Page 149 of Defenders of Jawhara

“Sure, but, dude, I’m catching the evening set, so I need to jet in like ten.”

“We’ll be right back,” Anna said. She wasn’t bad looking when she smiled.

Trent nodded and leaned back to rock in the chair again. Travis would be listening in on their discussion from the hidden mics.

A few minutes later they both returned. Meyers sat down next to Trent. “We have a proposition for you.”

Trent glanced from Meyers to Anna. “Like, dude, I don’t swing that way. Only threesome I ever go for is two girls.”

Meyers blinked and blushed. Anna forced out a laugh. “So funny.” Her smile dropped. “Would you be open to carrying a few things with you to Jawhara on your trip? Then you could connect to our people on the ground there and see what we’re working on in that part of the world.”

“Oh, well, sure. That sounds great. Never expected an in-person tour right off the bat.”

Meyers grinned. “Now…about that donation?”

Five minutes later, Trent left. He’d told them he didn’t do checks, but he’d given them his accountant’s number and told them the funds would be transferred as soon as the accountant had what he needed. They’d end up calling Slade’s accountant, and once they provided him with their banking information, Travis would be able to look into their financial records.

They were one step closer to stopping whoever was using the Guardians to hurt Sheikh Kamal and his family. Trent gave Chloe a wink on his way out and another peace sign. He also started to hope it wasn’t a mistake to leave her working with these jerks.

13

Chloe hadn’t sent for anything she’d left in storage, but Mrs. Smythson had boxed up a few things with a note, after Chloe had emailed her with her new address.

Thought you would want these.

The box included a photo of Chloe’s mother on horseback with her father standing beside her, her parent’s wedding album, her grandmother’s china tea set, and an apron Mrs. Smythson had made from Blue Bird flour sacks. Chloe teared up with a sudden longing for the ranch.

It’d be time to gather the young steers soon and ship them to market—not that they had any cows this year, but they’d always helped their neighbors as well as doing their own work. She ran her hand over the cracked binding of the photo album. She’d give it to her dad to keep—maybe it would make him happier.

She’d visited him twice this week and found him surly and gruff, but he was behaving, according to Melanie, and he had apologized to them. It was clear that he didn’t like his doctors—or rather, he didn’t like what they were telling him about how his days on horseback were done. The last conversation had left him feeling morose, and he worried that he was just here to die. She’d lit into him, telling him he was a selfish old man to be thinking that, and what about her, and wasn’t he interested in hanging around to maybe see some grandkids?

That made him sit up, and Chloe found herself talking about Trent. Her dad had sat in his wheelchair and listened, and finally said, “You best bring that young man by for a visit.”

He was right. She should. Trent should know what he was getting into with her family.

Hanging the photo up by her window, Chloe stood back to admire the image. They looked so happy. She glanced out and saw Trent opening the door to his place.

She headed outside and walked across the courtyard to his bungalow. She knocked on the screen door. When no one answered, she pulled it open and stuck her head inside. “Trent?”

She listened and heard water running. The shower? Grinning, she slipped inside and tiptoed down the hallway, following the sound. She could hear him singing off key, and she smiled. She hadn’t heard him sing before. She pushed the door open, noticing that it was already steamed up and the mirror was completely fogged over.

The shower was a large tile enclosure with clear glass walls and door. The steam had rendered the glass opaque, so she could only see bits and pieces of his body. Feeling like a voyeur, she watched him wash.

Slipping off her dress, she let it drop and pulled open the glass door. “I thought maybe you needed some help washing your back.”

He turned around, his eyes wide.

Something wasn’t right. He wasn’t looking at her the way he usually did. Then she noticed the scar on his forehead—the old scar.

Trent doesn’t have a scar.

Suddenly embarrassed and afraid, she backed away, slipping on the wet tile and almost falling. The man who was Trent but wasn’t, caught her. “You okay?”

He even smelled wrong. She pushed on his chest. “You’re not Trent!”

He grinned and looked so much like Trent she almost thought maybe she was losing her mind.

Letting go of her, he grabbed two towels, holding one out to her. “I’m Travis. His twin.”

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