When Jordan first met Khaled a couple of years ago, she’d recognized a glimmer of interest in his dark brown eyes, even though Hugh was standing right there. Neither she nor Khaled overtly flirted, but he’d kissed her hand instead of shaking it, opened doors for her and held her chair at a fabulous gourmet dinner in the Sultan’s Cave. When speaking to her, his voice took on a husky tone that was suggestive in spite of his massive size. More than once, he’d asked her to try on a belly dancer’s costume.
Not anymore. Like a soccer goalie, he was positioned on a landing at the top of three long stairsteps in front of the side-by-side, glass doors that opened onto Fremont Street. His dark brown guayabera shirt with strips of white embroidery down both sides stretched tightly over his chest. The short sleeves displayed muscular biceps and forearms. In spite of the modern clothes, he reminded her of an ogre—not a friendly cartoon monster but a ferocious creature known to devour babies. Going head-to-head with him would be foolish. She needed to distract, evade and escape.
“Happy to see you,” she said as she tore off her neon green jacket and wrapped it loosely around her left hand, leaving the right arm free to use the baton. “Hugh sends his regards.”
“How would you know? Your husband divorced you.”
“Let’s get this straight. I divorced him.” Maybe her ex was closer to Khaled than she’d thought. With the volume of cash that flowed in and out of his casino, there was a great opportunity for money laundering if the restrictions could be circumvented with the type of larceny that was Hugh’s special talent.
He took a step toward her. “I just spoke to him on the phone.”
Bad news for her. Had Hugh mentioned the kidnapping? He must have. That might be the reason Khaled and his men hadn’t already knocked her unconscious. They needed her alert to take them to the twins.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the two bare-chested guys approaching with their patterned harem pants flapping around muscular thighs. Her expertise in the martial arts might not be enough to defeat three large men, but no one had ever accused her of lacking self-confidence. She wouldn’t panic. She had to concentrate, needed to believe she could handle any obstacle. I can get past them. I have to. For my sons.
She surveyed her surroundings. To her amazement, the gamblers at the slots were too intent on their machines to notice the life-and-death struggle taking place. That indifference had to change. She counted on the crowd reaction to help her as she faced off with Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Jordan put on a show. Whirling and waving her neon jacket, she launched into a series of high kicks, some of which connected. She accompanied her action with loud shouts. “Hai. Hah. Ho.”
Her gambit worked. The gamblers were watching. Some actually turned away from their slot machines. A couple of women shrieked and grabbed their purses.
Jordan dashed toward Khaled, saw that he was braced and ready for her attack and evaded his grasp while delivering a swift rap on his outstretched fingers with her baton. Instinctively, he pulled back.
The gamblers contributed shouts of their own. “Hai. Ho. Ho.”
A pit boss stepped between her and the shirtless attackers. He made an announcement. “Nothing to worry about, folks. It’s all part of the entertainment at the Magic Lamp.”
She played along with his scenario with a couple of leg sweeps and more kicks accompanied by fierce poses with her baton. Like a star performer, she scampered back and forth across the stairs, then she took a bow. Finally, she twirled in front of Khaled and flung her jacket into his face. After a pivot, she dashed out the door onto Fremont Street.
The glittering chaos of neon lights and rock music suited her mood as she holstered her baton and dashed toward the hotels on the corner. From there, she could catch a taxi. Sensing the presence of cameras, she pulled up the hood on her fitted, nylon sweatshirt. Clad from head to toe in black, she felt as intangible as a shadow, darting swiftly through the crowd, which had thinned out a bit. Unfortunately, she wasn’t invisible. Glancing over her shoulder, she glimpsed the pit bosses and shirtless men in pursuit.
At a western-themed hotel, she plunged into the underpass and spotted the line of taxis at the curb. Stopping to get inside one of these vehicles seemed like a sure way to get caught, and so she kept moving. Her thinking was disorganized. She hadn’t planned for this turn of events, hadn’t expected Khaled to react so aggressively. She still couldn’t believe he’d immediately called Hugh. Disaster! Or maybe not. If nothing else, she had succeeded in establishing a false trail that would lead to San Francisco.
