Unfaded Glory by Sara Arden Page B

that no one could get to them without a scalpel.
    She closed the book, folded her hands over it in her lap and fixed him with a direct stare.
    â€œWhat is it, Mr. Hawkins?”
    â€œIt’s not you.”
    A wealth of retorts rose on her tongue, but none of them were what she really wanted to say. So instead, she exhaled slowly and inhaled, using the action to gird herself. Breath could be like armor when one had nothing else. It made her hold her back straight; it squared her shoulders and forced her to lift her chin. “Of course it isn’t.”
    It was Byron who looked away first, glancing out the window. Then he unbuckled his belt. “I’m going to check with Gregson.”
    He headed toward the cockpit.
    Damara swallowed hard.
    She chided herself again for being upset.
    â€œThe diplomat’s name is Vladimir Kulokav,” Hawkins said when he sat back down. “He’s saying that you’re wanted for questioning in relation to his brother’s attempted murder.”
    â€œAttempted murder? Grisha’s not dead?” She closed her eyes. He wouldn’t forgive this. He and Abele would both make her pay if they caught her.
    â€œIt
was
only a .38. That would probably only make me angry, too.” He offered her a half smile.
    She’d had enough body language courses to know that this was his peace offering. Damara hated that she knew that. She wanted to be angry. If she was angry, she wouldn’t have to be hurt. And Damara knew better. She’d known he didn’t want any kind of commitment. He’d been wary of giving her what she wanted even for a night. He’d been tricked into helping her the first time and forced into helping her yet again. He had to be feeling betrayed.
    Damara exhaled heavily and tried to think of a neutral response.
    The plane reached optimum speed, and they were launched into the air.
    â€œThis is only my second time flying.”
    â€œWhen was your first?” He seemed glad to talk about something else.
    â€œWhen I was smuggled off Castallegna. But it was in the cargo hold—this is much nicer.”
    â€œThe cargo hold?” He growled again. “You could have been killed.”
    â€œIt was the only way to get off Castallegna. My brother’s men ‘inventory’ every ship leaving and entering port. So they get their cut.”
    â€œWhy didn’t they search the hold?”
    â€œIt was my brother’s plane. He had a shipment going to Tunis.” She bit her lip.
    â€œNo wonder he’s so pissed.” He gave her a genuine smile this time.
    â€œI’ve been planning this for a long time. It took almost a year to get everyone into place.” She looked out the window and down at the landscape below. “It’s amazing, you know.”
    â€œWhat is?”
    â€œFlying. That we launch ourselves into the air and simply trust that this unseen force will hold us aloft.”
    â€œRather than the unseen force that holds us down?” He raised a brow.
    â€œYes. Exactly.” She studied the patches of land, cityscape and countryside as they soared higher. “I think that people who rule often feel like this. Except they forget that they’re actually one of the ones down there, the tiny ants going on about their survival.”
    â€œI don’t know. I think men like Grisha know they’re ants.”
    â€œPerhaps.” She looked back at him. “Is it horrible that I’m sorry he’s
not
dead?” When Byron didn’t speak, she rushed to add, “He’s a bad man. He did bad things. Hurt people.”
    â€œNo, that’s not horrible.”
    â€œHis brother,” she began, unsure how to articulate what she wanted to say.
    â€œIs probably a bad man, too.”
    â€œNo. I mean, yes, but...Grisha had a brother. A mother. People who loved him. Cherished him.”
    â€œYou could say that about all the people I’ve killed,