“Yep.”
He crossed his left wrist to our joined hands and pushed a few buttons, starting his stopwatch. “There. When it reaches three minutes, you can relax until we land.”
“You’re really too sweet.” The tires rumbled and the plane shimmied beneath us as we accelerated. I squeezed his hand so hard I probably cut off his blood supply, but I was too busy trying to breathe to feel an adequate amount of embarrassment.
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but sweet hasn’t ever been one of them,” he answered with a squeeze as we lifted off.
“Ask me something,” I blurted as every worst-case scenario flashed through my mind. “Anything.” My pulse skyrocketed.
“Okay.” His brow furrowed in thought. “Did you ever notice that pine trees sway?”
“What?”
“Pine trees.” He checked his watch. “People always talk about palm trees swaying, but pine trees do too. It’s the most peaceful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Pine trees,” I mused. “I’ve never noticed.”
“Yep. What’s your favorite movie?”
“Titanic,” I answered automatically.
The plane pitched upward, dropping my stomach as we angled into a steep climb.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I nodded quickly. “I mean, there was totally room on the door, but I loved the rest of it.”
He laughed softly and shook his head. “Two minutes to go.”
“Two minutes,” I repeated, willing my breaths to slow and the knot to untangle itself from my throat. The odds of being in a plane crash were so minuscule, and yet here I was, clutched on to a gorgeous stranger who probably thought I was a few crayons short of a box.
“What’s your favorite time of day?” he asked. “Hey, I’m just distracting you.”
“Sunset,” I said. “You?”
“Sunrise. I like the possibilities of the day.”
He glanced into the sea of gray that filled the window, and I leaned forward to chance a peek. I could see the edge of the wing through the thick fog, but everything else was still murky. Maybe it wasn’t so bad if I couldn’t see the ground.
The engines whined at a higher pitch.
“What the—” Nate started.
The sound of metal on metal stilled my heart.
The wing exploded in a ball of fire.
CHAPTER THREE
NATHANIEL
Kabul, Afghanistan
August 2021
“That appeared to go well.” Torres’s voice thickened with sarcasm as I watched Izzy walk away with the rest of the envoy. She hadn’t stomped, stormed, or even glared at me before following Webb toward the armored cars at the edge of the runway. She’d simply dismissed me like we didn’t have a decade of history between us.
I scoffed, but there was no stopping the corners of my mouth as they lifted in appreciation. Well played.
“That’s her, isn’t it?” Torres asked as we fell in behind the politicians. “Shit, I barely recognized her.”
Politician. She hated politics—at least she used to. She’d made such a big deal about getting into the nonprofit sector, never giving in to the pressure her parents put on her to further their own agenda through her career, and yet here she was.
She’d made a choice that day after all.
When push came to shove, she was an Astor.
Anger rose, swift and hot, and I shoved it aside. Logically, I’d always known she’d chosen her parents, but seeing that choice play out cut like a dull knife.
“Sergeant Green.” Graham fell into step beside me. “You want to clue me in on what that was about?”
“Nothing to clue you in on,” I muttered, ripping my gaze from the sway of Izzy’s hair and scanning the perimeter. I lowered my Wiley Xs to shield my eyes from the sun.
Shit, how the hell was she here?
“Right. Because that didn’t just go down like you ran into your ex on the tarmac or anything.” Sarcasm dripped from Graham’s tone.
“She’s not my ex.” We never got to that point. “And wipe the smirk off your face.”
“She’s worse than your ex,” Torres mumbled. “She’s your what-if.”
“Touchy, aren’t we.” Graham’s grin faded. “I can’t believe they turned down the Chinook.”
I grunted in agreement. Earlier today, I hadn’t given a shit that the politicians had refused to take the armored Chinook—or, as we called it, Embassy Air—from the airport to the US embassy. The seven-kilometer route was safe enough—for now. But that was before I knew it was Izzy we’d be transporting. I wanted her behind bulletproof everything. Hell, I wanted her out of here, period.
We reached the convoy, and the aides split between the center two of the four black SUVs. Holt—the aide Kellman was responsible for—climbed into the back of the second vehicle, Izzy following after.
Her backpack slipped off her shoulder, and I caught it by the strap before it could hit the pavement. The common olive-green fabric was soft and worn, the padding flattened by years of obvious use, but there was no mistaking the cylindrical burn mark near the zipper.
The breath punched out of my lungs, and a wry smile twisted my lips as I lifted the pack, my eyes rising to meet hers, both hidden behind our sunglasses. The lenses made it so much harder to read her. Her body language was a solid attempt at calm and collected, but her eyes had always been the best way to get a feel for what she was thinking. Was she all over the place like I was, or had three years of silence really made her that apathetic?
“Your bag, Ms. Astor,” I said slowly as a breeze from the air-conditioning drifted over my face.
Her lips parted, and she swallowed before taking it from my hands and shifting it to her lap. “Thank you.”
“Can you turn the air up?” Holt asked the driver, tugging on his tie as sweat dripped down his beet-red neck.
Graham looked back over his shoulder from behind the wheel and laughed softly. “Sorry. It’s already on max. It’s just that damned hot here.”
Holt fell back against the seat, looking like someone had shot his puppy.
“For fuck’s sake,” Kellman muttered, already heading toward the tactical seats in the back row.
A quick glance told me all the luggage had been loaded into the rear vehicle, and all the aides were secure. I scanned the perimeter again, even though there were six other operators doing the same, and caught Webb’s nod before he slid into the lead car.
It was time to go.
“Buckle up,” I told Izzy, shutting her door before she could respond.
There. She was behind as much bulletproof glass as I had on hand.
I took the front passenger seat and shut the door. “Go.” I motioned toward the rolling lead car as the manned gate opened in front of us.
The sweet scent of lemons and Chanel no. 5 hit my nose. That vise around my chest tightened another painful notch as I fought off a barrage of memories that I didn’t have time for. That ring on her finger might have been new, but some things hadn’t changed. She still smelled like long summer nights.