’s head whipped around to shoot daggers at Alik.
“Don’t worry Creed. The guy turned his back and is waiting outside the car.”
“Great, I may just kill him quickly for that courtesy,” Creed growled, seeing his first flash of an aura. This migraine is coming quickly. Shit, he thought.
“They’re heading inside. Let’s go!” Alik walked at a fast clip as he chased the energy fingerprint that was his sister.
“He’s gotten her a wheelchair. It looks like…” Alik paused to watch, “yeah, they’re heading toward the attendant’s counter. I have to see where he’s taking her.”
The airline attendant at the counter looked up in time to see the three chiseled and gorgeous figures walking toward her. All three moved catlike, as though their muscles were designed for stealth and agility just as much for predatory aggression.
The two men, whose shoulders rolled like tigers, took long, decisive strides. The one with tightly clipped, dark hair and blue eyes walked, scanning the room around them as though he were a natural-born fighter ready at any moment to kill anything that came at them. The other male, whose hair hung longer and shaggier, gazed straight ahead—seeming to look through the people milling about.
The woman in the middle was strikingly beautiful. Though much smaller than the men, she walked with the grace and power of a gymnast or dancer. Her dark pixie hair accentuated her graceful jaw line, neck and shoulders.
They must be elite models, the attendant concluded.
In the short time it took for them to close the distance and approach her counter, the attendant found herself mouth agape and envy forming as drool at the corner of her lips. These people were exquisite, moving art.
They stopped just out of earshot and the shaggy-haired male leaned down to whisper to the other two. The female frowned deeply at his words while the short-haired male seemed to have lost all the color in his face. The girl nodded and the three continued walking toward the counter.
The one male continued to stare past her with the brightest, bluish-violet eyes she’d ever seen. The female spoke. “We need three tickets on the first flight with a destination at or near Cairo.”
It took the attendant a moment to peel her eyes away from the woman whose voice was as crisp and sultry as her looks.
“Yes, ma’am,” she began clicking away at her keyboard. “We have a flight leaving in two hours,” she offered with a thick Italian accent.
“We’ll take it,” Farrow said whipping out the credit card Dr. Andrews had given them to use for expenses.
Walking away from the ticket agent, Creed’s face looked so red it veered toward purple.
“She’s being taken back to Arkdone in Kentucky,” he managed to say through gritted teeth.
“Yes, but we can’t go back to the States. You know that.”
“So does Arkdone! That’s why he had us turned into public enemy number one on the FBI’s Most Wanted.”
“You knew we were going to have to drop the trail if it led back to the US.”
“Doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.”
“They would have us arrested before we could exit the plane. The Feds would be standing right there with weapons and handcuffs.”
“I know.” Creed’s fists clenched and unclenched as if barely controlling his need to beat the crap out of something.
“At least we know who has her now,” Farrow offered gently.
“She’s right, Creed. At least we’re not going to have to chase her echo around the world anymore.”
“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better,” Creed’s shoulders slumped.