Broken Wings Read online

  Leaving her alone, in the middle of nowhere, with Ethan Masters.

  Chapter 5

  Ethan opened the side door of the RV and poked his head in. It was neat and clean enough.

  He stepped into the main body, dropped the suitcase onto the dinette, and took a quick look around. It was compact, that was for sure. There was a queen-sized bed at the very back with no door, a very small bathroom, and a two-burner stove with an old campfire coffee pot. The area over the driver and passenger seats could be converted to a bed but he didn't relish sleeping up there. The couch would probably turn down into a double, but it would be way too short for his long legs. Natalie’s either, for that matter.

  But that was something they could figure out later. Right now they needed to get on the road. Away from Ward and whoever the hell was coming after them besides the cops, that is. Natalie stepped up into the RV behind him, and he could tell it was going to get really crowded really quick.

  She smelled of lemon, he realized. Fresh, uninvolved. Complex and simple at the same time. It suited her, or at least what he knew of her.

  He settled into the driver’s seat and turned the ignition. The engine engaged with a soundless hum. It may look like an old heap, but they'd taken care of what was important. He’d go with the assumption that the generator was in the same condition, and that the waste tanks had already been emptied.

  Natalie stood next to the dinette, arms crossed, a look of battle on her face. “Who says you're driving?”

  “I got here first,” he shrugged. “You snooze you lose.”

  For a second he thought she was going to stamp her foot, and then her face became a blank slate. He knew what that looked like because it was like looking into a mirror.

  He could tell she hated losing control, probably just as much as he did. So he settled for a compromise, swept his hand over to the passenger seat.

  “Navigator gets to pick where we're going.”

  That got her attention. And a small smile. She settled into the passenger seat, buckled up. Then sat there for a moment before she turned to him.

  “I have no idea where to go,” she admitted, and he could tell the admission pained her.

  He cocked his head, studied her. “Me either.”

  She sat for a long moment, then unbuckled and stood. “We need to change before we go anywhere, anyway,” she said.

  Damn it, she was right. He’d been so hot to get out of here, he'd forgotten that part. He stood as well, standing so close their bodies were almost touching. And that lemon smell, it washed over him, made him want things he told himself he didn't deserve until his debt was cleared, his soul free. And certainly not from Natalie Flynn.

  Since he was pretty sure the second part would never happen, the sudden surge of want was far from welcome.

  He brushed past her, swearing the air crackled between them, then stepped to the dinette, opening the suitcase the laconic Harold had left with them. All the things Mandy had promised were inside. Cargo pants and a metal band t-shirt for him, shorts and a frothy blouse for her.

  “I’ll step outside,” he said and moved to the door. “Just let me know when you're ready.”

  He closed the door behind him, letting out a breath. He would swear it was ten degrees cooler out here and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the air.

  He had to get his head back on straight, because the last thing he needed was a complication like Natalie Flynn.

  Natalie waited until he stepped out and the door had closed before letting out a long shuddering breath.

  He just got to her. There was no rhyme or reason for it, but he either made her want to get all prickly or melt into a puddle of goo. Considering the situation they were in, neither was a good option.

  He was everything she told herself she didn't need. A risk taker. For God’s sake he worked for a repossession agency. Those guys got shot at for a living, at least when the recovered things as expensive as the chopper.

  Not that it was that much different from what she did, what the family did.

  When she thought that she got pissed off at her father all over again. What the hell had he been thinking? There was no way anyone could convince her he hadn’t known Petra’s true nature. He would’ve done a full workup on the woman before sending Natalie in to offer her an escape hatch. And yet he’d sent her, his daughter, into Ward’s world knowing full well Petra was a predator.

  Now she was doubting him, which was not good, considering he was one of their only lifelines and intel sources right now.

  She’d never doubted him before. Been intimidated? Sure. Like she was somehow less in his eyes, separated from him even when they were in the same room.

  But she’d never truly doubted his wisdom or integrity before today, and it made her feel strange inside, like everything was off balance.

  She shimmied out of her impractical dress and pulled on the shorts and top. Wondered how Mandy had known her size and realized her father had probably given it to the woman.

  The fact Mandy had a closet full of clothes she could have Harold put together that quickly just added to the mystery of the woman.

  From a style standpoint, the shorts and bouse weren’t something she would have chosen, but it did look like something cute a vacationer would wear, and that’s who she was playing. Playing was the right word. She hadn’t been on a vacation in five years, not one that wasn't work related. Even family vacations turned into work. So that part she’d have to be an actress for. She turned around survey the RV.

  Realized there was only one bed, and that everything else would be too short for either her or Masters.

  Which did not bode well for their first night together. Not well at all.

  Natalie pushed open the door, stepped out of the RV. Ethan’s breath caught at the sight of her. The outfit was nothing special, but it made her look younger, more carefree, as if she truly were on vacation. With him.

  He shook his head, brought himself back to center. Time and place, he told himself. Time and place. Which meant not now and not ever with Natalie Flynn.