She ripped through the hotel’s doors into the lobby, which featured an incongruous decor combining glittering chandeliers and ranch-style fences. Instead of harem girls and belly dancers, the cocktail waitresses dressed like cowgirls with red boots, vests and hats. The male employees looked like they were part of a rodeo, and all of them wore guns on their hips...toy guns, she hoped. To her left was the registration desk for the hotel, and beyond that she saw a long wooden bar like one in an old-time saloon. An arched entrance to the casino was to the right. She spun around and dashed up a staircase to the mezzanine. Hiding behind a huge pot holding a tall saguaro cactus, she could look down at the entrance. The gang from the Magic Lamp charged through the doors, conferred for a moment and then split up, probably to search for her.
If she’d had more time, Jordan would have ducked into a more secure hiding place and stayed there until the coast was clear. But her departure on Emily’s chopper was scheduled for 3:00 a.m., and she didn’t want to be late. Already, the time was 2:42.
When the Magic Lamp guys had dispersed, she scampered down the staircase and out the door into the night. Turning on the speed, she headed for Fourth Street. Harvey said he’d cruise that area, and she hoped to find him. For a change, luck was with her. The Prius had just pulled up at a stoplight. Jordan threw herself into the passenger seat. “Go.”
The former marine gunned the engine—a less than dramatic gesture in a hybrid. He cranked the steering wheel and swerved in an illegal right turn. Through the windshield, she spotted the shirtless thugs in harem pants. The Prius left them in the dust.
“I think we made it,” she said.
“Just in case,” he drawled, “I’m fixing to use evasive driving techniques.” He accelerated and dodged through the late-night traffic like a Vegas native. “We damn sure don’t want anybody hanging on our tail.”
“Or following us to the airfield.”
“Copy that.” He left the main drag and zipped into a residential area, slowing his speed to match the few other cars on the road. “I don’t mean to pry, but were those guys who looked like Aladdin’s genies coming after you?”
“That’s right.” She could hardly believe she’d pulled off that escape.
“How did you kick genie ass?”
She showed him her baton and then collapsed it to fit back into the holster. “I have my ways.”
“Damn, Jordan. You ain’t playing around.”
“Not when it comes to my kids.”
Harvey drove with the assurance of a man who knew what he was doing. Nobody could follow this Prius. It helped that they weren’t going to Harry Reid International Airport on Wayne Newton Boulevard but to a private airfield where Emily kept her fleet. Also, Jordan had mentioned to the pit boss that she was staying at the Flamingo, which should send them in the wrong direction. This phase of her escape was over. At least, she hoped it was.
After Harvey dropped her off, he would change the license plates on the Prius and hand the vehicle off to someone else who would take possession of the little car while Harvey drove home to Henderson in his SUV. Minutes clicked by on her wristwatch. Running late, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Her friend in Utah would wait for her.
At 3:23 a.m., Harvey turned left onto a long, straight road that led to the airfield on the outskirts of town where several private companies and helicopter services housed their aircraft. In the distance, beneath the floodlights, she spotted a blue-and-gold helicopter outside a hangar. More importantly, she saw Blake, standing nearly as tall as the chopper blades with the night wind riffling through his short blond hair. His wide, muscular shoulders looked strong enough to carry whatever she loaded upon him. Again, she felt a stab of guilt. What gave her the right to burden him with her emotional baggage?
She hadn’t bothered to find out what was going on in his life. Harvey had said something about an IED explosion and serious injuries. I should back off. It was wrong to ask him to step into danger again.
WHEN BLAKE SPOTTED the Prius, he checked his watch. At 3:27 a.m., she was nearly a half hour late. Jordan had put him through twenty-seven minutes of raging anxiety. According to her damned plan, she was supposed to leave a message for Caspar Khaled at the Magic Lamp Casino and scamper out the door. Yeah, right. In what universe could she poke the bear and not expect a counterattack? She could have been shot or beaten or taken into custody.
No way should he have accepted her scheme. Blake knew what it meant to go into hostile situations. He was battle-trained. Not that his experience had helped in the most recent incident. When he got stuck in an IED explosion, he’d messed up. Big-time. And now, he doubted himself.
