This Year's Black (Killer Style 2)

d know better than to let a con artist into my life. How would it look to them if they realized I’d gotten mixed up with a guy like Heath?”

“Like you’re human?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Like a naive little girl with crappy taste in men who can’t be trusted to do her job.”

Devin was about to retort when the fasten-your-seat belt sign pinged.

…

Ryder’s stomach floated up and bounced against her diaphragm at the same time as the captain’s voice boomed over the intercom.

“We’re making our descent into The Andol Republic,” the pilot said over the intercom. “Please take your seats and buckle your safety belts. According to the tower, it’s seventy-two degrees and sunny today. We’ll be touching down in about twenty minutes. The car is already waiting for you, Mr. Harris.”

Nothing like a little reality to make her realize what an idiot she’d just been, spilling her guts to a client, leaving her as open and vulnerable as a baby pig from a kid’s movie. She pulled her foot out of his warm grasp. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention what I told you to anyone. I should never have told you.”

Straightening her spine, she braced for Devin’s mockery. As the youngest of five loud Italian kids and the only woman employed by the testosterone-soaked Maltese Security, she could take it.

Devin quirked an eyebrow at her. “No one will hear it from me.”

She met his light brown gaze, searching for any sign of disgust at what she’d revealed, or amusement at her expense, but all she saw was understanding. For some reason, that made the whole situation worse.

The jet swooped through a cloud bank, enveloping it in a world of thick, fluffy white that created a floating wall. They broke through it into a sky so brilliantly blue, she had to blink to adjust to the light differential. Under the cloud-dotted horizon, the deep blue ocean stretched uninterrupted as far as she could see.

The total isolation unnerved her. If they dropped out of the air right now and plummeted to a watery grave, the authorities would have a better chance of finding Amelia Earhart’s remains than the jet’s wreckage. All the nervous energy she’d managed to tuck away during the nine-hour flight came screaming to the surface, twisting her lungs into circus balloon animals.

“It’s going to be fine.” Devin’s leather-rich voice pierced her panic. “No need to be afraid.”

Falling back into an emotional defensive posture, she glared at him and his lopsided smirk. “I’m not. I like flying just fine.”

“Really?” His gaze dropped to her hands curled into talons around the armrests. “Is that why you’re about to scar the leather?”

With supreme effort, she unpeeled her fingers from the armrest and folded her hands in her lap, just as her Nonni swore a lady should. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted ten crescents carved into the tan leather.

Devin flashed a wicked grin that did crazy things to her already turbulent insides. “The Andol Republic is a chain of five islands about one thousand miles off the coast of Chile, with Andol being the largest. That’s where we’ll land. In a few minutes, you’ll be able to see Andol on the right side of the plane. There are three dormant volcanoes and two large craters that have become big tourist attractions. You can even have a picnic on the edge of the biggest crater.”

Mesmerized by his calm, tourist-guide tone, Ryder relaxed back into the seat and gazed out the window. This time the ocean below failed to pluck her nerves. The jet made a wide turn and an island appeared, a triangle of light green in the vast blue.

“Most of the main island is grassland. Early explorers’ journals reported short palm trees across Andol, but by the eighteen-hundreds, most had disappeared. No one’s sure why the trees vanished, but it had a huge effect on the local population who’d been fishermen up to that point. The lack of wood for boats meant no deep-sea fishing. There was a famine and even cannibalism—lucky for us, that’s not the case anymore. The islanders have done a lot to revive the palm tree population and celebrate their past history. There’s even a huge festival in a few days, honoring the De Mis Promesas volcano. People dress up in traditional clothes and carve intricate designs into pineapples to mark the occasion.”

The island grew larger in her window, and the floor beneath her vibrated as the pilot engaged the landing gear.

She rubbed her fingers across the indentions she’d made earlier, hoping to smooth away any residual evidence of her fear. “How many times have you been here?”

“This is my first time.” Devin gazed out the window, his face a blank mask as he contemplated the endless blue. “I don’t like surprises.”

Chapter Five

“I think there is beauty in everything.”

— Alexander McQueen

Devin turned on his cell phone and grimaced at the email from George that popped up demanding an update. Too bad he didn’t have one to give. Based on his research, Sarah should be in Andol City, either at the family farm or her favorite niece’s tea shop. Their best hope now was finding her at one of the fashion shows, but those wouldn’t start until tomorrow. Maybe, with a little luck, they’d track her down today, haul her onto the jet, and be back home first thing in the morning, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath.

And first they had to get out of the damn airport.

Tourist season was in full throttle in The Andol Republic, with extra traffic for fashion week and the volcano festival. The customs line in the small airport, weaving along through a maze of roped-off lanes, seemed as long as the one for the newest roller coaster at an amusement park. Standing behind a young couple who were having trouble keeping their hands off each other, Devin shoved his phone back into his pocket and groaned inwardly.

“Honey, I want you to keep those shoes on tonight. I can’t wait to—” The man leaned in and whispered the rest of his plans in her ear, his voice too low for Devin to catch the words. However, considering the pink flush on the blonde’s cheeks, he didn’t have to use much imagination to figure it out.