“I can land her, no problem,” Bono said with a tinge of excitement, which should worry Joss. Bono was an air cowboy who only enjoyed his job when it required near impossible stunts that put his skill to the ultimate test.
“Let’s go,” Joss said, keeping his eyes trained on the target on the jetty through the binoculars. As they got closer, she pushed back the hood of her rain jacket, revealing a pretty face with big, dark eyes and beautiful, lush lips. Well, damn. “Suspect confirmed.”
“We’re on level zero,” Bono said, which was the cue for the ground team to move in.
Before Bono cut the blades, Joss already had the door open. Getting out, he faced the woman he was supposed to take in with or without her cooperation. She was all grown up, no longer the girl who stalked him in the woods, but her petite size made her look younger than her age. A few scrapes and bruises marred the pale skin of her legs, probably from helping Erwan pull oysters and fishing nets. There was no mistaking the look in her wide eyes. She looked like a deer caught in headlights. She was frightened. Petrified.
She was right to be. They didn’t do things by the book. They didn’t answer to any governing body. There was no law that could prevent them from taking the woman who stood at the end of the walkway as if she expected him.
She looked back over her shoulder, no doubt taking stock of her escape routes. A man in a brown leather jacket and jeans tucked into his boots exited the woods behind her. He stopped, looking between Joss and Clelia.
A witness could pose a problem. Just looking at the stubborn set of her chin, Joss could tell she wouldn’t go without a fight. They’d have to use force. The black SUV already made its way down the hill as he closed the distance between Clelia and himself. She looked ready to bolt, but the man at her back and the SUV on the right cut off the only two ways out, unless she was going to dive into the sea.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Joss called when she took a step back.
She stole another glance at the man in the brown leather jacket. Joss kept the message in his eyes clear as he targeted his gaze on the man. Walk away and keep your mouth shut. The man with the brown jacket was probably a holidaymaker, an early riser who was curious about the helicopter. As if sensing the danger, the stranger turned the other way and walked briskly in the direction of the square. Good.
Joss stopped a step away from Clelia. Even if he was supposed to take her, he wasn’t going to deliberately intimidate her with his larger physique.
Lifting her head, she locked eyes with him. Her skin was as pearly as the inside of an oyster shell and her eyes were dark pools of melted chocolate. Her nose was delicate and small, her features beautifully proportioned, but it was the pout of her upper lip fitting like a pretty little bow on the fuller bottom lip that held his gaze. The younger Clelia had always been cute, but she’d grown into a knockout. Not that he should notice. One, she was their hostage. Two, he had unfinished business with the woman from last night.
The SUV came to a stop in the road. Maya Martin, the team’s hydromancist, got out of the vehicle, weapons concealed under her jacket. The small amount of time he had alone with Clelia was running out.
He addressed her in French. “Hello, little witch. It’s been a while.” Nine years, to be exact.
A wounded expression flickered in her eyes before she managed to conceal it. Her words were cutting. “I’m surprised you remember me at all.”
Did he insult her by mentioning her nickname? He would’ve thought she’d be long over that. “Oh, I remember you.” How could he not? She’d followed him like a puppy. It was sweet how she’d thought she’d been careful enough for him not to notice. “No words of welcome for me?”
“What do you want me to say?” She took a step back. “Welcome home?”
He tried to keep his voice reassuring. “I need you to come with me. I have to ask you a few questions about the fires.”
“Strange coincidence. You’re the second one this morning.”
He didn’t like that statement. “Who was first?”
“A journalist from a Paris newspaper. Am I to take it you work for a television station?”
He let the sarcastic comment slide. Anyway, it was all bark and no bite, although, he had to admire her courage for putting up the show. No one else from his team had made contact before he had, and the fact that someone else had approached her was worrisome, but he merely had time to deepen his frown before Maya walked up.
In her typical no-beating-around-the-bush way, she said, “There’s another fire. Île de la Jument. Boss wants you at the site. Details will come through in a sec.” She nodded in Clelia’s direction. “I’ll take her back to base.”
Joss glanced at Clelia.
“Boss said on the double,” Maya said, giving him a questioning look.
He nodded. “Take her to base and don’t let anyone near her until I arrive.”
Maya gripped Clelia’s arm. “We’ve made arrangements for ground transport when you land on the island. You better go by helicopter. It’ll be quicker.”
Clelia’s hair and clothes were dripping wet, probably from being caught in the rain. A small puddle had gathered around her boots. She had to be cold.
“Make sure she gets dry,” he said, surprising himself more than Maya, who stared at him with astonishment. With another quick glance at Clelia, he turned and pressed on the mic in his ear to cut off the noise from the blades. “Don’t kill the engine, Bono. We’re up again. Île de la Jument.”
“Got it, Joss,” Bono said, sounding happy. Bono was always happy, but never as happy as when he could fly. “This baby’s spinning. We’re ready for you.”
Whatever this was, Joss wasn’t sure he was ready.
Chapter 6
When Clelia’s dream unfolded in reality, panic hit for several reasons. First of all, there was the dream itself. She’d thought after seeing Joss last night the way things had happened in the dream had been wrong. The fact that the scene had still played out like in her dream was all the more disturbing, because last night hadn’t been the beginning and end of the story. Last night was nothing but a preview. A warning.
Secondly, there was the journalist who’d followed her. He’d blocked her only escape route. She could’ve made a run for the forest if he hadn’t appeared in the path. A black vehicle had already pulled up in the road, eliminating that option, effectively trapping her. She’d considered screaming, but it was clear from the journalist’s quick retreat he wasn’t going to help her.
Then there was Joss. Last, but far not the least. He hadn’t remembered last night. Maybe that was the most painful. What had she expected? He’d been out of his mind drunk. She wasn’t going to tell him what had happened when he could only look at her as the child he remembered, and certainly not when the beautiful woman stepped from the vehicle, the woman Joss had brought home.
Shame heated her cheeks as the woman grabbed her arm. Instead of fighting back with a retort, guilt made Clelia held her tongue. The woman was much taller and stronger. There was no point in fighting. Not yet. She had to bide her time.
As the woman dragged her to the SUV, she couldn’t help but register the irony of the situation. For the month the dream had tortured her, she’d wondered how it would end. She’d asked herself every time after waking up what would happen after Joss had walked toward her on the jetty. How could she have been so foolish? What she saw for the end was only the beginning. It had just started. The realization made her feel sick.