Wedding Party Collection: Don't Tell The Bride. Kelly Hunter
this morning. The wave would come back next time she washed it, but for now she looked reasonably put together. Less like an invalid and more like a woman on a mission.
Someone took a seat beside her and Lena lowered her hands, cracked a glance and groaned at the sight of her nemesis, Adrian Sinclair, glaring back at her.
Trig was big. As in six feet five and perfectly proportioned. He’d grown into his hands. Grown into the coat-hanger shoulders he’d had at sixteen. Good for him.
Lena had stopped growing at a respectable five-eight. Nothing wrong with medium height. Nothing wrong with medium anything.
‘Go away,’ she said by way of greeting.
‘No,’ he said by way of hello. ‘I heard you failed your physical.’
Way to rub it in. ‘I’ll take it again. I’ve put in for special consideration.’
‘You won’t get it.’
‘You’re blocking it?’
‘You overestimate my influence,’ rumbled Trig. ‘Lena—’
‘No,’ she said, cutting him off fast. ‘Whatever you’re going to say about my current state of well-being, don’t. I don’t want to hear it.’
‘I know you don’t, but I am done talking around it.’ Trig’s jaw tightened. He had a nice jaw. Strong. Square. It provided a much-needed counterpoint to his meltingly pretty brown eyes. ‘When are you going to get it through your thick head that you are never going to get your old job back?’
Lena said nothing. Not what she wanted to hear.
‘Doesn’t mean you can’t be equally effective elsewhere,’ continued Trig doggedly.
‘Behind a desk?’
‘Operations control. Halls of power. Could be fun.’
‘If it’s that much fun, why don’t you do it?’
‘What do you think I’ve been doing these past nineteen months? Besides dropping everything on a regular basis to come babysit you? Why do you think I took myself off rotation in the first place?’
Lena had the grace to flush. Like her and Jared, Trig had been part of an elite intelligence reconnaissance team once, and, just like her, Trig had loved his job. The extreme physicality of it. The danger and the excitement. The close calls and the adrenaline. Trig had to be missing all that. ‘Why did you take yourself off rotation? They’d have assigned you to another team. No one asked you to sit at a desk. And I don’t need a babysitter.’
‘Yeah, I wish you’d prove it.’ Trig eased his legs out in front of him and tried to make himself comfortable in the too-small airport seat. Big man, with a body honed for combat. The pretty face and the easy smile...those were just for disarmament purposes.
‘Adrian, what are you doing here?’ Adrian was his real name. Lena only ever used it when talk turned serious. ‘How’d you even know I was here?’
‘Damon called me. He had you flagged the minute you passed through Customs.’
‘Man, I hate that.’ Who’d have a computer hacker for a brother? ‘No respect for privacy whatsoever.’
‘Handy, though. Exactly what is it you plan to do in Istanbul, Lena?’
‘Find Jared.’
‘What makes you think he’s still there?’
‘I don’t. But it’s the only lead we’ve got. Nineteen months and not one word on his whereabouts until now. What if he needs our help?’
‘If he needs our help he’ll ask for it.’
‘What if he can’t? Jared’s in over his head. I can feel it. He wouldn’t go this long without finding a way to contact us. He just wouldn’t.’
‘He would if he thought the risk of blowing his cover was too great.’
‘If it’s that dangerous, maybe he shouldn’t be there at all.’
Trig shrugged. ‘Jared wants answers. He needs answers. Get in his way and he’s not going to be happy.’
‘I won’t get in his way. You give me too little credit.’
‘I have never given you too little credit. That’s not a mistake I’m likely to make. Too much leeway, on the other hand...’
‘Misogynist.’
‘Not even close.’
‘So you don’t plan to sling me over your shoulder and forcibly remove me from the boarding area?’
‘Too showy,’ said Trig, pulling out his mobile phone and tapping the screen. A nerve twisted low in Lena’s belly and she shifted restlessly in her seat and looked away. She’d always had a thing for Trig’s hands. A little part of her had long wondered what they might wring from her if Trig ever put his mind to it.
Not that he ever did.
‘We took a vote; me, Damon and Poppy,’ Trig continued. ‘In the event that I can’t persuade you to stay here and be sensible, I get to go with you and be stupid. Damon’s already got me a ticket. You can thank him later.’
‘Thanking him isn’t exactly what I have in mind.’
‘Damon cares for you, Lena. He already has one sibling missing. He doesn’t want another gone and I don’t want to have to explain to Jared why the hell I let you go looking for him alone. It’ll be bad enough trying to explain why I let you look for him at all.’
‘You approve of what he’s doing,’ she said sourly. ‘You don’t want him safe. You want him to find out who sabotaged the East Timor run.’
‘Damn right I do.’
‘What’d you and Jared do? Toss a coin to see who went and who stayed to look after the invalid?’
‘Didn’t have to. He went. I stayed.’ Trig eyed her flatly and Lena was the first to look away. She hadn’t been the best of company these past nineteen months—too jacked up on painkillers and self-pity to take it easy on anyone. Too focused on getting through the day upright to worry about hurting anyone else’s feelings along the way. Trig deserved better from her. Her family deserved better from her.
‘Sorry,’ she said and got a knee nudge from those long lanky legs in reply. ‘I am sorry.’
‘I know.’
But unless she actually did something about changing her mindset and her ways, sorry was just another empty word.
‘You sitting next to me on this flight?’ she asked.
Trig nodded, his eyes scanning the other passengers.
‘Don’t suppose Damon upgraded us to Business while he was deep in the bowels of the airline’s supposedly secure system?’
‘He did. Said we’d need the leg room. You need to check in with the boarding staff.’
Call it fate, intervention or the joys of having a computer-hacking genius for a brother, but the overhead speaker system chose that moment to request her presence at the boarding desk.
‘You want me to get that?’ Trig asked.
‘No.’ Lena made it to her feet. ‘I can do it.’
It was to Trig’s credit that he merely watched as she walked carefully to the service desk and exchanged her economy ticket for a business class one.
No credit to him at all when he sauntered over, face tight as he wrapped one arm around her waist and another beneath her knees and carried her silently back to her seat.
She wasn’t grateful for his silence or his strength.
She wasn’t.
*