King's Ransom (Man on a Mission 2)

He’d already put in motion the soon-to-be-broadcasted Red Cross appeal, both on television within Zakhar and via the internet worldwide. Juliana’s face, her emotive voice, her appeal in both English and Zakharan, would soften the heart of anyone, and donations would pour in as soon as the edited film was available. He made a mental note to check on that first thing in the morning, before his meeting with the assessment team. The sooner the Red Cross appeals began, the better for the Taryna villagers, no matter how the Privy Council dragged its feet on the relief effort.

His smile faded when they reached the royal helicopter and he saw Juliana huddled inside, curled up in one of the seats, fast asleep. The military pilot, who’d waited with the chopper the entire day, and one of Juliana’s bodyguards—a man she wasn’t aware was her bodyguard—had both placed their jackets over her, Andre noted. But even though she was a little bit of a thing the jackets wouldn’t stretch to cover her entire body. She was wearing slacks and a long-sleeved shirt, but she wasn’t dressed for the mountains, not after the sun went down and the temperature plummeted. He cursed under his breath. Why didn’t Juliana return to Drago with the film crew earlier? he asked himself. Why did she stay here?

He climbed in, hearing the men’s apologies in a distant recess of his brain, and responding to them automatically. “Not your fault,” he reassured them. “It was mine for not making sure she was dressed for the mountains before we left Drago. You did the right thing. Thank you for looking after her as you did.”

He told himself he should wake her. Told himself anything else would be a mistake. But he couldn’t do it. He picked her up effortlessly and sat down in her seat, cradling her in his arms for a moment, and that’s when he realized she was still clutching the baby doll she’d used as a prop that morning. She’d brushed the dirt away but the damage wrought by the landslide was still evident.

She made an incoherent murmur and snuggled closer to him, closer to his warmth, but she didn’t waken. If he’d been alone with her he would have kissed her awake. But he wasn’t alone. And kissing her in front of the chopper pilot and the bodyguards—no matter how discreet they were—was out of the question. Even holding her like this was an indiscretion.

With a tiny sigh he lifted her over and deposited her in the seat next to him, then buckled her seat belt. She woke when he did that. Slowly. Her eyes fluttering open and staring up at him as if she couldn’t figure out where she was or why she was there.

“Hi,” she said, finally focusing, unable to suppress a sudden yawn. A yawn followed by an unguarded smile that took his breath away. “Everything done?”

“For today. Tomorrow is another day, but that will not affect you.” He turned away from her and reached over abruptly to accept the wireless headset the pilot handed him over his shoulder, then fitted the headset in place and buckled his seat belt. He nodded at the pilot’s questioning look, and the engines roared to life.

* * *

They were less than halfway back to Drago when one of the helicopter’s engines began stuttering, like a car that wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Juliana wasn’t worried at first. But when the helicopter began bucking and swaying, when they began losing altitude and the pilot and Andre exchanged a quick flurry of words through their wireless headsets, she grew concerned. She wanted to ask what was going on, but knew now wasn’t the time. Whatever the problem was, it wouldn’t help for her to ask frantic questions. She just had to trust in Andre’s military pilot...and Andre.

Prayer won’t hurt, Juliana decided. She’d always been uncomfortable praying for herself, but she wasn’t the only one in the helicopter. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands tightly together as she prayed, refusing to watch while the helicopter spun out of control and the earth came up shudderingly fast to meet them.

Juliana was grateful for the seat belt holding her in place, because otherwise she would have been thrown from side to side in even more sickening fashion with the buffeting the helicopter took. Then a strong arm slid around her shoulders and a large hand closed around both of hers, squeezing gently.

When she opened her eyes she saw Andre watching her with an expression she was hard-pressed to describe. Love was there, but so was reassurance. Reassurance they weren’t going to crash. And even if they did, his eyes seemed to be saying, she would walk away from it. She knew it wasn’t true. She knew if they crashed no one would walk away. But it helped. Not that she wanted to die, but it helped to know that Andre was with her, that she wouldn’t die alone.