Page 4

Chapter Three

E ach of us muttered obscenities as we crammed into the six-passenger aircraft. The interior was worn-out but thankfully clean and so small that Andrew’s tall frame barely fit. His head touched the ceiling, and his knees crowded mine. He sat across from me, and William picked the seat to my right while all his luggage—secured and bundled together by a rope—occupied the space in front of him.

“Do you always travel in such luxury?” I asked, tightening the seat belt and then pulling my skirt as far down as it would go to my knees, which were pressed together and inserted between Andrew’s spread legs, way too close to his crotch. To call this situation awkward was an understatement.

Andrew threw an unwelcoming glance my way, his face glistening with more sweat. He leaned his head back, taking in deep breaths through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. His phone rang, and a picture of the little girl from the pool filled the screen, with the name “Lulu” on the top.

“Hey, Little Mermaid,” Andrew answered, his voice warm. A high-pitched voice prattled something into his ear, and he smiled wide. “That sounds fabulous… Yes… Of course, I’ll get you some when I come back… All right. I miss you, too.”

There was a brief silence on the phone, and then a different, lower voice began saying something. I busied myself with setting my iPhone to airplane mode. I was curious to hear what was being said, but it was hard to understand. And most of all, I shouldn’t care.

“That’s good,” Andrew said into the phone. “Yes, I will…” He looked out the window, listening. “Charlotte, you know I’ll support anything you decide to do. Yes… I’ll call you when I land. I love you, too.” He hung up and then turned off his phone.

Charlotte. Silently, I rolled her name on my tongue. The name suited the beautiful, posh blonde. Where did they meet? Perhaps at an artsy-fartsy gala, or at a fancy fundraiser where only the wealthy or celebrities were invited. I’d attended many events like that for my job, and only when my then-boss, the CEO of Salzburg Distributing, couldn’t go. I’d sweep into the charity event convinced my designer dress would help me fit in, but after an hour, it was obvious mine came from a rack whereas the other women had had theirs tailor-made. A knot tightened in my stomach as I remembered Greg’s, my college ex, words that had engulfed my soul like an oil slick in the ocean, killing every living thing: no matter how successful I’d become, among people like Andrew and Charlotte, I would always be an impostor.

I had tried to make something out of my life and failed. My blood turned cold at the thought of the crazy mess I’d left in Atlanta, which I could now potentially avoid thanks to Andrew having dropped into my world. Perhaps “dropped” was a bad word to think of as the plane picked up speed down the runway, creaking and shaking too much for my liking.

Andrew closed his eyes. More sweat covered his forehead, and his large hands gripped the tiny armrests, sunlight reflecting off his watch. This behavior was familiar to me. This man wasn’t a good flier. Flying wasn’t a fear for me, but I had many other phobias. Living off cereal again. Sleeping in unwashed bedding. Falling in love.

“So, Cambridge, fancy school,” I said. “Did you go there?” Small talk could take his mind off his fear and give me some insight into the man I was about to spend two days with.

“Yes,” Andrew said, not opening his eyes.

“William has a Bachelor of Science in Nursing from Emory University.” I tightened the belt over my lap one more time. Talking about William was easy since he’d accomplished noteworthy things in his life. “It’s a big university in Atlanta. Have you heard of it?” Andrew nodded. “He worked in a hospital for a couple of years until he and his buddy opened a prosperous skin and body clinic.”

Turning the bracelet on my wrist, I waited for Andrew to inquire about William’s clinic, but he was quiet. Okay. So, chatting to him would be as painful as blisters after wearing cute but ill-fitting shoes. The plane jerked, lurching us side to side for a second, and Andrew visibly swallowed, eyelids pressing together even harder.

“Your watch.” I nudged Andrew’s knee with my hand, needing him to focus on me. “It’s old, isn’t it?”

His eyes met mine. “Yes.”

“Where did you get it?”

“It was my grandfather’s.”

The engines roared in my ears, making it harder to hear Andrew.

“That’s neat,” I said, shifting in my uncomfortable tiny seat. All I got from my grandparents was… nothing. My parents had met at a foster house when they were teenagers, and I guess they never cared to look for their families. I couldn’t fault them for that. William and I cut Mom out of our life for failing as a mother. Her self-absorbed behavior ruined our childhood and drove our father away. We didn’t care about her and not once did we try to find him.

“So, are you going back to the resort once we’re done in Colombia?”

“It depends on what’s inside the chest,” he said, studying my face.

“And what would you guess is inside?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss it.”

I rolled my eyes. Fine. It didn’t matter to me.

The airplane wheels left the ground, and the plane tilted up its nose, inching into the sky. The shaking stopped and the previous racket hushed, leaving only the muffled thrum of the two engines.

“Why’d you bring your family on vacation just to leave them behind?”

