“I can do that.”
“And that you have something to say about it,” Donovan added. “Customs might ask idle questions that don’t seem to matter, but do.” He took the passport from her hand and flipped through it. “For instance, how did you like London?”
How would she know? She’d never been out of the United States. She thought about shows she’d watched on the travel channel. “The underground was surprisingly clean and easy to use.” She was proud of herself for getting the terminology right.
Donovan shook his head. “You’re wealthy, used to first-class travel; you don’t even know where the tube stations are. You spent most of your time shopping in Harrods and entertaining in your rooms at the Milestone Hotel.”
She tightened her lips at the correction, and made a point to memorize the details he’d mentioned. “Okay.”
“How was Paris?”
She was afraid to mangle the pronunciation of most places that came to mind. “Marvelous, I discovered a new designer and ordered several outfits.”
He smiled his approval. “Better.” Turning pages, he raised an eyebrow at Evan. “Prague? Really?”
“It’s very international,” he claimed. “She can fake it.”
They both gave her a doubtful look.
No, she couldn’t. “Uh, I was sick and stayed in the hotel most of the time. I hope to go back someday and see the city.”
Evan smiled. “There you go.”
Donovan tucked the passport in a holder next to his own. “I’ll carry it for you. You don’t have to bother with official stuff.”
“I beg your pardon, aren’t I supposed to be an independent American woman?”
“Married to a wealthy Muslim man and traveling in his country. You are pampered and looked after like the valuable jewel you are.” He stated it as an impersonal fact.
So that’s how he was going to play it after their steamy kiss? “Fine, I can be a pampered jewel. My bags are in the foyer.” She turned on her heel and started for the car.
Mitch snickered as she left and she heard him ask, “What’d you do to piss her off?” If Donovan answered she didn’t hear it, but she imagined his sour expression and smiled.
…
The plane they boarded at Midway airport was larger than the last one, but just as anonymous. A flight attendant named Brian welcomed them aboard, then busied himself in the galley after takeoff as the cabin lights dimmed and the team settled onto the fully reclining seats, prepared to sleep most of the trip. Jess watched enviously as Kyle and Mitch dropped off within minutes. Behind her, Donovan knelt beside Avery’s reclined seat, their voices pitched too low for her to hear.
Takeoff had been smooth, and they reached cruising altitude without so much as a shimmy or bump. Jess kept waiting for the stomach-plunging drop from the sky that she knew was coming. She dug her fingernails into her armrests, popped a Xanax along with her Dramamine, and wondered if she should ask Brian for a glass of wine to go with it. Despite it being close to midnight, she was far too tense to shut down and didn’t have the military conditioning that might have allowed her to fall asleep quickly. What she did have was an entrenched set of fears and anxieties to go with her new ones, the ones the Omega Group had instilled when they’d hijacked her for this mission. Worries about what she’d encounter rolled through her mind in a never-ending convoy of insecurities—strange customs, foreign foods, plus four team members and two innocent victims who were depending on her for information she might never be able to provide. Hell, she could make a mistake in the first day—say the wrong thing, misidentify the stupid vase they’d all focused on—and blow the whole mission to bits. It was nerve-racking. Insane.
She had questions—so many questions—and a desperate need to take her mind off half a million pounds of metal suspended in the air. She needed to make a list.
She was digging through her purse for a pen when a familiar voice rumbled over her frazzled nerves, penetrating like deep-heating liniment. “You need to get some sleep now,” Donovan said, leaning close beside her. Warm tingles zipped through her body, responding to his voice despite her annoyance with him. Damn him.
“I’m going to make a list of questions, things I need to know. I’m not prepared for this trip at all.”
“You’ll get a chance to do that later. Sleep now. I’ll wake you when we refuel in Paris, and you’ll have a few hours to go over your concerns and our plans.”
Sleep on an airplane. He had no idea how ridiculous that suggestion was, so she didn’t even address it. “I can’t relax without some answers. You all seem to think I’ll get to Luxor and tour a few museums or something, and presto, I’ll figure out where the hostages are. But I can’t do that.”