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Quinn winced inwardly. Her father was big on improvisation, and it sometimes backfired spectacularly. “Okay. Do I need any particular clothing? Something all black?”
“That’s included in your itinerary. One question. Are you comfortable with a handgun?”
Quinn shifted in her chair, making it creak. Uncle Pete had taught her how to load and shoot a pistol when she was twelve, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit that. It made her feel like the criminal she was trying hard not to be. “I’m pretty rusty.”
He nodded. “When we get back, I’ll have an instructor help you brush up. It’s a useful skill.”
“There’s something I want to tell you about Pete Gleeson’s visit,” she said. “I’m loaning him money. He took me in when I was a kid, and my father was in prison. I’ve always called him Uncle Pete.” It was a relief to be honest about her past since Mikel already knew most of it. Now she understood better Gabriel’s desire to talk with her.
“It’s unlikely that he will repay you.”
“I know.” She smiled at her boss. “Luckily, you pay me enough that I won’t starve.”
Mikel didn’t return the smile. “Your loyalty is admirable, but be careful about letting your past interfere with your future. It’s better to make the break a clean one.”
An unsettling mix of anger and fear roiled in her gut. “I would never do anything illegal, no matter what Uncle Pete asked.”
“That’s not what concerns me. I’m worried about you losing the savings you’ve earned with your hard work.” He glanced toward one of the murals for a moment. “People like Gleeson keep coming back for more.”
She sighed. “The next time I’ll say no.”
“Good.”
She started to stand when a thought struck her. “Are both the prince and Gabriel flying together on the royal jet? Isn’t it risky to have the two closest heirs to the throne on one airplane? What if the whole thing is a trap of some kind? Or something happens to the airplane?”
A look of pained approval crossed Mikel’s face. “You’re beginning to think like a security expert. After much debate, General Ramos and I decided that this was the best option. There will be many, many precautions taken.”
She was glad it was her boss’s responsibility, not hers.
“At least if the plane goes down, I will go with it. Ramos will still be here to deal with the fallout.” Mikel’s smile was grim.
Very early the next morning, Quinn stepped out of the chauffeured sedan to find herself in a huge hangar that held only a single Gulfstream jet. She stood and stared. Even standing still, the gleaming white plane’s backswept wings, streamlined nose, and aft-mounted twin engines gave the illusion of speed. On the hull, elegant silver lettering spelled out El Dragón with a small crown resting on the top of the D. It was subtle but proud.
“Raul and I call it the Dragon Jet.” She jumped as Gabriel’s baritone came from beside her. His eyes were lit with ironic appreciation. “Sort of like the Batmobile.”
She choked on a laugh. “Does your uncle know that?”
“Probably. Honestly, when you live on an island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, it makes sense to have a jet.” He gestured her toward the stairs leading into the plane’s cabin.
“My bag…” She glanced around, noticing a lot of grim-faced people in dark suits stationed around the hangar—some of Mikel’s precautions.
“It has already been loaded on the plane.”
“Oh. Wow.” She walked toward the jet, thinking what a crazy luxury it was to have her bag whisked away without her even noticing.
As she began to climb the metal steps, she was aware of Gabriel right behind her, his weight making the steps vibrate under her feet as he ascended. She concentrated on not tripping, even as her nerve endings did a primitive dance.
A male flight attendant stood at the door, dressed in gray trousers and a blue-green blazer with the El Dragón logo embroidered on the pocket. “Welcome, Señorita Pierson. We will be serving breakfast as soon as the plane is at cruising altitude. In the meantime, may I offer you a beverage?”
“Coffee, black, would be great, thank you.”
As Gabriel entered the cabin, the attendant bowed. “Don Gabriel, would you like your usual?”
“Yes, please, Isaac.”
She forgot all about Gabriel when she turned toward the cabin. She had a vague impression of cognac leather seats and glossy wood paneling, but her attention was drawn to the man talking to Mikel and Prince Raul—King Luis IV.
His perfectly tailored navy suit set off the silver in his salt-and-pepper hair and short, neat beard. He was tall and lean, and she could see Gabriel’s family resemblance in the high cheekbones and light eyes, although the king’s were an icy blue.