“I didn’t plan this. My family and I were on holiday in Costa Rica.” Andrew shifted in his seat, his thigh making brief contact with mine. “Two mornings ago, I received a call from Octavian Global regarding the chest, and was told to expect the bracelet with instructions.”

“Why you? Is it because you were already in Central America?”

“No. I specialize in Latin American studies during the colonial period, with an interest in piracy in Spanish America.”

“And you couldn’t put it off until your vacation was done?”

“No. I couldn’t.” Andrew swallowed hard again.

Workaholic husbands and fathers weren’t the worst, but not the best either. However, they came back to their families after they finished their work, unlike some parents. Soon after our father left, we started to receive a few hundred bucks in the mail twice a year with no note or return address. The donations came for six years and then stopped. Did our father die—if it was him—or did any love he had for us run dry? I didn’t want to know. Even as kids, we knew keeping it a secret from Mom was better for our stomachs. Digesting expired cereal was easier than the brand-new pair of shoes or make-up she would have bought.

The plane tilted sideways as it turned, shifting our bodies with its movement. My left hand found an armrest, and I grabbed onto it.

“How were you able to arrange everything so quickly?”

The plane straightened its course. Andrew released the armrests and rubbed his hands up and down his thighs a few times. “I didn’t. It was arranged for me.”

“By oooky spooky Octavian Global group?” I whispered conspiratorially.

He nodded. The pale color of his face brought out the green in both of his irises. He looked vulnerable, and for an odd reason, I wanted to hug him and promise him everything would be fine.

“Is there a deadline to get the case unlocked?” I didn’t care if there was one. All I cared about was returning in the promised time frame—preferably in one piece—and having him deposit the rest of the money.

“Yes. It’s time sensitive.”

“Why?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?”

“First.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re dragging me along, so I feel like I’m entitled to ask as many questions as I want. Second, I’m trying to make conversation to take your mind off the fact that we’re flying.”

Andrew held my gaze for a long time before he relaxed some , dropping his shoulders. “I need to get to the chest before it’s shipped to its auction winner tomorrow in the early afternoon.”

“What are you planning to do with whatever is inside that box?” I moved in my seat, carefully avoiding touching his legs. “Doesn’t it belong to the highest bidder?”

Andrew looked out the window. Was Andrew a sophisticated and educated burglar? I bit my tongue to stop myself from asking anything else. The less I knew, the less I had to lie about if this adventure led me to jail.

The engines hummed as the plane soared over slow-passing land. The densely populated areas turned into a green grid of farmland dotted with red-roofed houses, towering palm trees, and horses, but soon, the landscape transmogrified into rugged mountains blanketed by an untamed jungle.

William crunched on crackers. I stretched my hand to him and flexed my fingers. He handed me a bag of trail mix, then rested his head against the headrest. Talking to him was out of the question, too. He had a minor fear of flying, and he dealt with it by listening to a suspenseful thriller—carefully picked with no airplane crashes. I offered my snack to Andrew first. He shook his head. We had two and a half hours before we’d reach our destination. This was going to be a long flight.

The aircraft bumped once, then dropped unexpectedly, shaking us in our seats. My heart jumped to my throat, practically bringing my snack with it. Did we lose the plane’s tail? I gulped in a deep breath. Whoosah . Two out of three of us already had a fear of flying, no need for me to freak out, too.

I studied Andrew’s classically handsome features with that sharp jawline. Even in his unsettled state, the teasing smirk still pulled at the corner of his lips, and for the first time I noticed a thin, barely noticeable scar zigzagged amongst his dark stubble. Was that why he always looked that way?

“What happened to your mouth?” I asked.

Andrew clenched his hands into fists, then relaxed them. “When I was a kid, I trespassed and entered an abandoned house, fell through a rotten wooden floor, and ripped my face from here to here.” He inclined forward as he pointed a finger to the middle of his cheek and traced it to the corner of his mouth. “The scar is mostly faded, but the cut damaged muscles inside.”

I leaned in to examine his face and was struck by how sensual and strawberry-red Andrew’s mouth was. My traitorous fingers itched to touch it to find out if it was also soft. His lips parted slightly, and a warm tremor ran down inside my ribcage. My ability to pick out scents was crucial for my old job, but at the moment, it threw me off my axis. Andrew smelled delicious, bold, and masculine with a touch of sweet bergamot. Pheromone and testosterone.

Wait. Were those even fragrance notes?

I glanced up at his eyes, and he was staring at me. A coy smile pulled at his lips. He gazed at me for a long time, and my heart stuttered, my entire body shimmered with giddy delight. This feeling was so wrong. He was a married man, and there was nothing to swoon over but the idea of saving my store.

We moved back in our seats at the same time.

“I bet you got a lot of ‘wipe that smirk off your face’ growing up?”