  “I think I figured out where to go,” she said. Her flat, professional tone was at complete odds with her appearance. This was a woman who’d seen battle and for that he was grateful. He wasn’t sure what he’d have done if she’d been a wilting flower, or someone who needed his constant praise all the time.

  He wasn’t good at that, as his ex had complained time after time after time, until she finally just walked away. But that was the past. They had a different set of problems in the here and now, and if she had a good idea to get them gone, then he’d love to hear it.

  “Vegas,” she said. “We’ve got a field office there, along with a safe house and company protection. I realize you and my father have a history of some kind, and as we drive, I’d love to hear it, but right now, I think it’s our only option. No one will look twice at an RV with Texas plates driving on Interstate 40 toward the west. It’s summer, and they’re everywhere.”

  He held his comments until she’d finished. She’d thought about this while she was changing, more than he had. And he couldn’t say she was wrong, though he wasn’t altogether comfortable with going to Greg Flynn for anything. But heading north, then west was a good idea, and they could flex as needed.

  But Vegas? He’d lost a good chunk of his life there. Wasn’t sure he was ready to go there again so soon.

  Then something shifted inside him, driving back the defeatist thoughts. He’d beaten the gambling, the drinking. He could handle Sin City.

  He could do this.

  “Agreed,” he said. “But before we get started, are you comfortable driving this rig towing the Jeep? I’ll get us out of here if you navigate, but if we need to drive separately after that, we’ll need to figure out a rest schedule.”

  He couldn’t quite pinpoint the expression on her face. It wasn’t relief, wasn’t validation either. What he did know was that she was shocked he’d agreed with her. Had been prepar
ed for an argument.

  Jesus, what kind of people was she working with? It was a solid idea, one with merit.

  “I’m fine driving with a tow,” she replied, turned to climb back into the RV. “Thank you,” she said softly, almost as if she didn’t want him to hear her.

  But he did, and her words drifted on the scent of lemon.

  He’d listened to her advice, mulled it over, and agreed. In an operational environment.

  She liked to talk a big game, even to herself, but when she’d been in North Africa, it’d been as the lead female on the team, the one men and women turned to when they needed compassion, or wanted to try to use her feminine heart toward their interests.

  It’d never worked, but it had always stung. Even Cord, who’d loved her like no one she’d ever known, had let her play that role, because it was the most valuable to the team.

  In her heart she’d always wondered if it was because she just wasn’t good enough to be the team lead.

  Her best friend Rebecca, one of the few female members on the security teams and her closest confidante since college, had made it clear that Natalie was full of shit, but sometimes even your most stalwart friend couldn’t erase feelings of self doubt.

  Then Cord had died and she’d had enough of overseas, thank you very much. Going back to the States had seemed like a retreat, but she just couldn’t bear being with the team anymore. Couldn’t stand the pity in their eyes.

  When her father discovered she and Cord had been a couple, she’d been banished to personal security jobs. Sometimes for the rich and famous, sometimes just for the rich.

  Through it all, she’d always harbored the suspicion her father blamed her for Cord’s death. That he thought them sleeping together had been the catalyst, when instead it had been bad intel from the Maryland office. Intel that directed them to take a route that was an ambush.

  The worst part was that her father might not have been entirely wrong. She and Cord had argued that morning over taking the route, since it might be compromised.

  As lead, Cord had the final say and had taken her father’s word that the route was safe.

  When she’d confronted her father about the mission later, he’d assured her it was bad intel from a source they’d trusted in the past. Neither her father nor Cord had particularly cared that her instincts had been wailing.

  Cord had died because everyone had ignored her gut, but the rest of the team had rallied, gotten their primary out of harm’s way and back to the embassy.

  No one on the team had ever blamed her, she would have seen it in their eyes, in the way they treated her. And when she said she wanted to leave, go back to the U.S., they’d all understood.

  Because she and Cord together had been explosive and everyone had known it. Off the charts. Maybe it was the danger. Maybe they’d been destined to be together.

  In the end it didn’t really matter because he was gone.

  Her conversation with her father rankled. His downplaying of Petra’s threat, his shift of blame to her, even if it was silent, reminded her of that day five long years ago. Of the love she’d lost. The confidence that had been shattered.

  Now she was having hot flashes for the man sliding into the driver’s seat of a fifteen-year-old RV and she had absolutely no idea what do to about it…except ignore it.

  They’d be consummate professionals together, she and Ethan Masters.

  They’d get to Vegas, into protection, and figure out what the ever-loving fuck had happened with Petra and Ward.

  And then he’d go back to wherever his repo company was based. Wait. How did she not know that? Even her father seemed to know something about him.

  He eased the RV out of the shadows of the barn, looked over at her. “Can you close the barn doors by yourself? They’re pretty heavy. I don’t want to advertise that we were here.”

  She nodded, brought herself back into the here and now. “Give me a sec.”

  And as she walked to the barn, slid the big doors closed, reengaged the padlock, she put Ethan Masters firmly into the play-nicely-but-ignore-sexual-sparks box.

