“Time to go, princess,” he said to the unconscious girl dangling limply in front of him and stepped out of the plane.
Tomàs saw the first flare go off in the jungle below even as he jumped; he grinned to himself. Perfect. There wasn’t even much wind today. Ariana’s unconscious dead weight made it hard for him to steer them in freefall, but he’d have plenty of time for that once he opened his ‘chute.
The parachute snapped open perfectly above him — of course it did, he’d packed it, and he was a professional. He’d enjoyed skydiving for years, even before he’d joined the FBI and later Ariana Monterro’s security team.
Grasping the handles of the parachute, he steered expertly toward the narrow black ribbon just barely visible between the trees rushing up to greet him. Getting caught up in the jungle canopy was not exactly the entrance he wanted to make, so he was careful to steer in between the high branches of the trees.
The black ribbon was a road, he knew. Had he been alone, he’d have made a perfect running landing, but with Ariana hanging unconscious beneath him, he couldn’t do that. Nor did he want to drag her along the road’s rough surface. He was being paid to deliver her in as perfect condition as possible, after all. So he hit the parachute release straps a few feet above the ground, grabbed Ariana up, and rolled himself around her in a tumbling fall which landed them in a tangle of arms and legs on the softer ground just at the edge of the road.
It was still the most uncomfortable landing Tomàs had ever experienced, and he lay still for a moment, sucking in a few deep breaths and carefully testing his limbs. Nothing broken, just a few bruises. Ariana was still out cold, and he couldn’t find any obvious injuries as he crouched over her to quickly check her over. The rumble of an engine reached his ears, an old panel van stopped just a few feet away, but he didn’t look away from his task. His new employer was an exacting man, and Tomàs was being paid to deliver Ariana Monterro in perfect condition.
“Hola, Señor Fuentes,” a voice said above him.
He looked up and smiled. “Hello, sir. I have your package.”
Chapter Three
“Personal phone call for you, sir,” his secretary said as Captain Jack McAuley entered his outer office, still sweating from his morning workout. He’d shower and change in the small bathroom attached to his office before starting on the stack of paperwork he could see looming on his desk.
“Tell them I’ll call them back.” He couldn't think of anyone from his personal life who might need him for something that couldn't wait fifteen minutes while he had a shower.
“Sir… it's Mr. Savige’s wife. She says it’s urgent.” His secretary was a smart young petty officer who knew when to interrupt him.
“Mara?” A chill settled over Jack, foreboding raising fine hairs on the back of his neck. He stopped mid-stride on the way into his private office and blinked, surprised. Why would my best friend’s wife be calling me at work? “I’ll take it in my office.”
“Yes, sir.”
The line clicked as he picked up the phone on the desk in his small office, indicating that his secretary had hung up. “Mara? You there? It’s Jack.”
“Jack.” Her voice was heavy with tears. “Oh, Jack…”
He knew at once; he'd heard that tone of grief too many times. “What happened?” he demanded. “Is Elliot all right?” He hesitated before forcing another name out. “Ariana?”
It had been six years since he’d laid eyes on her. Even though Elliot and Mara were very much part of her life, he’d carefully avoided any event where she might possibly be at, not so difficult since they’d moved to D.C. with Ariana and Jack still lived on the Ranger base at Fort Benning. Even so, at the slightest hint of trouble, his thoughts were of the woman who’d captured his heart and never let it go.
“The plane crashed, Jack…”
He couldn’t breathe. Ari. The thought of her dead, of her bright vitality snuffed out, was too much to bear. It took him several tries to get out the single word, “Where?”
“They were going to Guàlize, Ari was going to spend a few weeks with Raul after her graduation… I was planning to fly down in a few days, Raul had offered Elliot the beach house; we were going to take a vacation.” Mara was still crying, but it was slower now. “The President of Guàlize himself called and told me. Jack, I can't bear it. I can't… I can't get through to Raul and they want me to fly down and identify Elliot…”
“No.” Jack knew instinctively that Mara wouldn’t be able to manage that. Not even if Elliot's body was intact enough to identify, which having been in an airplane crash wasn't particularly likely. Especially not if the aircraft had burned. The thought of Mara faced with Elliot’s destroyed body was beyond unpalatable, so his reaction was instant, unthinking. “I’ll go, Mara. I'll bring him home.”
She sobbed with relief. “Thank you, Jack, oh God, thank you so much.”
“Are you alone? You shouldn't be…”
“No. No, I'm not alone. My sister's here with me. I'm going to go home with her for a while… you have my number.”
“I do. I'll call you as soon as I find him, Mara. I promise. I'll bring Elliot home for you.”
He stared at the wall dry-eyed for a full minute after Mara hung up, the receiver still in his hand, remembering his friend. The grueling days in Ranger School together when they’d competed jokingly against each other to be the best but still picked each other up when they’d felt they couldn’t go another step. The even more grueling tours through the deserts of the Middle East and the mountains of Afghanistan. The firefights. The hasty sutures Elliot had put in a bullet hole in Jack’s leg on a hellish mission in Somalia before they’d half-carried each other off the battlefield.
The good times. Standing beside Elliot as his best friend married his childhood sweetheart, just a little envious of the obvious love the couple shared. Grieving with Elliot after his friend drunkenly confessed one night that he was firing blanks, that he couldn't give Mara children. Laughing, but flatly refusing when Elliot asked him for a sperm donation. “Mara loves you, Ell. You don't need kids to be complete. Especially not a big cuckoo in the nest that any kid of mine would be. If Mara asks, I might say yes; otherwise, definitely no.”
Mara had never asked, which was how Jack knew it had been Elliot's idea and his alone. Mara had never needed more than Elliot's love to be happy.
And now she didn't even have that, the love of her life ripped away from her by a tragic accident, his body lying cold and ruined on some distant mountainside.
With Ariana's.
Jack's mind shied away from the thought. Pressing a button on his phone, he told his secretary, “Petty Officer Kowalski, get me Lieutenant Colonel Cullane at once, please.”
“I have him, sir,” Kowalski said a couple of minutes later.
There was a click on the line, and his commanding officer Brody Cullane’s deep voice said, “Captain McAuley; what seems to be the problem? Your secretary indicated it was urgent.”
“I’ve just had a phone call from Mara Savige, sir. Elliot Savige’s wife? There’s been a plane crash in Guàlize, and it seems pretty much certain that Elliot is dead.”