“When were you sent to deal with Zoran? What day?” Her tone had softened a touch now.
Jesse dropped his focus to his boots, but he caught Griffin shifting in his seat, obviously uncomfortable about where this conversation was headed. “June of last year.” He kept it vague, worried she’d put two and two together.
She remained quiet for a moment. “Had you ever failed before that day?”
And yup, she knows. “No.” He took his time working his gaze up her jeaned legs, over her soft pink sweater, and finally to her face.
She gently lifted her palm from his arm, releasing him at that bit of truth. That the man he’d been sent to kill lived because Jesse had been distracted by her impending wedding.
Yes, he should have turned down the job from Thatcher. But in all honesty, maybe he’d taken it because he was so out of his mind about the wedding that he’d wanted to . . . kill. And how fucked up in the head am I for that?
Ella turned her attention to the window, signaling that the conversation was over. He started for the aisle again, catching an apologetic look from Griffin.
“Over here.” Jack motioned to the empty seat next to him a few rows back. “You okay, man?” he asked once Jesse had strapped in next to him, Ella still in his line of sight since she was facing his way.
“I’m . . . as to be expected,” Jesse found himself confessing before drawing his attention to the window. “A strange twenty-four hours.”
“I don’t know,” Jack began, “I’d say it’s been a rather decent trip so far.”
It sounded like they were casually discussing the Louvre or the Eiffel Tower. Not referring to how Sydney had successfully infiltrated a criminal’s compound.
“Too perfect. Well, operationally speaking,” Jesse shared his thoughts. “Don’t you feel like—”
“Something bad is about to happen?” Jack finished for him. “Yeah, but that’s because statistically speaking, it usually does.”
“Exactly.” He wished he and Jack weren’t on the same page about this. He’d rather attribute the sinking feeling in his gut to anxiety.
“Speaking of bad shit happening . . .” Jack tapped a knuckle on the window. “That’s not a good sign.”
Jesse leaned closer to the window to observe the sea of flashing lights near the runway strip where they were preparing to land.
“Any hope they’re not here for us?” Jack pitched optimistically even as he gave Jesse a look that said, And there’s the other shoe.
Fucking statistics.
“Not a chance they knew we were coming unless someone from the CIA tipped them off,” Carter said when the wheels hit the ground, but he waited to stand until the jet was taxiing at a slower pace. “The only people who are aware we’d be arriving in Paris today are Gray’s dad, the CIA director, and Jesse’s old boss.”
“What about your contact here helping us unload our weapons without notice? They knew we were coming,” Jesse reminded him, and Carter adamantly shook his head as if that were a non-starter.
“Well, no way my dad or the CIA director tipped off the French.” Gray stood and looked out the window at the police cars closing in on the plane.
“You still trust Thatcher?” Carter gruffly tossed out, looking at Jesse as Jesse unbuckled and stood.
Jesse’s gaze cut to Ella, standing alongside Savanna, looks of concern on their faces about the unknown looming before them. The threat at the moment came with a badge.
“Why in the hell would Thatcher alert the authorities we’re here unless . . .” Jesse turned his attention to Carter again, remembering his discussion with Thatcher back at the workshop.
At the time, Jesse had been suspicious about Thatcher’s questions regarding Falcon Falls and his interest in Carter. He wouldn’t put it past his old boss to use Jesse’s access to Carter as a means to grab him. After all, Carter was still a rogue CIA officer. But wouldn’t it have been easier to grab him in Alabama than having the French intercept them at the airport?
“I don’t know how or why they’re here,” Carter said under his breath. “But my alias won’t survive their scrutiny.” He shook his head, eyes out the window closest to him. “Not with her here.”
“Her who?” Gray asked, standing beside Carter.
There appeared to be more than one female among the agents and police officers that circled the plane once it had made a complete stop.
“An MI6 officer who happens to hate me with a passion.” Carter moved away from the window and removed the 9mm from the holster at his side.
“Which officer hates you?” Jack asked. “The hot one in the red coat?” And why didn’t he sound all that worried?
“Shit, the DGSE is also here,” Jesse said at the realization.
“That’s France’s equivalent to the CIA or MI6,” Griffin deciphered for Savanna and Ella.
They’d most likely be going into DGSE custody when the officers found rifles, grenades, and RPGs on board. The team hadn’t exactly planned to declare the weapons at customs.
“Must be the one in the red coat,” Oliver piped up when Carter had yet to speak. “What’d you do to piss her off? An op you worked together go sideways? Or is it the wrath of a woman scorned, and she woke up in bed naked and alone?” Carter glared at Oliver, which didn’t seem to faze the man. “Both it is, then,” Oliver added with a smile, clearly not too concerned about their precarious situation, same as Jack.
But based on Griffin’s and Carter’s tight jawlines, they were thinking the same thing as Jesse. We’re screwed.
“What do we do?” Savanna asked, setting her hands on Griffin’s chest.
“Gray needs to call his old man before we get off this plane so we don’t wind up in a French prison,” Griffin answered as his gaze swerved to Gray heading toward the cockpit.
Hopefully, Gray’s father would be their saving grace as the Secretary of Defense with a direct line to POTUS. Maybe that was why Jack wasn’t worried. He’d worked with Gray a lot longer, and it was possible they’d been in jams before and been bailed out by Gray’s dad.
“I need to call Thatcher before we go into their custody as well,” Jesse said, hating to think the man he’d trusted had set them up for some reason.
“Looks like we don’t have time.” Sydney pointed to the officers approaching the plane, weapons drawn. “They’re not waiting for us. They clearly know we won’t shoot them. Otherwise, they’d never come at us like this.”
Carter looked toward Gray and the pilot talking just outside the cockpit before Gray jerked his thumb toward the cabin door. “Open it.” As the pilot began unlatching the door, Gray turned his attention to the rest of the team. “Everyone unarmed? We don’t want to give them any more reasons to detain us, or worse.”
Just as Jesse reached to remove the Glock at his back, armed officers streamed in through the open door, forcing him to raise his hands in surrender instead.
“The women. Take them,” the first officer to enter quickly barked in English, and Jesse’s heart skipped a few beats. “Allons-y. Maintenant,” she added. Let’s go. Now.