Page 20 of Operation Heartbeat

Con was used to jet lag. He could land on foreign soil and hit the ground running on no sleep.

Sophie was made of softer stuff.

After she got the computer tablet back into her capable hands, she worked on the cryptogram for five long hours. He pulled the puzzle up on his phone screen too, trying to see if hecould make any connections. He quickly gave up, while Sophie labored on until she finally declared her eyes were crossing and she was going to take a nap.

After wrapping a thick black shawl around herself, she promptly fell into a heavy sleep. She slept through the turbulence they hit somewhere over the Atlantic, but he checked on her several times. The plane only jostled her side to side, while she slumped into a more comfortable position and slept on.

Meanwhile, he’d battled his way through her file. And yeah, she totally had him pegged. He was dyslexic, and though he’d taught himself how to read—no thanks to his teachers throughout the years—he didn’t like doing it. He relied on his brain to remember everything he heard or was told.

Words were like cryptograms to him—a jumble of letters that were painstaking to figure out. But he read Sophie’s file from top to bottom just trying to read between the lines.

Everything seemed cut-and-dry. Facts, as she said. So what made her so on edge when she read it?

She’d been sleeping for about four hours now, slumped in a seat with her head twisted hard to the side, giving him a view of her usually animated features in repose.

Her small nose and pouty lips made her look like a doll. Long, dark lashes fanned over her pale cheeks. He’d traveled the world several times over and if he had to guess, she had European DNA, probably French.

Watching her sleep made him feel like an intruder, but they wouldn’t be in the air for much longer. The plane was beginning its descent. Before they landed and Sophie was asked to play the role of a new wife she hadn’t prepared for, he should wake her. Give her a chance to get her bearings.

He watched her face for any flickers of waking. When he saw none, he dropped his gaze to her chest, watching it rise and fall too rhythmically to be on the verge of getting up anytime soon.

If it were one of his guys, he’d ruthlessly shake them. He couldn’t bring himself to do that to Sophie.

He reached across the aisle and gently nudged her shoulder. She jolted, eyes snapping open. For a minute, they rolled wildly as she took in their surroundings.

Then she leaned forward and ran her palm over her face. “Where are we?” Her voice was a harsh rasp.

He handed her an unopened bottle of water, he had on the seat next to him. “We’re starting to descend. I thought you may want to freshen up before we land.”

She nodded, stretching her fingers through her brown hair. While she slept, he noticed how it wasn’t just boring brown but several shades of the color, from dark honey to deep chestnut.

The shawl had slipped down her body and pooled on her lap. She drew it off and set it aside before uncapping the water and taking a long drink.

“How long was I out?” Her voice sounded smoky from sleep.

“Four hours, give or take.”

She groaned. “I’m going to use the restroom.” She slipped into the aisle, her purse in hand.

While she was sleeping, he’d formed a loose plan of action, and he needed to catch her up on it. Even with the CIA working to locate the person of suspicion, he and Sophie had a lot of work ahead of them.

First thing was sitting her down with a laptop to work on that cryptogram some more. Second, they needed to find this guy and make him talk.

He was sifting through the steps when a scent hit his nose—something sweet and delicious.

Twisting, he looked toward the rear of the plane to see Sophie coming toward him, appearing much more bright-eyed. She had to be the source of that smell.

He watched her jaw to see if she had popped some gum into her mouth, but she wasn’t chewing.

A hard candy, then.

As she got within a foot of him, he drew a deep breath to pick up the scent. Sweet fruit and a natural freshness like a burst of summer air.

The smell wafted over him as she slipped into her seat. He glanced at her. She’d smoothed the flyaway strands of hair that he’d noticed got more unruly as she slept, even though she was completely still.

Why was he looking at her hair? He was a SEAL, not a fucking hairdresser.

“You need to prepare for what happens when we land.”

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