“I’d tell you to stop thinking about it, to take it as it comes, but one thing I’ve learned about you is you examine everything in finite detail.” She placed her hand on his chest. Val was a tactile person. He’d realized that when he’d first met her. Those lingering touches were her way to communicate; he’d written them off as exactly that and nothing more.
He nodded. The situation, revelation, hell,upheavalof his norm would keep his mind spinning. As always, he’d look for the sucker punch. The universe didn’t hand out good things to him without taking its pound of flesh in return. “Critical thinking is a self-preservation skill I developed far too late in life.”
She smiled at him. “Look before you leap?”
He felt the corner of his lip tick up. Val could make him smile despite himself. “Something like that.” More like if you want to live, make sure you know who’s pulling the strings and why.
“Well, you’re still alive, so you didn’t learn the lesson too late.” Her soft laugh eased the caution moving through his veins as sure as his blood circulated through his body. He’d sworn to himself that he’d never be placed in a compromised position again. And yet, there he was.
Falling head over heels in lust with Val, the first time he’d seen her at Mrs. Henshaw’s apartment all those years ago had taken him by surprise. Guardian had appointed him Mrs. Henshaw’s caretaker. The old woman had been adopted by several of Guardian’s operatives when her family had basically forgotten she existed. Being her caretaker was a penance and a pleasure, and she became the mother figure he’d never had.
Val visited Mrs. Henshaw regularly, like several others, but he looked forward to her visits and the brief time in her presence. Her beauty, elegant grace, and pure sophistication placed her in a category of women he hadn’t associated with in over twenty years. Twenty hard years filled with death and violence. He’d survived in the sewer and associated with rabid animals. He was no longer worthy of holding her or any other lady of her ilk in his arms. He closed his eyes, hoping his life of filth didn’t invade Val’s world. He’d tried to warn her.
“Oh, I have something for you.” She moved away from him and reached into her bag. He recognized the Hermes brand. His mother preferred Hermes. The one Val was digging through probably cost six figures. Another reason he shouldn’t be with her.
She pulled out a small pearl inlaid box and opened it. “Here.” She placed a small device in his hand.
“This is?” He looked at her and then at the earpiece.
“Communications. I don’t know about you, but aircraft noise is not my favorite thing to talk over. We’ll be able to talk and hear each other with these, and no one else will be a part of our conversation.” She slipped hers into her ear. “Don’t worry. We’re not being monitored right now.”
He cocked his head at her. “Right now?”
She motioned to his ear, and he slipped the piece in. “Guardian can monitor these pieces. Or they could. I’m not sure of their capabilities right now. But they did monitor them before the attack. The bottom line, I’m not currently working. They’re not currently listening.” The words she spoke were crystal clear and loud in his ear, although she looked down at her purse, seeming to organize the contents. She was barely talking above a whisper.
“So don’t talk too loudly, or I’ll blow out your eardrum.”
She glanced up at him and smiled. “They’re regulated for optimum volume. You could scream, and it wouldn’t get louder or softer.” She placed her hand on his leg. “You won’t regret this trip. I promise. We’ll have a wonderful time.”
Smith covered her hand with his. “Just tell me when you want me to leave.”
“Let’s start the journey before we finish it, shall we?” Val nodded toward the monitors. “Our flight’s up. It’s time to board.”
* * *
The airport was crowded,but Smith used his size to keep the press of people away from Val, and she smiled at him when he moved between her and a man who wanted to board before them. The aggressive passenger tapped him on the shoulder but failed to utter a word when Smith turned and glared down at him with a look that would send the minions of hell back to Satan’s nest. Most people were easily intimidated. Knowing which specimen of the human race would be trouble was a skill Smith had developed while surviving on the streets. The blowhard behind them wasn’t a concern.
Smith walked with Val down the gangway and into the aircraft. He had to bend down to enter the plane, and standing straight wasn’t an option as he followed her to the front. At least the compartments, or pods, as Val called them, were spacious enough to extend his legs fully, a luxury he hadn’t expected. The last time he’d traveled, first class was nothing but wider seats and a curtain barrier between the people who had and the people who had not. The wall between their pod lowered and exposed Val, sans shoes, curled up in her seat facing him. “Do you have enough room?”
He smiled. “The chair is more comfortable than my recliner at home.” Which wasn’t a stretch. The recliner, purchased from a second-hand store, served its purpose.
Val smiled at him. “Why don’t you have a nicer apartment? I know our employer pays you.”
He leaned back in his chair and stared at her for a moment. “I’m not one to spend money on creature comforts.” He’d squirreled every penny he could into several stashes. Cash money he could get to and use, so he’d never be in a position to borrow again. Money was what plunged him into the underbelly of New York. He hadn’t touched any of his pay since Mrs. Henshaw passed. It was undoubtedly an error, and as soon as Guardian restructured, they’d see their mistake and want the funds back.
She stared at him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where were you educated?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “You first.”
She laughed as one of the cabin crew stopped by to take their preflight drink orders. Val ordered champagne, and he asked for bottled water. When they were alone, Val answered him. “I was born and raised in Minnesota. I went to school there, but our employer gave me my education. Your turn.”
“Preston Heights Military Academy. Beyond that, life has been my headmaster.” His parents had shipped him off at the age of six, and he spent one month every year at home over the Christmas holiday. He didn’t know how much his parents paid to have him at the academy during the off months of summer vacation and during Thanksgiving and Spring breaks. The instructors and staff raised him. Not his parents. During those long, lonely vacation breaks, he’d spend all his time in the library. He could travel in his mind, fight dragons, duel musketeers, travel to the stars or the depths of the oceans, and forget his solitary existence.
“College?” She took a fluted glass of champagne from the tray as the attendant made his way past.
He glanced around the first-class pods. Everyone was settling in and either wearing headphones or looking at their phones. There wasn’t any need to feel self-conscious, but he did. He spoke low, knowing the communications device would amplify his words. “My parents decided I should make my own way in the world. My future had a foundation from a prestigious preparatory school and nothing else.”
Val turned, so she faced him straight on. “They turned you out?”