Keep (Command #2) (34 page)
Authors: Karyn Lawrence
She answered in German. “I’m glad to see you as well.”
His mouth trailed over her skin as his hands roamed down her back, pressing her soft body into him. “I like your shoes.”
“Thank you.”
“They make me want to do indecent things to you right now, right here in this office.” Clearly that was too much from the blank stare he received and she shook her head. He had half a mind to communicate it in a different way, but he was enjoying this game. “Are you staying?”
She gave him a wide smile. “Yes.” Her voice was quiet, but the words were strong. “You are my home.”
He couldn’t wait another second; he needed her now. His suit jacket came off easily and he tossed it onto the nearby chair, and he noticed the black box sitting there. He’d have to give his assistant a raise. Or at least a bonus for making what Shawn was about to do possible. He snapped up the box and pulled the engagement ring from it, turning to face her.
He moved deliberately, stalking toward her, her wide eyes fixed on the ring. She looked petrified, but she didn’t run from him, or this moment that was rapidly evolving into something powerful and monumental. There was a sharp breath from her when he sank to one knee, grasping her trembling left hand in his.
“I’ll love you forever. So marry me.”
Her gaze drifted from the ring slowly to connect with his eyes.
He spoke in English then. “Do you know what I just said?”
“Yes.”
He blinked. “Yes, you understand or —?”
“Yes. Yes, Shawn, yes.”
For the second time, he slid the ring on her finger but this time it was her choice that he did so and it carried the meaning it was supposed to. He couldn’t get to his feet fast enough, lifting her in his arms. “Did I miss any of the phrases you learned?”
“Yeah, but… they’re not safe for work,” she blushed.
He grinned ear to ear. “Why don’t you let me decide that?”
There wasn’t any point in arguing. Shawn Dunn always got what he wanted.
-22-
SEVEN MONTHS LATER
Ethan had a splitting headache. Blinding light reflected off the windshield of Giovanni Abramo’s car when it parked beside the hanger, momentarily flashing in Ethan’s eyes, aggravating him. He’d been fighting the headache since accepting this terrible job. The thirty-year-old Italian with curly dark hair stepped out of the car and went to the trunk to fish out an enormous bag that looked like it weighed as much as the wiry man.
Ethan wound up doing the work as he knew he would. Giovanni was used to being waited on, and he only spoke Italian. All other languages were inferior and beneath the Abramo family.
“I take it you’re Nathan?” Giovanni asked, looking up to meet the eyes that were almost a foot above his.
Ethan’s Italian was almost flawless. “Yes, pleased to meet you.”
“I’m glad you were available. My last guy got sick, and I thought I was going to have to cancel. I’ve been planning this trip for months.”
Unbeknownst to Giovanni, his bodyguard had come down with a horrible case of intentional drugging. Ethan decided his character for this assignment would be all business. “I’d like to speak with the crew and inspect the plane.”
Giovanni gestured that direction, as if saying,
“After you.”
Exterior inspection revealed nothing abnormal, but Ethan didn’t find that surprising. Not too many people cared about Giovanni. His father Vitale was the one that garnered the most attention. There was a crew of three attached to the jet, two men and a woman, all dressed in matching black attire. He evaluated the pilots, one young and one older. The flight attendant was in her late twenties, maybe thirty. Brunette. Utterly gorgeous, but they usually were on these private staffs. In-flight, high-class hookers.
“I need to examine the interior,” he said to her.
Giovanni smirked. “None of them speak Italian. I believe Olivia is American.”
Ethan repeated in English, and she blinked a pair of emerald green eyes at him, and for a second he saw a flash in them, an emotion he wasn’t expecting. Annoyance. Then, it was gone.
“All right, this way.” Her voice was lyrical and pleasing.
Once inside the plane, his head was an inch from the ceiling. She followed him and remained in the aisle while he inspected the seats and lavatory, watching him, curious.
“There’s nothing on board you need to worry about,” she said.
“Is that right?” He came closer, needing to go past to view the cockpit and galley.
“Yes, it’s my job to know what happens on my plane.”
Her plane? Pretty territorial, but she took pride in her work, and he could respect that. When she didn’t step out of his way, it forced him to examine her closer. In a word, she was elegant. Long lashes rimming intelligent eyes. She didn’t find his size intimidating; in fact, she didn’t seem to find him intimidating at all.
He was so very tired of doing this — he must be slipping. He felt like he’d been undercover his whole life. He’d sworn that the job in Croatia would be his last. Juric, or whatever that man’s name had truly been… it was supposed to end with his death. Now Ethan was standing on a plane that was gearing up for South Africa, a fake passport in his pocket, staring at a woman who the real person inside of him thought was profoundly beautiful. Not that he was allowed to have those kinds of thoughts.
It didn’t matter anyway — she was looking back at him like he was an asshole. That’s what he’d seen earlier in her eyes, and she wasn’t wrong.
“I need to look in the galley and cockpit,” he said, prompting her to move out of his way.
She continued to silently watch him as he did this, making it awkward, and he felt the strange desire to fill the silence.
“How long have you been the attendant for the Abramo family?”
