The Elite (Romantic Suspense)

Jacob: Get the Princess on the Plane

The roof of the Roma-Urbe Airport appeared on the horizon, and Jacob thanked whatever the source of his good fortune was today. All he had to do was pass Daphne off and he could turn his attention back to the case. He slowed to show his ID at the gate that led to the flight line. "Jacob Marchant. Escorting a passenger to tail number 3117."

The guard looked at his ID and back at Jacob's face. "I need to call this in."

Jacob felt his heart rate increase. "I think there's been some mistake. We have diplomatic clearance from the Montrovian Consulate."

The guard looked at him again, his facial expression entirely unchanged. "I need to call this into my supervisor. If that is alright with you, sir."

Jacob forced himself to keep his face calm. "Whatever you need."

He waited until the guard was mostly out of earshot before he clicked his radio again. "They won't let me on the flight line until they clear something about my ID."

Marcus sighed. "I knew I should have worked on the clearances myself. Hang on."

Jacob turned his radio down until it was barely audible. And he just about had a heart attack when he felt someone grab his shoulder from behind.

"Why aren't they letting us through?"

"They needed to check something about my ID in the system."

Daphne huffed out a breath. "Even with the clearances?"

Jacob shot her a look. "What do you know about clearances?"

She rolled her eyes. "I've been getting on private planes my entire life. I know what's normal and what isn't." She smiled to herself, looking a bit too pleased. "I can also hear everything you say into your radio, you know."

Jacob wished he could disappear. He was so used to working alone or with one of the other guys on his team that he had totally forgotten she could hear him. He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the security guard reappearing at his window. "It appears your story is correct," the security guard said, a slight sneer evident in his words even though his face retained that strange impassive quality. "You may proceed."

"Thank you so much for your help," Jacob said, pitching his own voice well into "way too friendly" territory.

The security guard seemed to read the annoyance loud and clear. "Have a nice day, sir."

A low whistle came from the back seat. "Were you going for 'nicest jerk in the room,' there? Because if so, you're vastly overestimating your own subtlety."

"I was going for the 'Let's get the princess out of a country that's about to go into lockdown after a bombing on camera during a major award show without making anyone too angry or suspicious' tactic. Seems like it worked just fine."

Daphne exhaled so hard that Jacob felt the hair on his neck ruffle. "You would have no future as a diplomat."

Jacob didn't know whether it was meant as an insult or not. "Good thing my job mostly requires me to remain out of sight. And when I do have to talk to other people, it's usually about something very specific and we're encouraged to use as few words as possible."

Daphne leaned forward in another rustle of fabric. "You never did tell me who you work for."

"That was a very intentional choice on my part." He steered the car to stop next to a nondescript —albeit large— private jet. "Your chariot awaits, Your Highness." He clicked his radio. "Gemini has landed."

Marcus clicked back on his radio. "The flight crew has the plane ready to go. Schmidt and Gill are on board. They should be out to escort you onto the plane momentarily."

"Schmidt and Gill aren't PPOs." They could be a part of a protection unit, but they couldn't have a member of the immediate royal family with them alone.

Marcus had the slightest hint of mischief in his tone when he responded. "Oh, aren't they? That must have slipped my mind."

Jacob closed his eyes hard, willing his tone to remain calm. He just wanted to go back to monitoring feeds. "You owe me."

"Put it on my tab." Marcus clicked off the radio frequency.

Jacob reached for the handgun in his holster, brain shifting back into work mode. He just had to get her on the plane and get the wheels off the ground. He turned in his seat. "Slight change of plans."

Daphne glanced up at him, hands folded in her lap like a model student. "Let me guess. You're coming with me?"

"It would seem so. Make sure you keep your head down." He exited the car, carefully looking for any signs they had been followed onto the tarmac. He opened the door and was relieved when Daphne sprang from the car and easily kept pace with his brisk trot up the steps and onto the plane. Jacob did his best not to notice the ripped fabric that trailed behind her. His job was to save her life, not her clothing, but he hated ruining a beautiful dress.

Schmidt met them at the top of the stairs. "Plane is all ready to go if you are." He glanced behind them, apparently looking for someone else. "Where's Berlin?"

"Back at the theatre. He is making himself very useful, apparently."

They exchanged a look.

Schmidt nodded after a long moment. "I'll let the captain know that we're clear for wheels up." He padded back toward the front of the plane.

Jacob walked back to the galley, praying someone had thought to make a pot of coffee. He took a white coffee mug from one of the cabinets and was mid-way through filling it when Daphne walked out of the bedroom clad in jeans and a sweatshirt that was three sizes too large. The change in appearance was jarring. In the six years he'd been a part of protecting her family, he'd never given Daphne much thought. She'd spent the bulk of that time away at university with Morgan as her primary PPO. Now it was impossible to ignore how beautiful she was. Her hair was darker than it seemed in pictures, the same mahogany as her father's. But she had her mother's blue eyes. Daphne glanced up at him, obviously aware of his gaze. Jacob cleared his throat and looked away.

Daphne took a few steps closer to him and grabbed another mug from the cabinet. "Don't spill."

He glanced down and narrowly avoided pouring the scalding liquid on his hand. "Thanks." He ducked his head so she wouldn't see how embarrassed he was to be caught. "We should be on our way momentarily."

She nodded. "I know this isn't exactly how you planned to spend your evening. I just wanted to say thank you."

"Just doing my job, ma'am." He wanted to kick himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Of course, it was his job, but that didn't mean that he couldn't be gracious. He tried to cover his embarrassment with a long swig of coffee.

If she was offended, she had the grace not to show it. They both made their way to the leather seats that surrounded a large wooden table.

Jacob was mindlessly scrolling a list of headlines about the bombing, listening to the engines grow louder, when he felt someone watching him. He glanced up and met Daphne's eyes, a smirk of mirth twisting her expression. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question. It seemed safer than risking sounding like a John Wayne movie again.

"I'll forgive you for trying to get out of flying me home," she said carefully. "But I feel like I should say that I am not bad company. I also make significantly better coffee than you do."

Jacob grimaced, wondering if she would believe that he hadn't made this pot. Instead, he just leveled his most measured glare over the rim of his coffee mug. "Considering I've been busy trying to save your life for the entirety of the time we've spent together so far, it seems a bit early to make any judgements about what kind of company you might be."

"When would be an appropriate time to make a judgment?" She cocked an eyebrow at him in an annoyingly accurate replica of his expression.

Jacob felt his scowl deepen as the plane began to speed down the runway. "Now."