Page 11 of Iron Heart

I catch a glimpse of her, clad in a skirt and a crop top.Her midriff, a tantalizing display of creamy skin, is exposed.But I ensure that my gaze stays locked with hers.Her makeup has been wiped clean, and her tousled hair suggests she’s taken a nap.

“It’s a desert,” I respond, keeping the explanation brief, not keen to delve into the details.

“A desert?”she echoes just as the attendant sets her drink in front of her.

“Thank you,” I address the attendant, who responds with a flirtatious smile.I think Miss Slater notices, but she remains silent.

“And what else?”Miss Slater questions, sipping her drink through the straw, her eyes fixed on me.

“It’s the terrain of Somalia.”

“Is that where you earned your medals?”she asks, and I’m surprised she’s dug into my background.“I like to know who’s working so closely with me, Kingsley.”

“I see.”

“Although all I know is that you earned three medals for… a quick Google search of ‘Kingsley Williams’ says that you were the sole survivor of your team.So what’s the story there?”

My lips press into a thin line.Is there no escape from my past?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, attempting to maintain a professional distance.

“We may as well get to know each other.We have another thirteen hours on this plane stuck together.”

She has a point.Still, I don’t like it.I don’t like sharing.I don’t like experiencing these emotions.

“Two years ago, I led a team of four Special Forces men.We were on a mission to rescue an invaded village from militia when it all went wrong.”

She leans back in her chair, a genuine interest lighting her features.“I’m sorry,” she offers, and her sincerity catches me off guard.“What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter.My team was killed, and I was the only survivor.Apparently, that deserves a medal,” I say, staring out the window in disbelief.“Fucking ridiculous,” I mutter under my breath.

The attendant reappears, breaking the raw moment of genuine conversation between us.“We are starting our descent into Changi.Can you please fasten your seat belts?”

I nod at her and return my gaze to Miss Slater, who is looking at me pensively.For once, I can’t decipher her body language.

“You’ve caught someone’s eye,” she states, breaking the silence with a sly smile, clearly indicating the attendant.

As the plane begins its descent, I cock an inquisitive eyebrow.“Not a concern,” I respond, nonchalantly brushing off her remark.“We’ll remain on board while they refuel, then we’re airborne again at one p.m.”

“All right,” she replies, her thoughtful gaze shifting to the window.

I’ve reviewed security at the hotel while she’s been glued to her laptop, and an hour later, we’re back in the sky.Victoria is preoccupied with her computer, and only when we’re soaring above the clouds again does she start to huff and puff in frustration.

“Clearly, something is bothering you, Miss Slater.What’s the issue?”I ask, her restlessness preventing my attempt at a nap.

“Seriously?What the hell?”she shouts.My eyes snap open.Sleep now a lost cause.

“What’s the matter?”I probe, sitting upright.

“Those idiots,” she seethes, completely ignoring me.

“For goodness sake, are you going to share?”I ask impatiently.

She glares up from her screen, her eyes ablaze.“Don’t you dare start,” she warns, then thrusts her laptop in my direction.

The headline blinds me.“Viki Slate Like a Deer in Headlights.” I swiftly skim the article, which portrays her as an unsuspecting trauma victim.From the question the man in the audience asked, I can see why she’s irritated, but it could have been worse.

She crosses her arms defensively.“Mariel,” she summons the flight attendant.“I’ll have a double scotch,” she orders, her hand trembling slightly, pushing it into her arm, trying to conceal it.

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