Her jaw set. “I’ve been part of the crew for a month. Are you about finished?”
“Yeah, but I need the keys for the galley —”
She was gone, like she couldn’t stand to be around him another moment. He followed her down the stairs to where Giovanni waited with a smile.
“All clear,” Ethan said in Italian. If the galley was locked, it was secure.
“Good. I’m sure she’s anxious to get pre-flight checks done.”
Ethan paused. “You mean the pilots.”
“Yes.” The Italian took a breath, and then his smile widened into a huge grin. “You do realize that she’s the captain, right?”
No, he hadn’t. God, he was an asshole, and a sexist one to boot. Ethan’s English was hurried when his eyes trapped her green ones. “Please forgive me for making a sexist assumption.”
She gave him a tight, polite smile. “Don’t worry about it. You’re not the first. Female pilots are uncommon.” The older man passed her a clipboard, and she studied it, like Ethan ceased to exist.
Giovanni pocketed his phone that he’d been reading something on, a displeased look crossing his face.
“Everything all right?” Ethan asked.
“It’s fine.” It seemed like the Italian had more to say and it came out quieter. “My father wants me to postpone.”
“Why?”
“My ridiculous brother. He’s probably holed up somewhere, buried under a pile of women, but because my father doesn’t know where Constantine is, he’s paranoid. Totally convinced something’s wrong.”
Something was wrong. Constantine wasn’t buried under a pile of women. For a while he’d been buried under a pile of rubble that used to be a house back in Germany, with one of Ethan’s bullets in him. That moment replayed in his head: Kara Hayward slung over his shoulder, warning him about the man on his six. What the hell had Constantine Abramo been doing there? Ethan was sure none of the memory showed on his face. He’d always been a spectacular actor, and his control over his emotions was absolute.
“Fuck him,” Giovanni said, “He’s not screwing this up for me.” He turned and scurried up the staircase into the plane.
Ethan took a last look at the exterior of the metal container that he’d be locked in for the next sixteen hours. He could walk away, leave it all behind, but then good people might die. People like Jason and Shawn Dunn.
Olivia must have thought he was re-examining the plane again for she approached him hesitantly. The red silk scarf decorating her neck was a reminder he didn’t want, of the man’s throat he’d slit in Trier. The one who had stabbed him and thankfully missed a kidney.
“I told you, there’s nothing on board you need to worry about,” she said. Her gaze went up to his as her voice fell to a hush. “I have a feeling the most dangerous thing might be standing in front of me.”
She was much too smart for her own good. It left him with no choice but to put one foot in front of the other and scale the steps that would lead him into the belly of the plane.
The belly of
her
plane, he reminded himself.
________
To be continued in “Surrender”
Coming Spring 2015
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book (or anything I write) would not be possible without my own leading man, Nick Lawrence. Thank you for encouraging me as I pursue this crazy dream, for enduring every conversation that spiraled into “book talk,” and for letting the house go to hell while I write. I hope you know how sexy you are when you read my drafts, even when you’re glaring at me over your Kindle. I love you so much. Even enough to consider outlining upcoming books. (Whoa.)
Thank you once again to my editor, Karen Dale Harris, for helping guide me to a stronger story with deeper characters, and for showing me where to use the scissors. I think we make a great team.
To my beta readers, Karen Danhauer and Sarah Ward, thank you a million times over.
Thanks to my parents Mike and Diane Sloan for their amazing support. I’m sorry that when I call I want to talk about book stuff before telling you about the grandkids. It’s all about me. Me! (You’re used to it by now, right?) I love you both, plus Dad’s obsession with checking my Amazon ranking hourly.
To my copyeditor, Jodi Keen, thanks for all your hard work and for letting me blow right past deadlines. (Deadlines are unicorns in my department, anyway.)
Thank you to the folks involved in bringing the cover to life: Jamie Alexander, Chelsie Forbey, Jordan Hardin and Ian Plain.
Lastly, thank you to my friends and co-workers at the Messenger-Inquirer (and PMG) for their support.
IF YOU ENJOYED THE BOOK
Posting a review and/or a rating on Amazon or Goodreads will help me continue to produce work and tell more stories, and it means the world to a writer just starting out like me. And please know that I’d love to hear from you! You can sign up for my newsletter at my website,
www.karynlawrence.com
, to receive exclusive content and notifications of whenever I’m launching a new book, running a sale or have a book on free promo. I promise I won’t share your email address with anyone, and I expect to only send out a handful of updates throughout the year. Thanks so much!
. . .
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Karyn Lawrence is an author, graphic designer, and screenwriter. She published the nonfiction book for teens “Techniques of Color Guard” in 2002 after an editor discovered her color guard blog, way back in the infancy of the Internet and long before blogging was a thing.
She has been a screenwriter for more than fifteen years, with rather mild success, and grew tired of her stories only reaching a handful of readers. The decision was made to try fiction in early 2013. She published her first novel, "Stay" in May of 2014.
She is a Chicago native who currently lives in Owensboro, Ky., with her amazing husband and two adorable sons.
Twitter:
@karynsloan
Facebook:
Facebook.com/karynlawrenceauthor
Table of Contents
