His Personal Mission Page 10

  Don’t. Maybe that’s why I finally did it.

  Their exchange came back to her with a jolt. Could that be even a little true, that her chiding—okay, face it, nagging—had prodded him to change?

  The questions came at her like a barrage in his war game. She stared down at the printouts she’d brought with her, not seeing the words on the page, but instead lost in the memories of two years ago, wondering, questioning herself in a way she’d not done in a long time.

  She’d always thought of herself as confident, certain, sure of her path and the rightness of it. And she still was, when it came to her work. But at the moment, she wasn’t nearly so sure she’d trod the right path in her personal life.

  You still don’t do anything just for fun?

  Ryan’s question gnawed at her harder than her own.

  Of course she had fun, she told herself. She had friends, she went out, went to movies, the occasional party. Why, she’d had a great time at the birthday party Zach had thrown for Reeve, and a better time at their wedding, and even Frank Bedford and his wife threw a mean barbecue, and of course there were often parties given by grateful families….

  Her thoughts trailed away as another realization struck. She concentrated, but finally gave up the effort with a grimace. Other than the occasional movie or lunch with a girlfriend, almost all of her social outings were somehow work-related.

  He was right. Apparently she never did anything just for fun, even though she had fun doing many things. It was a fine line, true, but she couldn’t deny he had a point.

  “Gotcha,” Ryan muttered at his screen.

  She dropped the file of papers onto the floor and leaned over to look. “You found him?”

  “Not him, exactly. Not yet. But the account used to set up his page, and the ISP he uses, are both based in Washington.”

  “So near Seattle’s probably the truth.”

  “Looks like it.”

  “So if we take that list of the places he mentioned going to, we might be able to narrow down a search area.”

  “But some of them are local names for places. I don’t think you’ll find just ‘the creek’ on a map anywhere.”

  She nodded. “We’ll have to find a local, then.”

  He looked thoughtful, then glanced at his watch. That was an addition, she thought suddenly; he’d not worn one when they’d been together, but had relied on his cell phone if he needed to know what time it was. She wondered why the change, but that curiosity vanished when he went for the cell phone next and dialed quickly.

  “Hi, Tam,” he said when the call was answered. “Ryan Barton, from R&D.” There was a pause while the other person responded. “Yeah, still looking for her. Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  Sasha gathered from that that the people at Redstone knew about his search. She supposed he’d had to tell them to explain his absence.

  “We have a facility up near Seattle, right?”

  He waited, listening intently before speaking again.

  “I need somebody who’s been there a while. Long enough to know the local hot spots, and names for them. Places where maybe kids would hang, you know, teenagers.”

  Another pause as he listened, longer this time, and then, “Yeah, that’d be great.”

  With a couple of quick keystrokes he opened up what appeared to be a notepad of some kind on his screen, designed to look like, of all things, a sticky note. He typed in the number the person was obviously giving him, then added a name. Rand Singleton.

  “Yeah, we think she went up there. We’re trying to narrow it down to exactly where. Then I’ll be heading up there.”

  She’d wondered about that, if he’d want to go himself. If it were her, wild buffalo couldn’t keep her from it, but she hadn’t been certain about Ryan.

  “Okay. I appreciate it.”

  He thanked the person on the other end and flipped his phone closed.

  “A local?” she asked, indicating the note.

  “Better,” he said. “A local who’s also Redstone Security.”

  “So this Rand guy will help?”

  “I’m Redstone, he’s Redstone. He’ll help. Tam is going to call him, let him know what’s going on.”

  “Tam?”

  “Tamara Hunter. She’s new. Well, not to Redstone, but to this job. Sort of a facilitator. Josh wanted somebody dedicated to just handling employee situations. Said he didn’t want to take the chance that somebody who needed help didn’t get it because they were hesitant to approach him.”

  Sasha shook her head in wonder. “I swear, if I didn’t work for Westin and love what I do…”

  “Yeah,” Ryan said fervently. “Anyway, she’ll let him know I’ll be calling him when I get there.”

  “We.”

  “What?”

  “We’ll be calling when we get there.”

  He blinked. “I didn’t expect you to go that far.”

  “I’ve gone further on a case.”

  “But this isn’t a case for you, not really. Can you just leave?”

  She picked up the folder she’d set on the floor. “Zach may have left Redstone to run the foundation, but he brought the philosophy with him. In fact, I’m willing to bet he’ll offer any help he can.”

  Then she made her own call, to Zach’s office at Westin.

  “Sasha, there you are. We were wondering. Everything okay?”

  “I’m with Ryan Barton,” she said.

  The pause was barely a split second before Zach said, “His sister?”

  Reeve, Sasha guessed. Redstone apparently also had a grapevine that was unmatched. “Yes.”

  “Any progress?”

  “Some. We think she went to Seattle to meet up with some guy she met online.”

  “Legit?”

  “Don’t know yet.”

  “So you’re heading up there?”

  She smiled at the assumption that proved her right; you could take the man out of Redstone, but not Redstone out of the man.

  “Yes. As soon as we can organize it, I suspect.”

  “Hang on a sec.” She heard him relaying what she’d told him to someone else in the room. “Reeve wants to know if you want her to go with you.”

