Page 34 of Wild Card (The Trident Trilogy 3)

Mason, In-flight, Virginia Beach to Rome, 2020

“Well, this is a little different than we’re used to,” I say as we walk into the private jet.

Plush seats surround a table loaded with snacks and drinks. A big-screen television hangs from the wall with an enormous vase of fresh flowers underneath it. Butch and Hawk are already fully reclined in the captain’s chairs at the front of the cabin—eyes closed, arms folded over their chests. Raine kicked off her shoes and is stretched out on one of the couches. I pull Millie over to the couch opposite her.

“It’s one of the director’s private planes,” Raine says as she sips on a flute of orange juice. “Not too many people get on them. I swear, Millie, I think he might be in love with you.”

“Is that right?” I say, smiling as I tilt Millie’s chin up to look at me.

“You don’t need to worry about me leaving you for Paul Ward,” she says, laughing as she shakes her head. “I might leave you for Butch—”

“I heard that.” Butch peeks at us through his one open eye. “And frankly, Mills, it’s about time you realized who the real catch is here.”

I swing my legs up on the couch and pull Millie down between them—her back resting against my chest. She sits up straight—looking back at me uncomfortably.

“Wait, Mase, this is a business trip,” she says, trying to scoot to the other side of the couch.

I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her back. “It’s not like everyone on this plane doesn’t know we’re together.”

She still won’t relax back into me. She looks at Raine. “Is this weird? It’s weird, right?”

“I mean, I think we’d all appreciate if you didn’t make out—”

“Really appreciate,” Hawk says with his eyes still closed.

“But if you want to sit by each other,” Raine continues, “I don’t think anyone cares. Right, Butch?”

“Well, I mean if Mason’s not going to snuggle me, then he might as well snuggle Millie,” he says, opening his eyes slightly. “Raine, bring me some orange juice.”

“What am I? A flight attendant? You’ve got legs.” Raine leans back against the pillows on her couch and pops open her laptop.

Millie finally rests back into my chest. I give her a discreet kiss on the top of her head.

“Okay, I think we’re all getting a little too comfortable,” Millie laughs. “Raine, why don’t you get us up to date on what’s happening on the ground?”

Butch and Hawk open their eyes but don’t make any effort to sit up.

“Yep,” Raine says, putting her orange juice down and turning her computer screen to us. “Well, first, they haven’t located Amar Petrovic. He’s still missing. We found the cab that picked him up outside their flat the morning he disappeared. The cab log shows he was dropped off outside the port at Civitavecchia. Of course, that was three days ago so he could be anywhere by now. The police are looking for the cab driver. They should have questioned him by the time we arrive. Amar’s wife, Amila, still hasn’t talked to anyone. She insists on waiting for Millie. Their three kids are spread out through Europe. We have people watching them in case Amar shows up.”

“This is the guy we grabbed in Sarajevo on our first mission with you, right, Mills?” Hawk says. Raine pulls up a picture of Amar and holds it up for everyone to see.

“Yeah, you brought him back to the embassy for me to interview. He led us to Haroun Hadzic who was hiding up in the mountains—that night we got in a firefight.”

“I remember,” Hawk says. “So, at the time, you didn’t think Petrovic was involved in the network, right? He’d been living in Spain for twenty years or so, but now you think he was running the ground game for Sayid Custovic?”

“I don’t think that at all. The agency does.” Millie hesitates. “Look, full disclosure, Amar was friends with my mom. He’s the one who called my dad to tell him to get me out of Bosnia when I was a baby. And then, he contacted Dad again when Yusef Hadzic was trying to find me when I was a teenager. That’s why Dad disappeared. So my past with Amar is more than a little complicated. I’ve only talked to him that one time in Sarajevo, but I didn’t get the vibe that he was involved in my uncle’s network at all. I don’t peg him for this.”

“But there was someone coordinating for them on the ground, right? A civilian?” Butch says.

“Yeah, apparently.” Raine flips through a few documents on her computer. “Our analysts are still going through Sayid’s journals. He recorded everything. He refers to someone as “Mir.” That’s the person who seemed to be coordinating efforts for them on the ground.”

“Does Mir mean anything to you, Millie?” I ask.

“I guess it could be an abbreviation for a name: Mira, Miranda,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “And it means “peace” in Bosnian. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“But the agency thinks Petrovic is “Mir”?” Hawks asks.

“Yeah,” Millie says. “They were closing in on him when he disappeared, so they think he’s running.”

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