Andrew smiled. And damn it. The cabin was chilly a second ago, but now I needed a fan.

I knotted my hands on my lap. “Is there anything you want to ask me?”

He tilted his head and zeroed in on my fingers. “How did you meet your fiancé?”

“This isn’t real.” I pointed at the ring. “I mean, it’s a genuine diamond, but there’s no fiancé attached. I got a bargain during a jewelry store closing sale.”

“Why?” Andrew’s eyebrows pulled together.

“I bought it to reduce unwanted sexual advances from strangers. It’s my man repellent.”

“And it works?”

I shrugged. “I didn’t do an extensive study by going out with and without this ring. A magazine article suggested it. I guess it works sometimes, but some men are pure pigs and ignore it.”

“Why did you buy a diamond instead of cubic zirconia? You could have gotten a bigger stone. The size of it would intimidate men.”

I laughed and spun the ring on my finger. “Believe me. Size doesn’t matter. They just don’t care.”

“What if this ring keeps away your true love?” he asked, his voice deep and earnest. His sincerity went straight to a void in my chest, stirring the familiar ache, but I ignored it and laughed again.

“Call me a cliché,” I held his stare as I spoke, “but I don’t believe in love. I did once, but not anymore.”

Andrew frowned. I could have explained my reasons and defended my motives, but did I care what he thought? Nope. After this two-day trip, we’d go our separate ways. I dumped the last of my trail mix into my mouth. Once I was done chewing, I lifted my right arm, which had the bracelet. “Am I keeping this once we’re done with the chest?”

He arched an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“Its strange beauty has grown on me. I’m afraid I might actually miss it.”

“It should unlatch at the same time as the chest unlocks.”

The plane jerked, then banked, jolting my heart. Andrew squeezed his eyes shut. The aircraft leveled itself, and I slowly blew out a breath.

“You know,” I said, my body tightening, and I struggled to keep my voice calm, “they have drugs you can take before a flight. It takes your mind off the fear.” I wouldn’t mind having some myself.

Andrew nodded. Sweat visibly built up on his forehead again. “It works on flights for over seven hours, and I need a clear mind when we land. The medication makes me drowsy.”

“Good thing England has a great train system. You can get from London to pretty much anywhere in Europe.” I crumbled the empty snack wrapper and hid it in a side pocket of my bag. The aircraft dropped again. What the hell? I knew it was a bad idea to get on this piece-of-shit plane. Andrew’s nostrils flared as he breathed in and out.

“Do you want me to stop talking?” I asked and hoped he would say no because I felt a tad anxious about this flight and needed to ramble.

He shook his head, deepening the crease between his eyebrows. “Keep talking.”

“Okay…” I tapped my fingers on my thigh. I could give him a pitiful childhood story about how our father had left us when I was seven, and we grew up basically without a mother because she was busy dating men like she was training for the Olympics. Or I could talk about my old job.

“How about wine? Do you want to learn about it?” I gently bumped Andrew’s knee with mine, and he looked at me. The line between his eyebrows disappeared, and his eyes focused on me. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. He watched me with that almost smile, in a way that no other man had ever looked at me before. Not a predatory peer that gave me an unsettling feeling, not a piercing or judgmental stare that made me feel like dirt. His eyes reflected a curiosity as if he had just noticed me for the first time. My skin grew warm under his regard.

He blinked. “Sure.”

I launched into a history of wine production, starting with ancient tribes from China making fermented rice and honey and fruit wine. For Andrew’s sake, I kept it brief, and then I dove into a deep explanation of vinification. I loved talking about wine production, educating people about types of wine, and how to become better at choosing one. Most people grew bored with me and changed the subject after fifteen minutes, but even after an hour, Andrew wasn’t strapping himself to a parachute and searching for an exit door. He was a hundred percent engaged in this discussion, listening with rapt attention and asking questions I gladly answered.

Toward the end of our flight, without volunteering details about why the contract with my investor had fallen through, I shared my business idea and how, because of the Colombian trip, I could now look for a new investor and hopefully avoid having to execute a painful decision to sell the building. The more I talked about my store, the more I became grateful for meeting Andrew. Of course, I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way. He was losing money by dragging William and me on this trip, and we were liabilities, too.

“Why did you offer me so much money?” I shifted in my seat, searching for a nonexistent, comfy position. “Are you so rich that you don’t know what to do with your money or is there someone sponsoring your trip, carelessly tossing cash around?”

“Octavian Global and I have worked together for a long time. We believe rare historic objects belong in a museum, and recognize that making that happen can be a costly endeavor.”

“Are you saying you don’t have a single thing in your house that is historic and unique?”

“I own a few things, but they aren’t necessarily extraordinary or…” He sighed. “What I’m after is a fortune that was hidden from people for hundreds of years.”