  Sasha’s smile widened. When you worked with people like this, maybe there was good reason to socialize mostly with them.

  “Tell her thank you, but because we’ve only got some vague locations to go on, we need a local. Ryan’s already got the name of somebody from Redstone up there. Security as well, in fact.”

  He relayed that information, too, and then there was a moment of rustling before Sasha heard Reeve’s voice.

  “Who?” she asked.

  Sasha glanced at the name Ryan had typed. “Rand Singleton.”

  “Good,” Reeve said. “He’s a good man, one of the best. And his wife, Kate, grew up up there. Definitely a local.”

  “Good,” Sasha echoed, then added, “If he’s anything like you, I’m sure he is the best.”

  Reeve laughed. Sasha was glad to hear it; Reeve and Zach had gone through unimaginable hell, and it was good to hear her laugh so easily.

  “What he is,” Reeve said, “is pretty. Very, very pretty.”

  Sasha laughed in turn. “I can’t wait.”

  “But then, Ryan is very, very cute.”

  Sasha’s laugh faded, even though Reeve’s tone was just as teasing. “Yes. Yes, he is. Still.”

  She was just hanging up, already working on shoving aside silly, unwanted emotions, when Ryan’s cell rang. She waited while he answered, saw his expression change as he first listened, then uttered a fervent thank-you.

  When he again closed his phone, she lifted a brow at him.

  “We’re going to Seattle.”

  “Well, yes.”

  “I mean, now. As soon as we can get to the county airport.” He was on his feet then, going over to a secondary desk on the opposite wall.

  “We have a flight already?” she asked, puzzled.

  “Sort of.
” He looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. “On Redstone Air, I guess. There’ll be a Hawk—not sure which one—ready and waiting in forty-five minutes.”

  She blinked. “We’re flying on a Redstone jet?”

  “We are.”

  He looked at the desk in front of him, and she realized he was contemplating the three laptops that sat there.

  “Better take the best,” he said, almost to himself. “Might have to do some more poking.”

  A little taken aback at how fast this was suddenly happening, Sasha focused on his words.

  “Your ‘best’ laptop?”

  He turned on her then, sounding defensive. “Would you think it was funny if a carpenter wanted his best hammer? Or a painter his best brushes?”

  “Of course not,” she said.

  “You said they’re tools. Well, these are mine, just as much as that hammer or brush is someone else’s.”

  “I didn’t mean it as a dig, Ryan,” she said. “It’s just…most people only have one. But it is your work, and I should have thought about that before I spoke.”

  He seemed startled, and she wondered just how much heat he’d taken over the years. He so didn’t look like the stereotype of a computer geek, with his short, spiked hair, and his athletic build, but she supposed to some people nothing mattered beyond his fascination with the machines. That automatically put him in the geek category, with all its sometimes unflattering parameters.

  “Do you suppose some people get weird about computer experts because they resent needing them?” she wondered aloud. “Or because the whole technology scares them?”

  Ryan’s mouth quirked slightly. “Yes,” he answered.

  She laughed, and so did he, so she guessed he wasn’t holding her thoughtless remark against her.

  While he packed up the laptop and some other gear, then threw some items in a duffel bag, she made a call to her parents to let them know she’d be out of town on a case. She got their answering machine, which was a relief; her mother still got nervous. Her work wasn’t particularly dangerous, as a rule, since she did mostly the brain work, as Bedford called it, but her mother still worried.

  She called Zach again, only to find they already knew she’d be leaving.

  “Reeve was on the phone to Redstone the minute you hung up,” he told her, “to be sure you had everything you need.”

  “Thank her,” she said.

  “I will. You need any reinforcements? Something just came in, but we can spare a body if you need someone.”

  “I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Reeve says this guy Singleton’s one of the best. She already called him personally, and he’ll be waiting for you when you land.”

  “Wow. Redstone moves fast.”

  “Yes. Nobody pulls together for one of their own like they do.”

  By the time she ended the call, Ryan was ready to go. Men, she thought wryly. All they had to do was toss in some clothes, a razor, a toothbrush, and in Ryan’s case probably not even a comb, and they were done.

  Rather than juggle two cars, they took his, shifting them around so hers could stay in his garage. His was technically registered to Redstone, and it seemed better to have it sitting at the Redstone hangar at the airport. She wondered at the last glance he gave her little coupe as the door came down, but then they were in his blue Cruiser and on their way.

  “Same place?” he asked.

  She nodded, looking at the condo complex and thinking how far he’d come in that way, while she still languished in her rented apartment.

  She had wondered if he even remembered where she lived, but when he made the first few turns without any direction from her it was clear he did. She tried not to read anything into that. He had a good memory, after all.

  And then they were pulling up in front of her building. “I’ll only be a few minutes. Do you want to come in?”

  He seemed to hesitate. She wasn’t surprised; she’d actually prefer it if he didn’t. After all, her living room was the place where the physical attraction between them had nearly exploded, where they’d wound up half-naked on her sofa, and stopped only when Sasha had realized she was about to take an irrevocable step with a man she barely knew.

