Storm Clouds

She’d hated her brother for not letting her stay, and yet, he was her brother and when he called, she couldn’t ignore him as he had her.

Oh, man, she didn’t want to be here. Maybe Providence had been trying to keep her from coming. Maybe she should have turned around and left when the airline had hassled her about the gun.

The beep of a horn when she accidentally stepped out in front of a taxi brought her back to the present.

She hated Australia.

Or at least hated what it stood for.

Where was her brother?

Glancing around at the noisy area, she only wanted to be somewhere else.

Her brother’s decision to leave her in that forsaken place they’d both called home—at the mercy of her drunken uncle—had stuck with her all these years, haunting her dreams at night when she was all alone in the dark, scary night.

Her brother had left her because he felt called to become a missionary out in the bush of Australia—to start up a church. But in leaving to follow his calling, he’d left her to fend for herself. He didn’t mind being alone. She wouldn’t have minded being alone either. It would have been better than dealing with her uncle.

She didn’t like to remember that time of her life, but coming to Australia forced those memories back into the forefront of her mind.

She hadn’t talked to her brother in years because of that incident. She hadn’t seen him either.

And now he was in trouble.

Deciding her brother had forgotten to pick her up, she looked for a taxi to hail.

“Angelina Harding?”

She heard her name called and, in surprise, turned.

A man of medium build, dark hair, dark trousers and shirt stood about ten feet away. She was used to cataloguing whomever she met because of her training. A small mole under his right eyebrow barely showed above the sunglasses he wore.

“That would be me,” she acknowledged, noting he stood near a large sedan with a driver in it. She couldn’t see much else through the tinted windows.

“Your brother sent us.”

Her eyebrows shot up and she glanced at the car again. “He must be doing better than I realized,” she muttered to the man, feeling that much more angry and put out by her brother. Swinging her backpack over her shoulder, because she refused to pack more than one small case when she traveled, she headed toward the car.

“Let me take your bag,” the man murmured and reached out for it.

She shook her head and cradled the bag closer, wrapping her arms around it. “I’m fine.”

His hand brushed her side and she stepped away, not liking to be touched and wondering if all were so informal here.

Curious, she glanced at him but he’d turned away.

She sighed.

Her shoulders hurt, her neck ached. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, nap and try to adjust to the time change. “I can’t believe it,” she said as she climbed into the back seat. “He called me and demanded I show up here. Said he had to talk to me. Do you know what I dropped to be here?” She knew the man wasn’t listening as he closed the door.

He hesitated again then climbed into the front. Okay, so she was being a grouch and she realized it. But seeing this car really ticked her off. How could her brother afford something like this? It just went to show her that he was so high and mighty now, he expected to have everyone at his beck and call.

She sagged back against the soft cushions of the expensive car.

When someone makes it sound like a matter of life and death, it usually means there is something serious the matter, she thought, disgruntled. She’d been in the Secret Service and didn’t throw terms like that around idly. In frustration, she closed her eyes and laid her head back on the seat. She had really expected him to be the one to meet her at the airport. And losing it wasn’t going to help the situation. She had decided to come down here, after all, so whatever happened was just going to happen.

She’d gotten a quick look at the driver as she’d crawled in. He was dressed the same as his companion. She saw in the rearview mirror his blue eyes, however. Very blue. Bluer than the Australian sky.

The buttery leather cushioned her body and invited her to rest. When had Marcus been able to afford such a car? And why had he sent a car for her instead of picking her up himself?

The car pulled smoothly out of the airport and headed out of town. Angelina swayed with the motion of the vehicle. She rested and allowed her aching body to ease as they got under way.

And as they drove, her mind drifted to her brother. All of those years ago he’d lived in a tiny ranch house, no air conditioning, dusty, out in the middle of nowhere. He’d had a group of people who lived with him. Marcus had planned to start up a school for children out in the area. He had even bought a van to pick them up. They were scraping by, but her brother had been so excited. This was his calling as he’d labeled it.

Some calling, she thought sourly. Going out into the middle of nowhere to teach kids with an accent.

There were plenty of kids in America with accents if that’s what he liked.

She knew she was bitter. But she’d needed her brother, and he hadn’t been there. However, he needed her now and she was determined she’d be there for him. Regardless.

When her friend Joshua Staring had started a new security firm in his hometown of Baton Rouge, it had sounded like just what she wanted—what she needed. It was her calling, she thought sourly. After all, one could only take so much adrenaline rush, and when the vice-president had almost been shot under her watch, that was it for her. She was glad to be working for Joshua. Mostly.

Angelina frowned and adjusted in her seat when they hit a bump, realizing she’d dozed a bit.

She had many friends in Baton Rouge at the security firm, but most of them were Christians now, and she just didn’t fit in with their beliefs. Just like her brother. They thought one way and she another, because she knew the harsh reality of life.

The smell of aftershave reached her nostrils, distracting her from her thoughts. Her brow creased as she forced herself into a more conscious state. Her sour mood faded as she concentrated on the smell. She couldn’t remember the name but knew it was quite expensive.

Something niggled at her. Expensive car, expensive cologne. What was her brother into?

Cracking open her eyelid she glanced again at the two men in the front seats; neither had said a word. As she did, she noted something else. She’d been daydreaming longer than she realized for they were now outside of town. And the sun was on the wrong side of the car.

They were headed in the wrong direction.

Angelina might have only been here one other time, but she knew her directions.

Alarm bells went off inside her. “Um, excuse me,” she said to draw the attention of the man in the front seat. “How long before we get to where my brother is?”

The man shrugged. “Thirty minutes.” Then a window between them slowly rose.

Now fully alert, she sat up. She did her best to keep her expression nonchalant as she glanced out the window because she saw the driver watching her closely. She nodded. “No problem. It’s been many years. Just wondered.”

Something wasn’t right, and she knew if she didn’t get out of the car, she wasn’t going to see her brother.

Call it instinct. Call it woman’s intuition. Call it experience. She knew that when her insides screamed danger like this, it meant listen up.

There was nothing near the car. Mountains in the distance and desert on either side. She knew Australia wasn’t like this everywhere and wondered why her brother had chosen such a place to work. He’d told her it had its own beauty.

Right now, it only looked deserted to her. If she tried to escape she just knew that these men had guns and would shoot her.