When she exited the Prius and strode across the tarmac toward him, he noticed a subtle difference in Jordan. Her curly brown hair had the same bounce. Her shoulders-back, athletic gait showed excellent physical conditioning. Her lips still curved in a confident grin, but her stormy blue eyes had taken on a new seriousness, and her fingers curled into fists. Whatever happened at the Magic Lamp had caused a shift in her attitude. He hoped this change would encourage her to consider the outcome of her actions before she—again—leaped with both feet into a churning sea of trouble.
When she was only a few feet away from him, he asked, “How did it go?”
She went up on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around his neck and molded her slender body to his. Her heart fluttered against his chest as she exhaled a long sigh. In a ragged whisper, she said, “I shouldn’t have taken that chance. I almost blew the whole escape and got myself caught.”
“You’re not injured, are you?”
“No.”
“And Khaled didn’t follow you here?”
“No. Harvey’s a great evasive driver.”
“You bet I am.” His buddy sauntered toward them. “She’s right about that.”
“In a way, my plan worked,” she said. “Khaled already contacted Hugh and will undoubtedly tell him that I’m going to San Francisco. That’s the false trail I want him to follow. But it could so easily have gone wrong. I didn’t take the level of danger into account.”
This was as much his fault as hers. He should have stopped her. As if I could... “You can’t let your guard down now. Nor can I. We need to assume that Khaled is hot on our trail.”
“And we have to get out of here pronto.”
Keeping his arm slung around her shoulders, he leaned close and caught a whiff of her sweet jasmine and coconut shampoo. “In future, you might consider ways to adjust your style.”
“You’re right. I need to be more careful.”
Ever since he’d known her, she’d been a risk-taker—a reporter who chose to be embedded with combat troops, an investigative journalist who tracked down a serial killer by posing as a prostitute, and now she was a single mother who had kidnapped her children and gone on the run. “Don’t change too much, Jordan. I like you the way you are.”
“But I ought to change...somewhat. And I intend to.” She stared into his face, confronting him. “There’s something else we have to talk about. But not in front of the kids.”
As if on cue, the twins burst from the hangar, laughing and shouting as they ran toward her. She crouched and held out her arms to corral the rambunctious five-year-old boys. She held them close and kissed them a dozen times.
“You changed clothes,” she said. More kisses.
“Didn’t wanna run around in my jammies,” Alex said.
“You’re my big boys.” More hugs and kisses.
“Cut it out, Mom.” Alex pulled away. “Emily showed us the choppers. Awesome. I wanna be a pilot when I grow up.”
“Me, too.” Cooper snuggled in her arms as he pointed at the blue-and-gold helicopter. “That’s an ECO-Star, made by Airbus. Oh, and the tail rotor is called a Fenestron which means fan-in-fin. Do you see it?”
Before she could reply, Alex interrupted. “It goes fast. That’s all I want to know.”
Blake hurried them along. “Are you boys ready for takeoff?”
The kids bounced up and down as they shouted a wildly enthusiastic assent. The time they’d spent sleeping in the car had apparently recharged their batteries. When Emily Finnegan—a stunning, six-foot-tall redhead—strode toward them, Harvey stepped closer to Blake and nudged his elbow. “I got to meet that woman.”
The tone of his voice told Blake that his buddy wanted more than a handshake from the glamorous female pilot. Both were single. They shared a love of mechanics and speed. The minute he introduced them, sparks started to volley back and forth. Harvey moved fast, pulling a business card from the pocket of his weathered denim jacket. Emily responded in kind. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.
Blake finished loading their duffel bags and the car seats into the cargo hold. He was impatient. Emily said the flight from Las Vegas to Fillmore, Utah, was about 250 air miles and, travelling at a speed of 125 to 150 miles per hour, would take roughly two hours. In Fillmore, they’d meet a former associate of Jordan’s who had retired from a big-time career as a television news anchor to run a small weekly paper and spend all his free time on the nearby ski slopes. Nice lifestyle. Skiing and keeping track of local events might be something Blake would consider for his retirement.
