Terms Of Attraction. Kylie Brant
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He wanted—needed—to take her word at face value. But Cael McCabe believed in being prepared. As much as he believed in revenge.
He glanced in his rearview mirror before switching lanes. If Ava Carter turned out to be working with Samuelson, he’d have no compunction about using her to destroy the man. And if that destroyed her in the process, well…
She would have gotten exactly what she deserved.
Two days later Ava was jogging across the tarmac at LAX to the private jet waiting for her. A man she remembered from Cael’s security detail at the civic center stood at the base of the steps leading into the plane. She flipped through her mental Rolodex. Bailey. Balsem. Benton. That was it. He’d been flanking de la Reyes’s other side when Cabrerra fired at the man, hitting the officer instead. He was around her age, with wavy brown hair and a friendly puppy dog face that belied the seriousness of his occupation.
When she would have hurried up the steps by him, he reached for her bag. “I’ll take care of this.”
“I can handle it.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t relinquish his grip on the suitcase. “Boss’s orders.”
Ava released the bag, hoping her uneasiness didn’t show. She’d refused most of the high-tech tools Samuelson had tried to press on her, but she had accepted the minicamera hidden inside what looked like a normal pen. All parts were plastic or ceramic to pass undetected through security.
Heading into the jet, she reassured herself it was unlikely the item would raise any concerns. She was a cop, and she wouldn’t have found the tiny camera if it hadn’t been shown to her. It certainly looked harmless enough, clipped to a slim notepad in a zippered side compartment.
She paused before heading down the aisle. The surroundings were considerably more opulent than any she’d flown in before. There were six rows with two wide, comfortable-looking leather seats on either side of the aisle. Through an open door in the back she noted another compartment complete with wet bar and couches.
McCabe was seated midway back next to de la Reyes, and the two discontinued their conversation when she made an appearance. The president spoke first.
“Detective Carter.” His face was wreathed in smiles. “It is a pleasure to see you again. Forgive me for not rising. My seat belt is fastened in preparation for departure.”
Cael lifted a brow at her. “You cut it close,” he noted.
Her nerves jittered. Considering the fact that she’d had to completely rearrange both her personal and private life in less than forty-eight hours, it was a miracle she’d made it on time.
And given her continued ambivalence about this task, it would have been a relief if the jet had taken off without her.
As the men resumed their conversation she took a free seat near the back behind an operative of Cael’s she remembered from before. Sibbits, she thought his name was. He was exceedingly thin, as if all excess flesh had been carved away. His receding hairline was graying, and cropped short. The rest of the plane’s occupants were part of de la Reyes’s entourage.
Benton boarded the plane, minus her bag, and took a seat up front. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that her luggage had been thoroughly searched before it had been stowed. The precaution only served to remind her of the precariousness of her situation. Until de la Reyes ascertained the level of infiltration, no one in his government was above suspicion.
And if Ava let her guard down in the slightest, a very different sort of suspicion would fall on her.
The jet’s engines revved. Moments later it began rolling along the runway. She’d never been a nervous flier, but the anxiety from her situation had her remaining seated upright, muscles tight with tension. So it must have been sheer exhaustion that had her asleep before they’d been in the air a half hour.
Awareness prickled beneath her subconscious. In the dim recesses of her mind, an alarm shrilled. Ava struggled to surface from slumber, but it was like swimming against a powerful current. She couldn’t manage to drag her eyes open.
She was floating in pale green seas, being tugged ashore by an unrelenting tide. The sensation might have been pleasant if she’d felt more in control. As it was, she fought against the inexorable force of nature, found herself betrayed by limbs that had turned weak and molten.
Opening her eyes, she was disoriented to see Cael’s face close to hers, his gaze fixed and intense. It was with no little embarrassment that she realized his eyes were the exact shade of the sea she’d been lost in only moments ago. Sleep shredded defenses and dignity with equal ease. Exploited vulnerabilities usually kept guarded.
“We’ll be landing in fifteen minutes.”
Averting her gaze, she raised her seat forward. “You should have wakened me earlier.”
“I figured you probably needed the sleep. It couldn’t have been easy making all the arrangements you had to on such short notice.”
The innocent words had remorse stabbing through her. She’d called him before she’d contacted DHS, half hoping he’d make the decision easy for her. If he hadn’t invited her along on this particular mission, she would have been off the hook, having done her “duty.”
But he hadn’t made it easy for her. And neither had Samuelson, with his air of condescension, as if her eventual acquiescence had never been in question. She didn’t know which made her feel worse, that she was deceiving a man who paid her salary for the duration of the job. Or that the money itself had played an undeniable part in her decision.
Turning back to McCabe, she said only, “What’s in place so far?” Regardless of Samuelson’s agenda for this trip, she was being paid to provide security protection, and that task would take precedence while she was in San Baltes.
His voice was pitched low. “I’ve got two men on the ground already. They’ll have completed some preliminary work prior to our arrival. De la Reyes was originally scheduled to return to San Baltes tomorrow. His men, including the pilot, just found out this morning of the change of plans. I’ve tried to make sure none of them have had access to outside communication.”
She asked shrewdly, “And the news of his early return has been leaked only to…?”
Cael gave her an approving look. “Rafael Gonzalez is de la Reyes’s chief of Presidential Guard. It’d be like our Secret Service. Pedro Cabrerra was his most senior officer.”
Ava’s spine prickled as she grasped his meaning. “Even if Gonzalez shares Cabrerra’s political leanings, he’d be crazy to try anything now. He has to realize his department will already be under suspicion.”
“Which also makes it more urgent that he act. His entire branch is about to undergo intense scrutiny. If Gonzalez is affiliated with the rebels, he has one last chance to strike before his access to President de la Reyes becomes curtailed.”
She nodded her understanding. “How do we know the rest of his security detail weren’t in on Cabrerra’s plan?”
Cael looked grim. “That’s one of the questions my operatives are checking into. They’re investigating all Cabrerra’s associates, discreetly, of course. I have them meeting us at the airport to provide more security for the trip to the presidential palace.”
“What will we have for weapons?”
“We’ll