Page 34 of Finding Lord Landry

“Do you know if they’re going to let the rest of the hostages go?” I asked. “Are they asking for ransom or are they trying to get the toxin safety rules back in place? What do they want, exactly?”

The man shot me an apologetic look. “Not sure. We’ve been head-down planning this op. The bigger-picture stuff is above my pay grade.”

I nodded. Selfishly, I was glad to be out of San Cordova, but the guilt was eating at me. It wasn’t fair that money had saved me and had left many others behind.

For the remainder of the wet ride, I tried to meditate and manifest a safe outcome for everyone we’d left behind. While it might not make a damned bit of difference to the situation, it would at least keep me from spiraling into a panic attack.

After we met up with a larger military-type ship, I tried calling Landry to let him know I was safe, but my phone was completely out of charge.

We moved onto the ship and waited while the rescue team dismantled and deflated the boat before transferring to a very large helicopter on the top deck of the ship. Within half an hour, we were airborne.

The rescue crew handed us each a paper bag with food and a bottle of water in it. I devoured the sandwich, cheese and crackers, banana, and cookies before washing it all down with the water.

I was exhausted from not sleeping for the past two days, but there was no way I could fall asleep in the current conditions. As a result, by the time we landed on the helicopter pad in Manta, I felt like the walking dead. My clothes were rough from dried sea spray, my hair was a tangled mess, and I probably had an entire luggage set under my eyes.

When we stepped off the helicopter, a handful of official-looking people were waiting for us on the tarmac, but I paid no attention. All I wanted was to get to a hotel to shower, sleep, and, most importantly, talk to Landry before finding a way back to the States. I knew if I could just hear his voice, something inside me would settle.

Long blond hair blowing in the wind caught my eye, and I took a closer look at the assembled people.

I blinked. Was I tired enough to hallucinate Landry?

I squinted into the morning sun. He was wearing familiar designer jeans and a Zee Barlo concert tee, faded to a soft black from the wash. My eyes filled as I let out a little whimper.

And then I started running.

EIGHT

LANDRY

When I saw Kenji climb down the helicopter stairs, I closed my eyes and thanked fate, Jim Winthrop, Executive Rescue, and the Brotherhood’s invention that had given me enough money to hire them.

I opened my eyes in time to catch Kenji as he crashed into me, nearly knocking us both down. My arms wrapped around him and held him tight.

“Fuck,” I breathed. “You smell awful.”

He gave a startled hiccup of laughter, and I tightened my grip even more until I worried he couldn’t breathe. Thankfully, his arms were around me just as tight.

“I hate you so much,” Kenji said with more love in his voice than I’d ever heard. “Thank you for getting me out of there.”

I turned my head and pressed a long kiss to his temple, trying to settle into the reality of having him safe in my arms,finally, when I realized I tasted blood. “Kenji, what the fuck?” I pulled away just enough to notice the dried blood at his hairline. “What did they do to you?”

Who the fuck do I need to murder?

“I’m okay, I promise. I need to find somewhere to shower and sleep.” He sounded exhausted and defeated—two words that should never be used to describe Kenji Toma.

“You can do both on the plane.” I pointed to the far side of the small airport, where the Brotherhood’s private jet was waiting.

Kenji must have recognized it and remembered it held a private suite with not only a bed but a bathroom and shower. He quickly began walking in that direction, but I nudged him toward the small airport building instead, where we had to go through a more official process before we could board the jet.

On the flight over, I’d told Jim about my preference for the name Landry. He’d agreed easily enough, but I knew it was only a matter of time before he told his son who I really was.

My stomach churned nervously. I couldn’t calm down until I’d explained everything to Kenji.

When we finally got on board, Kenji offered Jamie the first shower and took a seat in one of the leather chairs to wait. Fortunately, Jim didn’t attempt to make conversation since he was busy calling people to provide updates.

As soon as Jamie came out wearing clean clothes, the plane took off. The moment the flight attendant gave us the go-ahead to get out of our seats, Kenji bolted back to take his own shower.

I followed him into the suite in time to see him yanking off his clothes and leaving them in a pile on the ground. That was not like Kenji. The man was meticulous. Even during our most passionate encounters, he’d taken the time to set his clothes aside neatly.

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