During his tours of duty, he’d spent a lot of time in helicopters of all sizes and shapes. When it came to class and comfort, none compared with Emily’s sleek, beautiful ECO-Star. Wraparound windows offered panoramic views. The leather seats were arranged with four, including the pilot’s seat, in the front and four on a raised platform behind them. Though the boys wanted to sit in front, preferably on Emily’s lap, she’d set up special elevated kid seats with safety harnesses in the rear where they still had outstanding views.
While Emily took her position in the pilot’s seat and went through a series of preflight checks, Jordan climbed into the back with the boys and showed them how to wear the headsets. “These are voice activated,” she said. “When Emily turns them on, we can hear every word you say, so don’t be screaming into the microphone.”
“Roger that,” Alex said. “Emily said ‘roger’ means okay. And if it’s not okay, you’re supposed to say ‘negative.’”
“And a helicopter is like a ship,” Cooper said, not to be outdone when it came to new information. “That means we don’t say left and right. It’s ‘port’ and ‘starboard.’”
“Starbucks,” Alex said.
“Starboard. It means right.”
While Jordan ran through the standard mom questions about potty breaks and drinking water and food, Blake turned to Emily. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Promise me that you won’t let anything bad happen to Jordan and the boys.” She dropped her voice so only he could hear. “The twins are precious cargo, and she’s a good person.”
Though he’d never spoken that promise, he’d already given his allegiance to this mission and to Jordan. From the moment he saw her and the twins in that garden shed, he had dedicated himself to bodyguard duty. Not that he was doing a great job as a protector. Why the hell hadn’t he gone with her to the Magic Lamp? “I’ll take care of them.”
“Not an easy task. Jordan can be unrelenting and a little bit scary. Still, I’d do anything for her. And the twins? Oh my God, they’re so smart and so active.” Under her breath, she added, “I don’t know how she keeps up with those little energy balls.”
“Ditto.”
She glanced toward the rear. “You guys get ready. I’m starting the engine.”
Jordan made sure the twins were okay before she moved to the front and settled into the seat between Blake and Emily. He had instinctively taken the outer seat, which was where he sat during most of his airborne military maneuvers when he needed to be the first out, directing his squad. Though he had braced himself for takeoff, the rumble of the rotors awakened unwanted memories of other flights, other missions. From the rear, the boys were screaming.
Blake clenched his jaw, fighting off a flashback. He hated the panicked, out-of-control feelings that came when he plunged into sensory recall. His nose twitched at the remembered stink of gunpowder. His ears rang with echoes of past explosions and the cries of the dying. He closed his eyes, blocking his visions of gunfire flashes, torn flesh and so damn much blood. His gut churned, and he tasted vomit in the back of his mouth. Get a grip. He told himself that they were taking off from Las Vegas in a chopper flown by a beautiful red-haired pilot. Forcing his eyelids open, he looked down and saw the shimmer of neon lights instead of jungle or desert.
Over the headset, Emily told them that she was turning off all the interior lights so they could have a better view. Though it was cool in the ECO-Star cabin, Blake felt sweat beading his hairline. The boys had ceased their screeching and babbled to each other about what they saw on the ground. They had no fear, none at all. Their voices on the headset were remarkably clear.
Emily informed them, “We’re at an altitude of one thousand feet. I’ll take a swing over the city, and then we’re on our way to Utah.”
Below lay Vegas. Glitter Gulch. On the strip, he saw a replica of the Eiffel Tower, the skyline of Manhattan and a pyramid. Nothing to be scared of, and yet the thwap-thwap-thwap of the rotor and the vibration of the cabin stirred his visceral panic. His pulse thumped hard and fast. His chest was tight, and he couldn’t breathe. For a moment, he felt the cabin closing in, suffocating him. Can’t pass out. Need to stay alert. Got to be strong. And then, he felt Jordan’s caress on his closed fist.
His fingers opened, and she gently cradled his hand. When he looked down at her, relief flowed through his veins. Her nearness soothed his tension and loosened the stranglehold of his flashback. Being here with her felt right. We’ll be okay. He would protect her and the boys...or die trying.