Bailey declared, “Well, if you’re going on this job, I am too.”
She knew as well as he did that they would make a lot more money if they each headed a crew and took separate assignments. Bailey was the very definition of mercenary, so if she volunteered to make less money and come along on the same job with him, it meant she was concerned. She wanted to watch his back, and that irritated him to no end.
He snapped, “I don’t give a shit what you do.”
“Keep it that way, asshole,” she told him.
It was their little way of expressing affection for each other. He and Bailey had worked together for a very long time.
And the job remained just as he thought it would, mind numbingly routine.
Right up to the moment a human witch—a librarian—appeared in a whirlwind of Power and called a Djinn a dimwit.
Witnessing that little scene was like having a switch thrown in his head. Just like that, after five years of a dangerous, growing ennui, he came back online, sharper and clearer than he had ever been. Engaged again. Interested.
Perhaps even amused, although he wasn’t at all sure about that. After all, he had been stalled in a strange, restless kind of boredom for a long time.
Standing in the early afternoon Miami sunshine, he watched as the last of the group boarded the plane. Only then did he step inside himself. Leaving the crew to close and seal the plane door, he walked into the cabin.
The Boeing could seat up to eighteen people, so their crew had plenty of room to spread out. There were two couches set on either side of the cabin. Wide, comfortable chairs, all covered in elegant pale leather, were positioned in sets of four around tables. At the back of the plane, a complete, high-end galley could produce gourmet meals on long trips.
As soon as they were airborne and the plane had leveled out, everyone would be served their choice of filet mignon or grilled Dover sole, a fresh salad of mixed melon balls, balsamic braised asparagus, French rolls, and either chocolate mousse or a cheese plate with coffee for dessert.
When Carling had suggested the menu as a gesture of appreciation for their send-off, Sebastian hadn’t objected. Soon enough the team would be eating rations that they carried in, fish that they caught and any vegetation they could harvest from the land.
The Djinn had chosen a seat at the back of the plane, and everyone else had given her as wide a berth as they could in such limited space.
As instructed, Olivia sat alone at the first table, opposite his laptop and files. He had studied her, at least as much as he was capable of, earlier in the conference room. Up close, he could take in all the details that he could no longer discern at a distance.
The sunshine slanting into the window brought out deep auburn glints in the chestnut-colored hair that lay in a sleek cap against her well-shaped head. While her blue T-shirt was plain, it fit snugly against her feminine figure, and the color was flattering to her pale, lightly freckled skin. She had intelligent gray eyes and a sensitive face, with shifts in expression that were subtle and nuanced. He could easily separate her feminine scent from the mélange of all the other scents in the cabin, and he found it delicious.
That reaction she’d had earlier—it had been an involuntary response. Her heart had pounded. He had seen the tiny flutter of pulse at her carotid artery. He was not sure what had prompted her reaction, and he found himself intrigued, even though she could have merely been surprised.
At the moment she looked calm, which he found irritating. She cradled a smartphone in small, capable-looking hands. At first he thought she was texting someone, but then he caught a glimpse of bright fruit exploding on the screen.
She played Fruit Ninja.
So much for his powers of intimidation. He refused to smile.