Her Kind of Hero: The Last Mercenary. Diana Palmer
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on the outside, checked the ID, and handed them back.
“Have a nice trip,” she told them. “We’ll be boarding in just a minute.”
Callie hadn’t looked at her boarding pass. She was too busy trying to spot Bojo and Peter and the others.
“They’re already en route,” Micah told her nonchalantly, having guessed why she was looking around her.
“They aren’t going with us?”
He gave her a wry glance. “Somebody had to bring my boat back. I left it here in the marina when I flew out to Jacobsville to help Eb Scott and Cy Parks shut down Lopez’s drug operation. It’s still there.”
“Why couldn’t we have gone on the boat, too?”
“You get seasick,” he said before he thought.
Her lips fell open. She’d only been on a boat once, with him and her mother and stepfather, when she was sixteen. They’d gone to San Antonio and sailed down the river on a tour boat. She’d gotten very sick and thrown up. It had been Micah who’d looked after her, to his father’s amusement.
She hadn’t even remembered the episode until he’d said that. She didn’t get seasick now, but she kept quiet.
“Besides,” he added, avoiding her persistent stare, “if Lopez does try anything, it won’t be on an international flight out of the U. S. He’s in enough trouble with the higher-ups in his organization without making an assault on a commercial plane just to get even for losing a prisoner.”
She relaxed a little, because that had been on her mind.
He took her arm and drew her toward a small door, where a uniformed man was holding a microphone. He announced that they were boarding first-class passengers first, and Micah ushered her right down the ramp and into the plane.
“First class,” she said, dazed, as he eased her into a wide, comfortable seat with plenty of leg room. Even for a man of his height, there was enough of it.
“Always,” he murmured, amused at her fascination. “I don’t like cramped places.”
She fastened her seat belt with a wry smile. “Considering the size of you, I can understand that. Micah, what about Dad?” she added, ashamed that she was still belaboring the point.
“Maddie’s got him under surveillance. When Pogo goes back, he’ll work a split shift with her at your apartment to safeguard him. Eb and Cy are keeping their eyes out, as well. I promise you, Dad’s going to be safe.” He hesitated, searching her wide, pale blue eyes. “But you’re the one in danger.”
“Because I got away,” she agreed, nodding.
He seemed worried. His dark eyes narrowed on her face. “Lopez doesn’t lose prisoners, ever. You’re the first. Someone is going to pay for that. He’ll make an example of the people who didn’t watch you closely enough. Then he’ll make an example of you and me, if he can, to make sure his reputation doesn’t suffer.”
She shivered involuntarily. It was a nightmare that would haunt her forever. She remembered what she’d suffered already and her eyes closed on a helpless wave of real terror.
“You’re going to be safe, Callie. Listen,” he said, reading her expression, “I live on a small island in the Bahamas chain, not too far from New Providence. I have state-of-the-art surveillance equipment and a small force of mercenaries that even Lopez would hesitate to confront. Lopez isn’t the only one who has a reputation in terrorist circles. Before I put together my team and hired out as a professional soldier, I worked for the CIA.”
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t known that. She hadn’t known anything about him.
“They approached me while I was in college, before I changed my course of study to medicine. I was already fluent in French and Dutch, and I picked up German in my sophomore year. I couldn’t blend in very well in an Arabic country, but I could pass for German or Dutch, and I did. During holidays and vacations, I did a lot of traveling for the company.” He smiled, reminiscing. “It was dangerous work, and exciting. By the time I was in my last year of residency, I knew for a fact that I wouldn’t be able to settle down into a medical practice. I couldn’t live without the danger. That’s when I left school for good.”
She was hanging on every word. It was amazing to have him speak to her as an equal, as an adult. They’d never really talked before.
“I wondered,” she said, “why you gave it up.”
He stretched his long legs out in front of him and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I had the skills, but as I grew older, the less I wanted roots or anything that hinted at permanence. I don’t want marriage or children, so a steady, secure profession seemed superfluous. On the other hand, being a mercenary is right up my alley. I live for those surges of adrenaline.”
“None of us ever knew about that,” she said absently, trying not to let him see how much it hurt to know that he couldn’t see a future as a husband and father. Now that she knew what he really did for a living, she could understand why. He was never going to be a family man. “We thought it was the trust your mother left you that kept you in Armani suits,” she added in a subdued tone.
“No, it wasn’t. I like my lifestyle,” he added with a pointed glance in her direction. He stretched lazily, pulling the silk shirt he was wearing taut across the muscles of his chest. A flight attendant actually hesitated as she started down the aisle, helplessly drinking in the sight of him. He was a dish, all right. Callie didn’t blame the other woman for staring, but the flight attendant had blond hair and blue eyes and she was lovely. Her beauty was like a knife in the ribs to Callie, pointing out all the physical attributes she herself lacked. If only she’d been pretty, she told herself miserably, maybe Micah would have wanted more than an occasional kiss from her.
“Would you care for anything to drink, sir?” the flight attendant asked, smiling joyfully as she paused by Micah’s side.
“Scotch and soda,” he told her. He smiled ruefully. “It’s been a long day.”
“Coming right up,” the woman said, and went at once to get the order.
Callie noticed that she hadn’t been asked if she wanted anything. She wondered what Micah would say if she asked for a neat whiskey. Probably nothing, she told herself miserably. He might have kissed her in the airport, but he only seemed irritated by her now.
The flight attendant was back with his drink. She glanced belatedly at Callie and grimaced. “Sorry,” she told the other woman. “I didn’t think to ask if you’d like something, too?”
Callie shook her head and smiled. “No, I don’t want anything, thanks.”
“Are you stopping in Nassau or just passing through?” the woman asked Micah boldly.
He gave her a lingering appraisal, from her long, elegant legs to her full breasts and lovely face. He smiled. “I live there.”
“Really!” Her eyes lit as if they’d concealed fires. “So do I!”
“Then you must know Lisette Dubonnet,” he said.
“Dubonnet,” the uniformed woman repeated, frowning. “Isn’t her father Jacques Dubonnet, the French ambassador?”
“Yes,” he said. “Lisette and I have known each other for several years. We’re…very good friends.”
The flight attendant looked suddenly uncomfortable, and a little flushed. Micah was telling her, in a nice way, that she’d overstepped her introduction. He smiled to soften the rejection, but it was a rejection, just the same.
“Miss Dubonnet is very lovely,” the flight attendant said with a pleasant, if more formal, smile. “If you need anything else, just ring.”
“I will.”
She went on down the aisle. Beside him, Callie was staring