Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
I felt the blood drain from my face. “You can assign me to someone else,” I offered again in a rush.
He ignored me. “So why did you get on the plane? Did Newcastle get sick too?”
I swallowed.
“Huh. Not sick, then. It was your choice.” He tilted his head. “Why did you add Kunduz and Samangan to the itinerary? Those weren’t on the list before you got on that plane.” He stalked forward.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“All of your little friends are sticking to the east, and Newcastle was focused on Kandahar. Something about the girls’ chess team Senator Lauren has been working to get out.”
“Hey, that was actually my project. I’m the one who’s been coordinating everything. Newcastle just wanted the credit.”
He stopped right in front of me, staring down like he could see right through me if he tried hard enough. “And yet you added two provinces to the north.”
“Nate,” I whispered, already breaking the rules.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“I . . .” I shook my head and closed my eyes. I could have lied to anyone else, but not him.
“Don’t even think of lying to me.” His thumb and forefinger gently lifted my chin. “What’s going on?”
I opened my eyes and my heart clenched. Under all that armor, this was Nate. My Nate. He would help, I knew he would . . . as long as I wasn’t putting myself in danger. That was where he’d draw the line. And if he thought I was already in danger just being here, there was every chance he’d tie me to the seat of the next outbound aircraft once I told him the truth.
“What’s in the north, Isabeau?” My name was nothing more than a whisper.
“Serena.”
CHAPTER SIX
NATHANIEL
Saint Louis
November 2011
The water was freezing, shocking the air from my lungs as we started the frantic swim for shore. At least I thought the shore was this way. The fog wasn’t exactly doing us any favors, and neither was the current, dragging us downstream with the rest of the passengers as we fought our way toward the bank.
The reactions around us varied from stoic to downright hysterical, and I did what always worked for me when shit went down—narrowed my focus to one goal. Right now, that goal was keeping Isabeau alive.
“You okay?” I asked Izzy, only losing sight of her between the waves of the Missouri as the plane submerged fully behind us, a rush of air bubbling up from the fuselage.
Holy shit, that just happened.
“Never swam in shoes before,” she answered with a teeth-chattering grunt and more of a grimace than a smile.
“It’s a day for firsts.” I swam closer to her, my heart thundering as we fought for every foot against the current.
Off in the distance, I heard someone cry for help, and another passenger answered. Hopefully the rafts could pick up more of us, especially the ones who couldn’t swim, but I was grateful that the people around us all seemed to be forging forward.
Some of my panic eased when the shore came into view through the fog, dense with trees. “It’s right there,” I told Izzy, keeping up with her, stroke for steady stroke.
“Thank God.” Her face contorted and she gasped, but she kept pushing forward.
“What’s wrong?” My chest tightened as the vision in my left eye went red and blurry. A quick swipe of my forehead came away bloody. Awesome.
“Other than the whole plane-crash scenario?” She forced a sarcastic, staccato smile through the shivers. “I’m okay, just some pain in my ribs. I’m sure it’s nothing. You’re the one bleeding.”
And she was the one with the blown pupils. I’d been knocked around enough to know the signs of a concussion.
“The blood is probably just bluster. Let’s get you to shore.” My stomach twisted, and I got that sinking feeling that sometimes came over me, the one that told me to pay attention, that there was more to whatever was happening on the surface of any given situation. I’d always had good instincts. They were the only reason I’d survived nineteen years under my father’s roof.
Ahead of us, a few of the passengers dragged others up the bank to safety. The father and son were upstream, almost there now, but I couldn’t see the mother and baby.
Just focus on Izzy.
My feet found purchase on the rocky bank, and I immediately swept my arm across Izzy’s back, pulling her against me until she could reach the bottom. It was an act of God that we’d found a portion of the river with a sloped shore. Then again, just about everything about today was miraculous.
Careful of her ribs, I pulled us up the embankment, and then the two-foot rise to the wooded area. Where the hell were we?
“Help!” a kid screamed from behind us.
I looked over my shoulder to see one of the women rushing forward from shore to pull a kid in an inflatable yellow life jacket.