  Natalie slid into the passenger seat, her long legs stretched out in front of her. She twisted in the seat. “I’ll wait to buckle up until I close the gate,” she said, then grabbed one of the two phones he’d liberated from the suitcase Mandy had provided. “While you drive I’ll figure out where we can provision up. We need food, but we need holsters and probably a scanner, anything else you can think of that’ll keep us low profile, but still in the know.”

  Again, she was right, and seemed to be pretty damned good at the logistician portion of everything. “Sounds good.” He paused, then spoke as he slowly rolled the motorhome and Jeep over the rutted road. “Is this what you do for Arrow? Because you’re excellent at it.”

  She colored the slightest bit at his compliment, a slight reddening he would never have noticed if he hadn’t glanced over right at that moment.

  “Sometimes,” she replied. “If we have a female client I’ll act as her companion and the last ring of defense. If it’s a male, then I’m usually on the outer ring… women’s intuition and all that.”

  The way she said it made it clear she didn’t care for the last bit.

  “Well, from what I can see, your talents are being wasted.” They pulled up to the gate, sparing her from having to answer him.

  And then they were on the road, the country road unfurling beneath the tires.

  “So, logistician,” he said, “How do we get to Interstate 40?”

  She smiled at him, and the brief glimpse was heart stopping. He wondered how frequently the expression crossed her face. He didn’t think it was often.

  “You’re going to laugh, but my gut is telling me to head northwest. To Roswell.”

  He didn’t laugh, but he did smile. “Aliens, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she nodded and a curtain of hair slid to hide her face. “It’s the very last place in the world anyone would look for us right now. We can lay low for the night, then head for the interstate. It’s twelve hours from Roswell to Vegas, so we can make it in one day if we need to.”

  It was a solid plan. “How long to get to Roswell?”

  “About four hours. We can find a place to hook up the RV and get a good night’s sleep. We’ll need to grab something to eat and our other supplies in Midland, though. There’s nothing big enough between here and Roswell where we wouldn’t stand out.”

  He agreed. Knew what he was about to say would wipe their camaraderie right off the face of the planet. “I agree. But before we drive another mile, we disable the GPS on our phones and remove your father’s autodial.”

  Because as much as he was beginning to admire Natalie, he didn’t trust her father as far as he could throw him.

  Natalie bit back an angry reply. This was her father. Even if she wasn’t one hundred percent confident in his assessments lately--of missions or of her--they were a team, had been since her mother died. She trusted him to have her back.

  But Ethan didn’t. And what would it really hurt? Greg had always claimed he could pull a few strings with the NSA and ping any phone he wanted to. She didn’t need to let Ethan know that, and what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

  As much as they were in this together, she didn’t know that much about Ethan Masters, and there was no way in hell she was setting off on a cross-country drive without some kind of protection. Namely, Arrow Security.

  She agreed, catching the quick side glance he shot her way that told her she’d rolled too quickly. But if she scampered to justify it, her actions would look even more suspect.

  So instead she kept her head down, did as he asked, and did what she was best at… keeping the peace. It didn’t matter that she could kick ass and take names with the best of them, it was her role. Had been from her first day at Arrow. Probably always would be. And when your father ran the company you loved, you buckled down and did as you were told.

  Midland was a smallish city, about
a hundred and forty thousand residents, rich from oil money in the Permian Basin. She closed the Wikipedia page on her burner and pointed them in the direction of the local big box supercenter.

  “Cash or the visa cards?” she asked as they maneuvered the RV into three parking spaces at the very back of the monstrous parking lot.

  “Credit. It’s just as expected as cash in stores like these. We’ll want to roll through those as quickly as possible, pull as much cash off as we can.”

  While she knew how to conceal herself quite successfully, she’d never heard this particular angle before. “Why?”

  “Because Mandy has the card numbers. Set them up. She, or someone else, can trace them. Until Petra’s caught and taking the rap for Ward’s murder, I’m not taking any chances.”

  She could see his point.

  “We can also buy new cards with the cash as we go, smaller denominations that aren’t so obvious or easy to trace.”

  “Does it really matter? We’ll be on camera, and they’ll look here eventually.”

  “Yeah, but I’d rather keep the smallest footprint possible. Also, hoping this whole thing is over for the both of us long before they figure it out,” he replied, his long stride eating up the ground.

  She easily kept pace, which earned her a quick smile that lit up his face.

  “We’re going to be on camera almost anywhere we go regardless, so let’s make it count… hitting one place to get almost everything we need, taking the max in cash and gassing up as well tells them we were here, but not where we’re headed.”

  “And by going to Roswell, we’re going off the grid a bit,” she finished for him. “Somewhere we should be safe for a few days while Dad figures this out.”

  He nodded as they approached the front of the store. “Let’s split up. As cliché as this sounds, can you round up the food? I’ll hit the weaponry section for holsters and ammo. Yeah, it’s sexist, but it’ll also draw the least amount of attention.”