It was supposed to be a simple mission. It would have been. Mansions—the breadth and size of them and the fact that they contained a multiplicity of rooms—made it easy to sneak around. There were so many places to hide. Weren’t really optimal for security. That was Virginia’s opinion anyway. It was the meeting with the now-dead prostitute that was haunting Virginia. Reynolds had killed the young girl. She was twenty-five. She had been sold into sex slavery in her teenage years. Was a prisoner in Reynolds’ house in Mexico City.

Virginia had met her the day prior and they’d even talked for hours. Virginia had promised to rescue her. The conversation had gone something like this:

“If you are who you say you are, you can get me out of here.”

Her name was Carmen. She only spoke in Spanish. Virginia had never gotten the story of how she’d been captured.

“I am, and I will.”

Carmen had tears in her eyes. “Do you promise?”

Virginia had nodded. Looked right into Carmen’s hazel eyes. “I do. I promise.”

Shannon was practically yelling into her headset. Well, yelling, to Shannon, had a different definition than it had to others. Her voice was slightly raised and stern and upset.

“He’s not in the database. I don’t know who Jake Turner is.”

Virginia could hear Shannon just fine. Her mind was juggling a few lines of thought. One, that just because he wasn’t in the database didn’t mean he wasn’t CIA. It was normal practice to expunge an agent from official records when the agent was in deep cover, which Jake was if he had been able to get onto this plane. She knew he was CIA. She could tell. Two, she was thinking about how Jake had been unaffected by her sensual touches. Usually that kind of thing worked to throw guys off a little. Three, Reynolds’ bodyguard was at the bathroom door, and she happened to know that Reynolds wouldn’t be answering.

She had to distract the guy.

She could tell by the guy’s demeanor and face that he wouldn’t be subdued by cheap tricks. She’d have to be a bit more imaginative. It didn’t take more than two seconds to think up a simple excuse.

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“He has headphones in,” said Virginia.

The man looked at her. “What?”

“He had headphones in his ears. He was listening to music.”

Virginia wasn’t sure if George Reynolds was the kind of man to listen to music by way of headphones, or listen to music in general. His loyal bodyguard would know. She was about to find out. The guy thought about it for a few long seconds, then he knocked on the door louder this time, and spoke much louder, his voice booming. “Mr. Reynolds. Are you okay?”

Apparently, he’d believed Virginia, but it wasn’t stopping him from doing his job.

“He must be listening to Van Halen,” Jake said, adding a shrug towards Virginia.

The bodyguard knocked a few times, much harder. The thin door pushed in from the frame in response to each strike. “Mr. Reynolds.”

Virginia needed another excuse.

Thunder roared overhead and the plane shook.

Shannon was pacing again. She could hear everything. She was trying to calm her pulse, which was at a dangerously high level. Telling herself that Jake Turner might possibly still be CIA even though he wasn’t in the database seemed to help a little. She knew that deep cover agents were often expunged from official records. It was just hard for her not to trust computers. Computers were her life. Virginia’s life was guns and bullets and impressions and gut feelings. She’d be okay, Shannon told herself.

She heard the bodyguard’s booming voice much louder now, which meant that either Virginia had stepped closer to the man or the man was about to bust through the door.

Then Shannon realized that Virginia might fly to the extreme again.

“Don’t kill him!”

There are other ways, Virginia thought, responding in her mind to Shannon.

This man was obviously not going to be distracted from this situation. He was attracting attention from those in the fuselage. From the other guards.

Thunder cracked.

Virginia moved, taking Jake’s hand and guiding him past the bodyguard. She released his hand once they reached the aisle. Several passengers were standing, looking down toward the bathrooms.

Virginia simply looked down, not wanting to attract attention. The passengers and some of the guards were glancing at her and Jake, but mostly they were looking past them towards the noise of the guard at the bathroom door.

Virginia began moving faster. She made eye contact with one of the passengers and said somewhat loud for the benefit of those around, “Something happened to Reynolds.”

Jake stayed close behind her.

There was only one bodyguard at the bar. He watched them as they walked past. Virginia walked to the cockpit doors and knocked on them.

The copilot answered. Virginia had memorized their voices when she’d first met them. “What is it?”

“I have coffee.”

They didn’t respond. But Virginia could hear one of them shifting out of their seat. Walking to the door. The moment the door opened, Virginia pushed past Brandon Keith and pulled Jake in behind her.

“Hey, what’s—”

Virginia shut the cockpit door behind her, locked it.