A stupid grin grew on my face. “Tell me,” I said, leaning forward in my seat, “do you own a whip?”

“What?” Andrew’s eyebrows went up.

“And a brown Fedora?”

He stared at me as if I had turned into an ogre, then smiled. “For a moment I thought you were changing the subject to some fetish you have.”

My face lit on fire, but I said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

Andrew laughed. “No, I don’t own either.”

“Too bad.” My lips stretched into a huge smile. “I think you’d look good in it.”

I was flirting with him. That wasn’t me. I wasn’t a flirtatious person. This must have been the result of constantly fearing for my life during this flight.

The pilot yelled something in Spanish.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“We’re out of fuel,” Andrew deadpanned.

Say what?

I gaped at Andrew; my muscles tensed so hard they hurt.

“You should see your face.” Andrew chuckled, shaking his head. “He said we’re approaching the airport and should land in the next five minutes.”

“Oh my god! You’re such an asshole.” I smacked Andrew’s arm.

* * *

The landing felt like coffee beans shaken vigorously in a can. We were the beans. Nonetheless, we landed. And any landing I could walk away from was a great one.

Andrew turned on his phone, and dings of incoming messages poured in like a melody. I left my mobile on airplane mode to avoid the fifteen-dollar daily charge. I’d check my email when I found Wi-Fi. Andrew pressed his phone to his ear.

“Hi. We just landed,” he said, looking out the window. “It was fine.” He laughed weakly. “Yeah, not as bad as St. Helena… I’ll talk to you later. Kiss Lulu from me. I love you.” He hung up, faced me, and caught me staring.

Crap .

I averted my eyes, pretending to peer over his shoulder at a sun-beaten yellow and orange control tower.

We wheeled our luggage on an uneven cement sidewalk toward a one-story blue building with a few white pickup trucks parked next to it. As soon as we walked inside an air-conditioned space, my eyes immediately watered from heavy cigarette and cigar smoke. I hoped we didn’t have to stay long. A hefty man, wearing a dark green uniform and a sour attitude, sat in a booth behind a tall plexiglass wall that had a narrow opening at the bottom for documents. He barked something in Spanish and Andrew replied warmly, sliding our passports into the opening, a thin stack of money squashed between them.

WTF! Was that a bribe?

Of course not, right? Andrew was just purchasing our visas. Was Colombia one of the nations that issued a tourist visa on arrival? Nausea roiled in the pit of my stomach, and I wiped clammy hands on my dress. It could have been nerves or the nasty air.

After what seemed like forever, the Colombian officer stated something, then gave me a long stare, then William. Andrew spoke again, his beaming smile never leaving his face. With a loud boom, the man stamped all three passports and slid them back. Andrew thanked him and nodded for us to follow him outside through the main entrance.

“Is everything okay?” I hurried after Andrew, who was marching in the direction of a row of parked cars. “He didn’t look pleased.”

“Everything’s fine,” he said as he strode toward the only yellow cab.

Power lines zigzagged above the busy road. People crowded the street, carrying grocery bags, sitting in plastic café chairs, or scrolling on their phones while standing at a dingy bus stop. Shops and cafés were painted in shades of yellow, blue, and purple, and in different stages of deterioration. Some buildings were in better upkeep than others, but all had iron bars across windows and doors, and some had circular barbed wire on their roofs. Lovely . Hopefully, wherever we stayed tonight would be in a nicer part of town.

“Last night, I read that tourists are supposed to arrive at Medellin or Bogotá airport to go through immigration,” I said. “This place doesn’t look like either of those cities. Did you bribe that man?”

We stopped at the car and a man climbed out to stand beside the open trunk.

William pulled me into a side hug and stretched out his arm, holding his phone. “Our first selfie in Colombia. Say cheese.” He grinned at the camera while I scowled at Andrew, who was showing the driver a piece of paper, presumably explaining where we needed to go. The man nodded and climbed back into the driver’s seat. Andrew loaded his bag, then took hold of my suitcase, but I didn’t let go.

“Explain your questionable behavior with border control, or I’ll be happy to fly back to Costa Rica.”

“There’ll be time later to answer your questions. Now, please let go of your bag.”

We both knew I was bluffing. Damn it. I needed that money. I relaxed my grip, marched around the car, and slumped into the back seat. William helped Andrew load his luggage, then slid in next to me.

“This looks like a cute town,” he said.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” My stare bored into Andrew’s back as he stood outside and typed a message on his phone.

“You said the same thing when we flew into Moscow,” William said, looking for a seatbelt and then giving up because there wasn’t one.

My hand nervously twisted the bracelet on my wrist. “We didn’t have to bribe anybody to enter the country.”

Andrew took the front passenger seat and said, “?Vámonos? ”

Never in my life had I wished more that I’d paid better attention in Spanish class in high school.