Whispered Lies

I don’t have a pilot or a private jet.

TWENTY-ONE

PARK HERE,” CARLOS told the limousine driver when they reached the airport in Carcasso

When the car stopped moving, Carlos added, “Keep the doors locked and stay with Miss Saxe while I do a security check.”

“You think the airplane is a danger?” the driver asked.

“Not necessarily. This is just standard operating procedure.” Carlos reached over and squeezed Gabrielle’s hand to let her know to sit tight. He didn’t like that her skin felt like ice.

“I’ll be fine,” she said in a voice so small he really hated to leave her.

But he’d written instructions on the pad for her to order the driver to leave immediately if anything happened or if he didn’t come all the way back to the car to get her.

If he waved her to the plane, that was a sign to leave.

Carlos got out and strolled over to the lowered steps, waiting for passengers. The engines hummed and the white fuselage of the Learjet gleamed like a polished pearl.

He climbed the steps slowly, wishing he’d had a chance to alert Korbin and Rae or had a weapon in his hand, but anything other than riding to the airport as pla

At the door, he stuck his head inside.

Plush and sleek. A corporate fly toy.

He’d just stepped all the way inside to inspect the cabin further when the cockpit door opened. Carlos swung around, prepared to fight.

Jake Malone, one of BAD’s more versatile agents, stood with hands on hips and a grin that split his face from ear to ear. His buzz cut was hidden by a captain’s hat cocked a little to the side. He’d stuffed that wide body into an airline pilot’s dark-coat-and-pants uniform, perfectly outfitted right down to the white shirt and tie.

“Slick ride, huh?” Jake gri

“What are you doing here?” Carlos was relieved, but a

“Joe bought some time by letting Interpol think the CIA is investigating Gabrielle, not that he had her in custody. But Interpol issued a warrant early this morning to bring Gabrielle in for questioning. Joe didn’t want to risk her passport photo being recognized, especially with the false name. He figured no one at the school would question Gabrielle having a private jet.”

“Good thinking. She just finished the computer work this morning. Are Korbin and Rae up to speed?”

“Gotthard sent them the message you two were going to Milano next. Korbin had problems with his cell today so he called me via sat-phone to let me know they saw you two leave a half hour ago. He and Rae should just be arriving at the commercial terminal about now.”

“Would have been nice to know this wasn’t someone else waiting for us,” Carlos said, scowling.

“Hey, I got one of Joe’s usual orders a couple hours ago-find a plush private jet, get here before you arrived, and get in touch with you as soon as I had everything lined up. I sent a text. Two out of three isn’t bad. That’s batting over.600.”

“I’ll remember that next time I have to cover your ass in a firefight.”

“When I didn’t get a confirmation back from you, I sent a message through the school. You must have gotten that or you wouldn’t be here. I knew you’d at least come to see who had delivered a jet to you.”

“That’s some screwed-up logic, but it fits, considering the source.” Carlos paused, squinting in thought. “You said us. Who’s your copilot?”

Jake shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”

The door at the back of the cabin opened, revealing a bed. Jeremy Su

He stretched, yawning. Sun-bleached hair curled along the collar of his starched white shirt that glowed against the bronze tan. Carlos had never seen the jean-clad Jeremy in navy slacks or a pressed long-sleeved dress shirt.

“When’d you get a pilot’s license?” Carlos asked.

Jeremy lifted his diver wristwatch into view and shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe an hour ago, depending on which time zone we’re in right now.” He flashed a bright grin.

Oh, hell, no. Carlos rubbed his forehead where a throb had started, then glared at Jake.

“I said you didn’t want to know,” Jake reminded him.

“I’ll get Gabrielle and you get ready to fly us out of here as fast as you can,” Carlos told Jake, then turned to Jeremy. “And you, don’t push a button or touch a knob, not even in the bathroom.”

Jeremy raised his hands in surrender. “I’m just here for decoration.” He turned around and headed for the sofa facing two cushy-looking side chairs.

Carlos stopped him with, “I don’t think so. We need someone to carry bags for Miss Saxe.”

“Your arm broke?” Jeremy spouted off.

“No, mine’s just fine. Yours may end up snapped if you don’t get over here and act like someone employed by a woman who is heir to a fortune.”

Jeremy scowled, but got to his feet and stormed past Carlos, who started to jerk him back inside to clarify his role.

But the minute Jeremy’s feet hit the steps going down, the guy turned like a chameleon, marching ahead of Carlos with military-straight posture. That was saying something since Carlos knew Jeremy had never been near the military and they wouldn’t have taken the surf hound with Jeremy’s prison record.

At the car, Carlos tapped for the driver to open the locks, then he helped Gabrielle to her feet. She took in everything going on in silence.

Jeremy removed the bags from the car and stepped around to face Gabrielle. “Nice to have you back on board, Miss Saxe.”

“Merci. Nice to meet you, too.” She glanced at Carlos, but kept up the charade while he closed the trunk.

When Carlos stepped back around the limousine, Jeremy was saying, “I’m at your service, day…or night.”

The minute the limo pulled away, Carlos leaned close and said, “Don’t even think about acting on what I see in your eyes if you want to return home with all your parts in working order.” Then Carlos told Gabrielle, “This is Jeremy, one of our people who you will not see again after we land.”

“Nice to meet you, Gabrielle.” Jeremy smirked and carried the bags to the airplane.

Gabrielle laughed. “He’s sweet.”

“No, he’s not sweet.” Carlos wanted to wring his neck. “Jeremy is just as dangerous as every other operative in this group, maybe more so since we never know what he’s going to do. Joe must have been desperate for a copilot to send him.”

“So he’s a pilot, too?”

The admiration in her voice hiked Carlos’s irritation another notch. “No, he’s not a pilot. Jeremy is as much use in that cockpit as a blow-up doll. Actually, that’s not fair since the blow-up doll could be used as an air bag.”

At the top of the steps, Jake had the door to the cockpit open. Carlos introduced Gabrielle to Jake, saying, “He’s the only real pilot on board.”

“So you don’t need a copilot?” Gabrielle sounded worried.

“No way.”

Her shoulders relaxed.

“I’ve got autopilot for when I need to grab some shut-eye.”

“What?” She stabbed that question at Carlos.

“Much as I hate to admit it in front of him since we barely have room for his ego in the cockpit as it is, he’s the one pilot you want flying in any situation.”

Jake gave her a Southern-fried grin. “Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll be landing in Milano in time for lunch.”

Carlos led her into the cabin, considering how Interpol’s international APB had thrown a new kink into the plans. BAD played by their own rules, and Interpol had no idea whom they were dealing with.