"Well, hello there, gentlemen," the masculine bass rumbled.
Danny.
Even with eleven years more testosterone in-fused into deepening his voice, she would recognize that hint of a drawl anywhere. No rushing. Even in the middle of an unstable country, on a darkened runway where threats lurked in countless shadows… Danny didn't hurry for anyone. Life followed him. He never followed life.
His ambling lope thudded closer. Could they hear her heart thump outside the box?
A second set of footsteps sounded. Faster. Cigar smoke wafted through the thin slits between boards. The distinctive scent of imported Cubans favored by the Rubistanian guard from the embassy snaked around her.
The slower bootsteps, Daniel's, stopped. "How downright neighborly of you to offer an escort, but my folks here can handle things now."
"We have procedure to follow in my country, Cap-i-tain," the guard clipped out in heavily accented English.
"Lighten up there, Sparky. I know all about your procedure. The paperwork's pristine … well, except for some ketchup on the edge there from my fries. Now back on up so my loadmaster can finish the transfer."
Daniel's affected flippancy reached into the box with calming comfort. And unwelcome arousal. His voice shouldn't still have the power to strum her numbed senses to life, especially not now. She wasn't a teenager anymore. She was a mature woman with control over her life. She'd moved on after the debacle with Danny. Married someone else.
Bad example.
Lighten up, 'Lise. Danny's mantra echoed in her head through the years. Life's just not that complicated.
She wished.
"Time to head on out, Sparky," Daniel called, casual and irreverent as ever. "The sooner Tag over there can load up and lock down, the sooner we'll get off your runway and out of this … garden spot."
A trail of tangy smoke slithered into the box. "What is your hurry, Cap-i-tain?"
"Hurry?" Daniel's bass rumbled closer, louder. The truck shifted with the weight of another body. "I need to head home for my annual pilgrimage to the Frito-Lay factory. Besides, my copilot's just a kid and it's past her bedtime."
"Hey, now," a female voice called from below. "Frito-Lay? I thought you were going to Hershey, Pennsylvania."
"That was last month, Wren."
"And you didn't bring me any chocolate? I'm crushed."
"I thought about you. But what can I say? I got hungry on the way home."
Their lighthearted voices filled the box, and Mary Elise resented the twinge of envy over his easy rapport with the copilot. She'd once shared that same relationship with Daniel until the summer their friendship had spiraled into something more. So much more.
Memories swirled in the murky box with oppressive weight. So Daniel still loved his junk food. They'd met twenty-two years ago over a chocolate Ho-Ho. She'd pulled the treat from her Holly Hobby lunch box to thank him for bloodying Buddy Davis's nose after the bully made fun of her Yankee accent.
Did Daniel still like video games, too? Hide his genius brain behind jokes?
Kiss with an intense thoroughness that turned a woman's insides to warmed syrup?
A hand patted the box once, again, and again, with slow reassurance. Daniel. "And speaking of hungry," he said, his hand thumping a lulling lazy beat. "There's a flight lunch and a bag of licorice with my name written all over it waiting in the cockpit. Let's step this up."
Smoke spiraled inside, mingling with the ripe scent of fresh-cut boards. A low wheeze hissed from Trey. His head fell back against her arm as he sucked in air.
Tension stretched inside her. Mary Elise rubbed a soothing hand along his back, a poor substitute for his inhaler, but all she could risk. The smoke, cedar and fear were too much for anyone, much less a child with asthma. As if these kids hadn't already been through enough with their parents' "accidental" deaths and a Rubistanian uncle trying to claim them … and their inheritance.
All the more reason to get the children to their half brother on American soil. Screw official diplomatic channels where the boys could be in college before Rubistan coughed them up.
Mary Elise hugged the boys closer, her hair snagging along the wood. Pulling. Stinging her scalp. Hard. Her eyes watered.
Oh, God. Come on, Daniel. They needed to get rid of that guard so someone could crack open the box, let Trey breathe.
And let her out.