Life Of Lies

“Surely you don’t think—”

He waited for her to finish the sentence, then saw the moment it clicked. If someone would go to the lengths required to bomb her private elevator, why wouldn’t they also try to destroy her jet? She stopped talking, rinsed out her mouth and toothbrush, and put the toothbrush away.

“We don’t have tickets,” Lucy said.

“Yes, we do,” Brendan said. “All three in first class.”

“This is going to be a nightmare,” Lucy muttered from the bedroom, having overheard their new plans.

“It’s already a nightmare,” Sahara said, now fully on board with Brendan’s plan. “Don’t argue. Brendan, I’m going to get dressed, so look away.”

“What time is the flight?” Lucy asked.

“It boards in a couple of hours. We have time. Trust me,” he said, and then stood in the doorway between the two rooms with his back to theirs while Sahara dressed.

When she was finished, he loaded them and the bags into the Hummer before sliding into the driver’s seat to buckle up. Sahara looked years younger than her thirty-three years. Her hair was dry, and she’d piled a fierce tangle of dark curls on her head. The expression on her face was somewhere between anger and despair. He hated to see the usual fire in her tamped down so early in the morning.

“Hey.”

Sahara looked up, thinking not for the first time that her bodyguard looked like a giant-size version of Channing Tatum. Then she realized he was asking her a question and tuned back in to what he was saying.

“Breakfast will be compliments of a McDonald’s drive-thru. What’s your poison? Biscuits and gravy, or breakfast burritos?”

“She doesn’t eat that greasy fast food,” Lucy snapped.

“Yes, I do,” Sahara said. “My trainer doesn’t like it, but yes, I do. I’ll take a sausage-and-egg burrito with hot sauce and a Diet Dr Pepper.”

Brendan stifled a smile. Dr Pepper for breakfast was not something he’d imagined a woman like Sahara would order.

“How about you, Miss Lucy?”

Lucy sighed. “A bacon-and-egg biscuit and orange juice.”

“Harold sent me new ID and credit cards. Use mine to pay,” Sahara said, as she dug them out of her new purse.

“No, ma’am. Too easy to find you that way,” Brendan said.

Sahara blinked. “Oh. I didn’t think...” she mumbled, and dropped them back into the purse.

“Don’t worry. It’s all covered and often part of the job,” he said.

Sahara glanced at his profile and the size of his hands on the steering wheel and wondered if everything about him was supersize, then looked away and closed her eyes and chided herself for thinking it. No one knew the toll it was taking for her to go home. The only plus side to any of this was that her mother was no longer able to hurt her. Maybe she should feel guilty for thinking that, but she didn’t. It was the truth.

Brendan parked his Hummer in airport parking, which meant they were now carrying their own bags into the terminal to check-in. Sahara was pulling her carry-on and often running a couple of steps to keep up with his pace.

When they reached check-in and then the security checkpoint, she was recognized almost instantly, and they were forced to rush through the process to beat the chaos that followed.

Once they were headed for their gate, Brendan took her carry-on as well as Lucy’s. People began calling out Sahara’s name and taking pictures at random, even trying to stop her for autographs. It was all business as usual for Sahara, but this was why she preferred to take her private jet when she traveled.

Word spread to the usual paparazzi, who were always present at Los Angeles International, that Sahara Travis was in the building and on the move. But it didn’t stop Lucy’s intent when she held up progress long enough to get water and magazines before they were off again.

Brendan saw them first, but when Sahara noticed the paparazzi coming toward her like rats escaping the sewers to feed, she moved closer to him. He glanced at her face and saw panic.

“Sahara, you just keep moving. I’ve got this. Lucy! Flank her and don’t stop walking.”

“Okay,” Lucy said, and moved even closer to her boss as they headed for their gate.

The first photographer made the mistake of getting too close and then wouldn’t give way. Brendan’s hands were full of carry-on luggage when he bumped into him, knocking him to the floor.

“He pushed me!” the photographer yelled, and in that moment, Sahara lost her cool.

She spun on the lot of them, shouting.

“His hands are full, so just get out of the way. He never touched you. You all know someone is after me, everyone’s heard. Is it one of you? Is it you?” she cried, looking down at the photographer who’d gotten dumped onto his ass. “You didn’t have to get that close to take a picture. What were you trying to do? Someone call the police! I want him arrested. He might be the man trying to kill me.”

A look of horror spread across the man’s face. This wasn’t going as he’d planned.

“No, no, it’s not me. Hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just wanted a good shot—”

But it was too little, too late. Airport security arrived and took him into custody as the other photographers quickly scattered.

Sahara grabbed her own carry-on and glanced up at Brendan.

“Okay to go now?”

He arched an eyebrow and grinned. “I believe so, and...thanks. I feel so much safer now.”

Sahara grimaced. “I’m tired, I’m scared, I really don’t want to set foot back in New Orleans, and I don’t have time for lawsuits, so I lost it, okay?”

He was shocked by her admission. He couldn’t hug her, so he took back her carry-on with his last two free fingers and curled them tight.

“Follow me, boss. We’re almost there,” he said.

Sahara followed, willing herself not to cry.

Lucy saw the flush of emotion on Sahara’s face and knew enough to stay silent.

They finally reached the gate, and when the people at check-in recognized her again, they hustled her little entourage through the line and boarded them early.

“Thank you,” Sahara said, as the flight attendant seated them.

“You’re welcome, Miss Travis. As soon as we get the passengers loaded, I’ll be back to take your drink orders.” Then she glanced at McQueen. “Sir, can I help you stow your luggage?”

“I’ve got it, but thanks,” Brendan said.

A calm settled over Sahara as she took the window seat and buckled herself up. Lucy was in the seat directly in front of her and Brendan was in the aisle seat beside her. For the first time in days, she felt safe.

Lucy got up on her knees and looked over the seat at Sahara, still intent on doing her job to keep her comfortable.