Chapter Seven

At six in the morning the streets were quiet. Two vehicles pulled out; Lizzy sat in the back of the truck next to Johnny, and Max sat up front as Ryker drove. The rest of the MIT3 team trailed behind in a black SUV. Their plans had shifted. Lizzy would be flying back on the MIT2 transport with Johnny and Max.

They’d take off from a private airstrip, land in Mogadishu to drop Max off to meet up with the rest of the team and, once refueled, Johnny would head on to Nairobi with Lizzy.

She’d snuggled up beside him, and dainty snores filled the subdued space as her head lolled against his arm. Itching to wrap that arm around the tiny blonde, Johnny turned instead to stare into the dawning light.

Peshawar and its neighboring war zone wasn’t Johnny’s favorite place. Too many violent memories, losing team members over his earlier years in Afghanistan. He hated that Lizzy was here. He wanted them gone.

“Thanks for the escort.” Max said.

Ryker turned onto the main road. “No problem, bro, the assignment includes a successful exfil—ensuring the asset is safely on a plane. Once Lizette Steyn is airborne, we’ll head back to the Stan.”

Johnny yawned into the ensuing silence, barely an hour’s worth of sleep had the men eager to get some shut-eye on their respective flights.

A foreign ringtone pierced the air, and Lizzy jerked awake.

 “It’s my boss calling. Gosh darn it.” Lizzy mumbled cute obscenities as she scratched around in her bag for her phone.

The phone stopped ringing as she produced it from the satchel from hell, which had to contain the The Da Vinci Code, Johnny thought as he stared at what had tumbled out.

Lizzy repacked a mix of tampons, lipsticks, nail polish, carabiners, lollipops, teabags, fuzzy dice and a lucky troll keychain. “Ethan will be mad if I don’t answer,” she said as she shoved a pair of pantyhose into a front pocket.

Johnny frowned. Was she really calling Ethan Matthews by his first name?

Ethan Matthews ran JetHaven, a private security firm that provided tailored services to VIPs and diplomats in high-risk areas. Matthews ran a fleet of eleven luxury aircraft for ferrying top-paying dogs. When Lizzy first started working for the billionaire executive, Johnny had run extensive background checks on Matthews. By all appearances, he ran a relatively clean operation.

The phone rang again.

“Hand me the phone, Lizzy,” Max said.

“Why?”

“I need to speak to Matthews.”

She hesitated.

Max pushed. “Do you still want to work for JetHaven?”

“Of course.”

“Then hand me the phone.”

“Mach 1, not Mach 5?” Johnny said to Max.

“Sure,” Max said as he took the phone.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means Max will dial it back.”

“As opposed to?”

Max settled back to answer. Ryker shot him an amused glance, turning onto a dirt road.

“Mr. Matthews, nice of you to finally call…It doesn’t matter who I am, let’s just say, I’m involved in the extraction of Lizette Steyn. Tell me, are you still enjoying the spoils of Paris?”

Lizzy gasped and surged forward.

Johnny pushed her back. “Trust us,” he whispered.

Max rubbed the back of his neck. “I know exactly where you are. I also know that you neglected to answer any calls for over four hours, neither from the men who held your cabin crew, nor from three different agencies.” He spoke over tinny shouts. “Your captain and first officer never answered calls either, instead enjoying a visit to a whorehouse. Aren’t they supposed to be your first line of defense? The crew is the captain’s responsibility.”

Lizzy gasped, and Max held up a hand as he listened to the asshole.

She turned to Johnny. “The flight crew were with prostitutes?”

“Their taxi driver confirmed it.”

“You guys are thorough.”

Johnny grinned. “We have to be in our line of work.”

Max sat forward with sudden tension. “That’s your defense? It’s the women’s fault for getting themselves into this in the first place? Where are your contingency plans for incidents that occur in foreign countries? Most major airlines have procedures in place. Cabin crew are humans—humans can behave erratically.” Max snorted as Matthews ran on, then cut in. “Your legal team might be in Karachi, but Brianna Walsh and Susan Vorster are still in Peshawar. Would you like their exact location? I’ve had men watching the facility all night.”

Lizzy looked at Johnny for confirmation and he nodded.

“Don’t worry about Miss Steyn, she’s been taken care of. She contained the incident as best she could. Without her common sense in the mix, you would be simmering in hotter shitting temperatures. Threatening her job or my team would be extremely unwise. JetHaven would be grounded within twenty-four hours, I’d make sure of that.”

Johnny gave her a quick squeeze as she stared at Max with wide eyes.

“Matthews, I expect you to be in Peshawar by lunch. If not, I’ll ensure that your company is nonoperational for the foreseeable future…Oh, and lastly, Lizette Steyn will need at least a week’s worth of recuperation. Paid leave will be appreciated.”

Max hung up.

“That was dialing it back?” she almost screeched.

Max twisted, handing the phone back. “Ethan Matthews is now worried about covering his shit-don’t-stink ass, instead of focusing on using you as a scapegoat. He would’ve blamed and fired you for the whole fiasco—you were the easiest mark. Firing you now will cause him a potential headache, especially now that a covert agency is invested in the outcome.”

Johnny agreed. “He thinks he’s a big turd in a little bowl. He now knows he’s being observed.”

“Thank you. I think.” Her eyes flitted uncertainly between the men in the truck.

Turning in his seat, Max grabbed her wrist. “I don’t give a damn about Ethan Matthews, but you? Different story. You’re one of us, been that way since Johannesburg, even though we acted like a bunch of dicks. If your boss gives you any problems, you call me.”

Johnny chuckled. “Close your mouth, Lizbug, you’re gaping.”

Rallying, Lizzy narrowed in on Max’s light eyes. “You told Ethan you have someone looking after the girls?”

Ryker spoke up. “A couple of informants who work with my team. It’s temporary, pretty soon it will be out of our control.”

“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

They rolled up next to the runway, and relief shot through Johnny. He was taking his girl home, away from dingy cell blocks and shady oblivion.

He climbed from the vehicle, assessed their surroundings, then turned towards her. “Time to go, princess.” She hesitated before grasping his hand, and Johnny pulled her into the bright sunlight.