  The memory was still vivid in her mind. It had taken her weeks not to think about it every time she walked through the room. She’d almost moved because of it. Especially when she realized she’d known on some level, even then, that it wasn’t really going to work between them.

  “I’ll wait here,” he said at last, and she hoped he didn’t notice her relieved breath.

  She’d always been comfortable in her apartment; it was spacious enough, with a large bedroom and a den that served as an office and could be converted to a guest room with the futon in the corner. But now, after the beautiful airiness and space of his condo, it seemed a bit dark and tired.

  “So you spend all that time ragging on him about the future,” she muttered to herself as she grabbed a small, rolling suitcase and started putting things into it, “and never really handle your own. Nice, Tereschenko, real nice.”

  But she would fix that, she vowed. As soon as they found Trish, she would start planning her own future.

  She went for the basics in what she put in the bag. She wasn’t sure what the weather up north would be this time of year, except likely cooler than here, so she went with layers built on basic black, with splashes of her favorite yellow in a sweater and a couple of blouses. And thought again of the touches of yellow in Ryan’s home.

  She headed for the bathroom and grabbed the things she used every day, figuring she could pick up anything she’d forgotten; it wasn’t like they were heading into the wilds of Alaska. She took a moment to dig out a folding, travel hair dryer she’d bought and only used a couple of times; it went into one corner of the toiletries bag, which then went into the spot she’d left in the suitcase.

  When she was done, she glanced at her watch: twelve minutes. Not bad. She hurried back outside. When Ryan saw her coming he got out and opened the back door of the Cruiser, and she tossed her bag in.

  “Mail,” she said suddenly, when they were rolling again.

  “If it looks like we’ll be there a while, we can put in a hold online,” he said.

  “Oh.” She had thought she’d just call, hadn’t even realized you could do that now. To each their own tools, she thought.

  She’d never been to this back area of the busy county airport before, she thought as Ryan pulled up to a security gate a couple of blocks away from the entrance to the main terminal. He and the guard exchanged a few words before they were passed through, and Ryan turned left to drive along several rows of private hangars. They drove past a gap, a larger space between buildings, then slowed at a larger, longer building that stood alone at the end of the row, near the end of the airfield.

  Unlike the other hangars, many of which had signs indicating their purpose or company name, this one was unmarked, the only clue to its ownership the red and slate-gray paint job.

  Sasha heard the sound of a jet engine suddenly firing up. She looked, and saw a plane sitting near the end of the hangar. The matching color scheme told her this was a Redstone jet, and she guessed it was firing up for them. She felt an odd little thrill, and wondered at herself; planes were simply a method to get somewhere fast, she’d never been particularly fascinated by them. But this little jet was lovely, sleek and graceful. If even she, who didn’t much care, could react like this….

  I should have known, she thought. You don’t build an empire like Redstone if you don’t start with something special.

  A young man wearing gray coveralls with a logo that looked like that very plane waved them into a parking area outside the office.

  “Mr. Barton?”

  Ryan nodded. The man in the coveralls was really little more than a boy, Sasha realized. He looked maybe nineteen at the most.

  “I’m Tim. If you want to leave the key, I’ll move the car inside when I close up,�
�� he said.

  “Thanks,” Ryan said, sliding the Cruiser’s key off the ring and handing it over.

  “We already gassed her up, and the gate called when you came through so she’s fired up. You should be ready for takeoff shortly.” An oddly gleeful grin crossed the young man’s face. “Your pilot’s raring to go, even though he just got back from an angel flight.”

  Sasha wondered what the amusement was about as they walked toward the plane. And what an angel flight was. Then she lost the thought as they went up the lowered steps into the little jet. She was surprised at how excited she was. Once inside, she barely had time to notice that the beauty of the interior matched the exterior before she heard Ryan mutter a heartfelt “Damn.”

  She turned, startled. Saw where he was looking, toward the cockpit, where a tall, lean man dressed casually in jeans frayed at the hems, a denim shirt and battered cowboy boots, was coming out.

  “Didn’t expect you,” Ryan said, clearly stunned.

  “But you’re stuck with me,” the man drawled lazily.

  It hit her then. The boy’s grin, Ryan’s shock, the gray eyes and the drawl….

  Their pilot was Josh Redstone himself.

  Chapter 12

  Once she got over the shock, Sasha was fascinated. She’d never met a bazillionaire before. Especially one who dressed like a cowboy just off the ranch. Which, she recalled from an article she’d read, he’d once been.

  “I can’t believe you’re flying us yourself,” she said.

  “Happens I was the one free at the moment. And it gives me a chance to fly, which I never pass up.”

  Sasha doubted the head of one of the world’s biggest organizations was ever truly “free,” but it fit with what she’d heard of him, from Ryan, Zach and Reeve especially.

  “It’s still amazing.”

  He shook his head. “Ryan is Redstone. One of us needs help, we’re all on call.”

  And that, Sasha thought, summed up what Reeve said was the Redstone philosophy quite neatly.

  “I’ve never been on a plane like this before. It’s beautiful, inside and out. And I generally don’t even notice them,” she admitted, then wished she hadn’t; she didn’t want to offend the man.