She kept up her silent self-talk, even when the plane stopped. She glanced out the window. It seemed like there was a lot of pavement in front of them.
Someone—the pilot maybe—asked everyone to be seated. They were ready to hurtle themselves up into the air and hope for the best. Oh, heavens. She pressed her hand to her stomach. Maybe she should have stayed in San Diego. The ocean was looking pretty good, and working for a bunch of crooks seemed like a walk in the park. She looked out the window again, but when the plane began to move once again, she tucked her head against her raised knees, closed her eyes, and concentrated on her breathing.
She wished now that she’d told Trent how nervous she was and asked for him to sit and hold her hand. The plane left the ground, bounced once, and her stomach dropped.
Trent plopped into the seat next to her. He covered her hand with his. “Nice take-off.”
“Nice?” She squeaked out the word.
He put his arm around her. “Hey! You didn’t tell me you were afraid to fly.”
“I’m not. I’m afraid of falling out of the sky.”
He smiled. “That’s not happening. We have parachutes on board.”
She swallowed. The plane banked sharply to the left, and she wrapped her arms around Trent. “I’m not jumping out of any plane.”
He used the fingers of his closest hand to lift her chin. “We’re not going to need to jump. You’re going to be just fine. Look—don’t you want to see the sights? We’ll be flying over the Grand Canyon, and most of Kansas, and the Atlantic Ocean. You won’t believe how beautiful the sunrise is from thirty-thousand feet. And we’ll refuel in New York and I’ll get you a New York pizza. Now, how about some champagne? We should be at our cruising altitude in a few minutes. Things will smooth out then.”
The plane hit something that sent a tremor throughout the small craft and a drop in altitude that had her stomach dropping. She grabbed for Trent.
“You okay, Chloe?” Slade asked from behind them.
“Just nerves.”
She heard movement, and Slade came over to them, a glass of something in his hand, which held a dark amber liquid. “I’m not much of a drinker, Chloe, but I share your sentiments about flying. I hate it. My stomach wants to jump out of my throat, I’m never really sure the plane will stay in the air, and I always have the impulse to kiss the ground after we land. I recommend good whiskey. It makes flying tolerable.”
Chloe took the drink and downed it. Fire slid down her throat and burst into a conflagration in her stomach. Trent stared at her. She handed the glass back to Slade. “What, you think a Wyoming girl doesn’t know how to drink? My daddy may have abused that gift, but I’m not about to turn down a medicinal tot if I need one. Can I have some more?”
Slade smiled. “You have fine taste in whiskey.” He poured her another glass, brought one for himself, and sat opposite her. “Trent tells me you’ve agreed to a trial run working for Slade Security.”
She glanced at Trent. “That’s not decided yet.”
“Really? Then can I ask a favor of you? When we reach Jawhara, I could use your assistance in looking at the videotapes from the airport. I need someone who knows the members and associates of Guardians of the Earth. This is important, so could you help?”
He made it sound vital—made it sound as if he couldn’t do this without her, but she suspected he could. She found herself nodding and telling him she’d try. The warmth from the whiskey spread through her. She almost wanted a third glass, but she knew her limits.
Slade smiled. “All I ask is for a good effort. I would like you to have Trent, or someone from security, with you at all times.”
Chloe sat up. “You want me watched? You think I’m working with the Guardians and terrorists?”
Trent tightened his hold on her hand. “The other way around. If the wrong person from Guardians sees you, that could be trouble—for you. It’s for your safety.”
She frowned. “I don’t imagine I’ll feel comfortable going anywhere on my own. How long are we going to be in Jawhara?”
Slade leaned back in his seat. “A few days. As soon as we identify the players involved in the threat, Talib and his security team will take over. We’re also tracing the money trail.”
She blinked. “Money?”
Slade smiled. “Trent’s idea. He arranged for a donation to the Guardians. We suspect most of that will go into off-shore accounts in the Caymans. From there, we’ll be able to trace who else has been buying the eco-terrorism of the Guardians to use it as corporate sabotage.”
She pushed out a breath. “I still can’t believe they’ve been doing this.”
Slade lifted a hand, and Trent shrugged and said, “Once we clean out the problem in the Guardians, they may be able to go back to doing good; but if we can’t do this quietly, the press will kill them. Non-profits who’ve had directors lining their own pockets tend to lose all of their donations pretty quickly.”
Chloe’s stomach knotted. “I never meant…I didn’t think this would kill the organization. Can’t you do something? They’re doing good.”
Slade stood. “Let’s see how it plays out and then we’ll look at what’s worth salvaging.” He walked away, but Chloe couldn’t help thinking that was a hard attitude to take. Did she really want to work for a man who seemed so callous?