The house still wasn’t pretty, but it was livable, and getting better by the hour. Bebe Kincaid had settled into one of the guest bedrooms the day before and was unleashing the full force of her OCD on the place. Surfaces were being scrubbed, holes were being spackled, and hastily purchased knickknacks were being put into place with the aid of her personal ruler.
Rapp frowned as he continued to study the airport through dark sunglasses. Not only was he about to be living with two of the craziest people he’d ever met, but they were crazy in exactly opposite ways. One wandered indifferently through combat situations that she forgot about the next day. The other traveled with her own measuring devices and remembered everything.
He pulled his phone from his pocket and pretended to scroll through the screen. After a few more minutes, he spotted Sadie in the flow of people coming from baggage claim. He didn’t react immediately, instead evaluating her in his peripheral vision.
She was wearing the same style and brand of sunglasses that Claudia had bought a few months before. Her hair was exactly the right cut and color but much of it was hidden beneath a floppy straw hat. Her loose-fitting dress wasn’t familiar but definitely reflected Claudia’s style—a subtle red that descended to midcalf before meeting a pair of leather boots. Even more interesting was the fact that Sadie’s face had filled out enough to hide her sharp cheekbones. From what he’d been told, it wasn’t makeup; it was the result of a crash diet of six Big Macs a day with accompanying fries and milkshakes.
The overall effect was incredible. With twenty yards of distance still between them he had no criticisms of her appearance and only minor ones relating to the way she moved—something Legion would have no way to gauge. It was so good that he was starting to feel a glimmer of hope that this could actually work.
Rapp made a show of spotting her and pushed himself off the wall. A moment later they were in a warm embrace and he was taking charge of her rolling suitcase. It seemed crazy, but she even smelled like Claudia.
They walked through the doors and into the sun, Sadie nuzzling his shoulder in a way that would make it impossible for anyone watching to get a full view of her features. She chatted amiably as they walked to the parking area, speaking with a French accent that was virtually identical to Claudia’s. He responded appropriately, asking vague questions about Anna’s well-being and detailing his progress on the house.
If Legion saw through this, they were a hell of a lot more observant than he was.
Cyrah Jafari was behind the wheel of her rental car two rows from where Mitch Burhan had parked his recently repaired armored SUV. Following him there without being seen was a trivial matter because she didn’t have to follow him per se. All she had to do was follow the team of Americans that hounded his every step. Why they were so interested was still a mystery. None had the look of operators, making them poor choices to move against or protect him. They appeared to be content to just spectate.
The police had publicly stated that no charges were being brought against Burhan and with predictable misogyny, made the assumption that the Guatemalans had been after him and not Claudia. What could a pretty little Frenchwoman possibly have done to anger a Central American drug lord? Surely she was an irrelevant bystander, someone whose role was limited to stifling her tearful screams while her man protected her.
Which, admittedly, he’d done with disturbing competence. As was always the case with Claudia Gould, she’d chosen wisely. Finding someone both willing and capable of dealing with her past wouldn’t be easy.
Cyrah sank a little deeper in the leather seat and let out a long breath. So many unknowns. In reality, too many. But she could feel the blood pumping through her veins and the intoxicating trickle of adrenaline mixing with it.
One of Burhan’s watchers suddenly scurried from his position at the front of the airport and Cyrah focused on the doors. A moment later the trickle of adrenaline turned into a flood.
It was her.
The return of Burhan, the flurry of activity at the house, and the appearance of a middle-aged woman who seemed to be some kind of servant had been encouraging, but far from conclusive. With Marroqui neutralized, the hope had been that Claudia would feel safe enough to return and take control of the renovations of her home. On the other hand, the fact that Legion had been contracted suggested that Marroqui wasn’t the only person looking to settle an old score with her. Would she be aware of that? Apparently not.
Cyrah followed them with her eyes as they made their way across the parking lot. Claudia looked quite lovely in a dusty red dress, leather boots, and straw hat. Her companion was equally attractive—vaguely Arab-looking with long hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and an athletic gait.