The Negotiator (Professionals 7)

Christopher’s hand reached out, grabbing mine, squeezing tight.

Before I could even fully process that, though, we were off.

And by off, I mean running.

We were all running.

Down the winding, narrow stairs at a breakneck pace.

Instinctively, not knowing the steps like Christopher who ran them so often, my hand tightened on his, knowing he could keep me from face-planting or tumbling if I stumbled. Oddly enough, as we went down, men from all the other cave houses were standing in their gardens, glancing around. Almost like, I don’t know, makeshift lookouts.

It seemed ludicrous. But then again, a man with the sort of power Christopher clearly had could’ve absolutely made that happen. And in doing so, gained a small army to help him plan his escape.

My free hand lifted, swiping sweat off my forehead as the men continued their relentless pace, making my breath start hissing out, my chest getting tight.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, we made it off the last step, and Christopher pulled me forward, shoving me into a waiting car, making me damn near fall into Alexander’s lap.

Christopher slid in behind me, leaving me sardined between the two men as one of the guards went into the front beside Laird and the other tossed my bags into the back of the SUV and climbed in with them.

“You gonna make it?” Alexander asked, grinning at me gulping for air.

“Don’t tease her,” Christopher demanded, reaching for a water bottle handed back to him from Laird, twisting off the top, and passing it to me. “She hasn’t been able to leave the house. Her body isn’t used to activity.”

If Alexander thought his brother’s comment was unusual, he said nothing. Both brothers turned their attention away from me as I chugged the water.

The car ride was short, pulling us up to an empty airstrip, save for the private jet parked there, waiting for us.

“I’ll be back,” the guard in the passenger seat told us, reaching into his breast pocket for a gun, the sun reflecting off of it, blinding with the mid-day sun.

He greeted the pilot, then moved inside to, I assumed, inspect the plane to make sure no one was on board who shouldn’t have been.

He came back out, giving Laird a nod. We drove closer. Christopher’s hand grabbed mine again, pulling me out of the car as Laird led Alexander inside the plane.

Christopher said something in Greek to the pilot as we moved past, one of his men moving in behind us like a human shield until we were out of sight.

I’d been in a few private jets in my life. It was about what I’d expected. There were about a dozen places to sit between the bench, the table and chairs, and the lounging chairs. The colors were white and birch, light and airy which made it feel less claustrophobic.

Christopher moved me into one of the lounging seats closest to the window, so I could watch the view.

Once we were all seated and buckled in, the pilot spoke over the speaker in Greek, most of it going over my head. I knew a couple phrases in the language, but not nearly enough to keep up with his rapid speech.

“That was pretty impressive,” I told Christopher, his gaze moving over to me, lips twitching a bit.

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Wait till you see the next part.”

NINE

Miller

Admittedly, I probably should have paid attention when we’d learned about geography in high school. Because it never ceased to surprise me how many times I went to a country and realized there was a hell of a lot more to it than I originally thought.

See, when I thought of Greece, I thought of two areas only. Athens with its rich history chock-full of tourist attractions, and Santorini with its white cave houses, and brilliant blue sky and water.

It wasn’t until we were flying over lush green spaces peppered with brown and gray mountains that I realized just how big Greece is.

“Where are we?” I asked, awe clear in my voice.

“Zagori,” Alexander supplied.

“Alexander,” Christopher snapped, since I wasn’t supposed to know where we were.

“What does it matter? She has no way to contact and tell anyone,” Alexander reasoned.

“It’s beautiful,” I concluded.

Arched stone bridges chipped from the mountains themselves stood proud over blue-green waters. “It’s so rural,” I observed, feeling like this would be the perfect spot for a vacation. Sure, beaches were beautiful and all, but this was a completely under-appreciated area.

Even as the words were out of my mouth, we flew over a small village of stone houses with stone roofs, making them almost appear as the mountains themselves instead of houses.

We didn’t fly for much longer, just finding our airstrip and descending, leaving me a little anxious to be able to see what other places Christopher called home.

“It’s like being in a different country,” I concluded, shaking my head as we stepped out of the plane.