Page 40 of Damaged

I’m not even thinking. I can’t see. My hair has flown in front of my face, and I hear glass shattering in the little galley kitchen behind me.

There’s another rock of turbulence. I close my eyes and try to protect my head. I want to ball myself up, but the movement of the plane is too violent to let me. I want to scream again when I feel a strong grip on both of my arms.

I’m lifted like I’m weightless.

I think it’s turbulence again, but it’s not. It’s James. He pulls me onto the couch so I’m halfway on top of him. He holds me against his chest with one arm while the other is outstretched and holding on to the coffee table for support.

There’s another bump, and the two of us rise into the air before crashing back down.

Then it’s still. We’re both silent, tense, and bracing for the next plummet, but a minute passes, and none comes.

His hand that supports me moves to my neck, and he rubs it with his thumb in light circles. It steadies my breathing. Calms me down. Distracts me. It’s warm but the sensation on my skin is like an ice cube. It leaves me so sensitive I could gasp.

“Sorry, Mr. Callaway,” the captain says. “That should be the worst of it, but stay put.”

James and I are still quiet. I’m still lying on him, but I’m too scared to think it’s weird. I could let him touch my neck until we landed. Longer. But his hand moves away.

“I thought we were going to die,” I say, breathless from fear.

“Me, too,” James says calmly. If he did think we were going to die, his tone and breath don’t show it.

I don’t move to sit. I let him hold me. The smart thing to do would be to find a seat and quickly buckle in, but I’m frozen. His muscular arm is wrapped around my waist, and it presses into my belly, which is already sensitive from adrenaline.

First the car, now this. “Maybe this trip has awakened an Egyptian curse,” I say.

“I think it’s just a rough travel day,” James says and moves me so I’m sitting and not lying on him anymore. I didn’t want it to end. He’s a jerk, sure, but it turns me on when he’s protective.

I feel a safety with James that I haven’t felt with any other man. It’s not just his size and height. Or his money.

There’s a collectedness to him. He’s not fazed by danger. It just felt like the plane was going to be swallowed by the cold Atlantic, and he didn’t bat an eye.

“We should take our seats,” James says, patting my leg and breaking the spell.

“Yeah,” I say. “Thanks for saving me.”

“It would be a tragedy to losebothmy Egypt experts.”

I smile and go back to my seat. And to be perfectly honest, the next time I go to the bathroom, I silently pray for more turbulence.

Sophia

We land smoothly in Cairo in the early evening. The sun has already set. All that’s left of it is an orange tinge on the horizon.

We walk down the stairs onto the hot runway, where there’s a white Rolls Royce waiting for us. A big white man with a buzzcut is in the passenger seat. He wears a black suit and navy tie.

“Sophia, this is Brock, my head of security,” James says as we get into the car. “He’ll be joining us for the duration of our trip here.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say, but Brock just nods at me in the rearview mirror.

“We’re staying at the Golden Oasis,” James says. “Your suite is directly below mine. It goes without saying, don’t leave the hotel.”

“Oh. So, it’s just like home, neighbor.”

I can tell from James’s plain expression that he’s back to being icy. “Tomorrow morning, we’re going to Malik Karim’s estate. Have you heard of him?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“He’s the richest man in the country. One of the only old elites who kept his wealth after the Arab Spring, and his artifact collection rivals some museums. He has a specific set of items he would be willing to part with. Your job is simple. While he has his own team who will tell us the history and value, you will verify the artifact’s significance and potential price. Can you do that?”

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