Defending Zara (Mountain Mercenaries #6)(41)

The entire team had had a conversation the day before they’d planned to leave, brainstorming ways to sneak her out. It had been Zara herself who’d suggested hiding in a suitcase. Meat had vetoed the idea straight out, but the others had seemed to consider it.

In the end, it had been her choice—take a chance on the soldiers questioning who she was, where she came from, and why she was with the Mountain Mercenaries, or hide in a suitcase until they were in the van and on their way to the airport.

It had been an easy decision.

Zara had never been so glad for her small stature as she was when she’d been zipped into the rolling suitcase Ball had purchased. She’d supposed it wasn’t any more claustrophobic than what Meat must have experienced in the back of the trailer she’d used to transport him to and from the barrio. It hadn’t been comfortable, but it hadn’t been entirely uncomfortable either.

She’d heard Meat and the others saying goodbye to a few of the soldiers and couldn’t help but be thrilled she was getting one over on them.

Gray had placed the suitcase on top of their other bags in the small space in the back of the van, and the second they were safely away from their escorts—who’d been so glad to see them go they hadn’t bothered to follow them to the airport—Gray and Ro had lifted the suitcase over the back of the third seat, opened it, and helped her out.

After that, getting through security and customs had been a piece of cake with her brand-new passport.

They’d flown first class to Dallas–Fort Worth, and even though she’d been nervous to go through customs in America, no one took a second glance at her. It was all somewhat surreal. She was used to being scrutinized carefully, mostly by shop owners who were afraid she was up to no good, so to be totally ignored was a novel feeling. One she liked.

But as they taxied toward the small Colorado Springs airport at the end of their journey, Meat looked out the window and swore.

“What?” Zara asked.

Instead of answering, he reached between the seats and poked Ball on the shoulder and pointed out the window.

“Meat, what’s wrong?” Zara asked again.

He looked at her, and she didn’t like the concern she saw in his eyes. “We thought we’d have a little more time before we’d have to deal with this,” he told her.

“With what?”

“Look,” he said, pointing to the window.

Zara turned and looked, and at first she had no idea what he wanted her to see. There was a large mountain peak that still had a bit of snow at the top that was absolutely breathtaking. She’d gotten so used to the barrios and slums of Lima that the sight of the beautiful mountains in the background let her know without a doubt that she was truly out of Peru once and for all.

Then she let her gaze wander lower . . . and saw what looked like dozens of trucks and cars, most emblazoned with numbers and letters, lined up along the road leading to the building they were taxiing toward.

She turned to look back at Meat and shrugged.

“It’s the news media, Zar. I have no idea how they got word that you’d be here today, but they have.”

Her eyes widened. They’d talked a lot about the media, and she wasn’t sure she could deal with them right now. She wasn’t ready.

She’d put on the nicest outfit Arrow had brought her, khaki pants with a short-sleeve dark-purple blouse. She was wearing a bra, which oddly felt more constricting than the band she’d been using to flatten her chest for years. She wasn’t used to looking down and seeing her boobs, but she didn’t have a reason to hide her gender anymore. It was scary, but she was very slowly getting used to it.

She still felt frumpy and dirty after traveling all day, though. Which was ironic, because she’d gone months without a shower when she’d been in the barrio, and just that morning, she’d taken another forty-five-minute shower and soaped herself clean at least four times. So she was in no way dirty like she’d been for fifteen years, but thinking about facing cameras and reporters made her cringe.

“We won’t be talking to them today,” Gray said from the seat behind her and Meat.

Zara had been so lost in her thoughts she jumped, and then turned to look at him. She felt Meat put his hand on her knee to help steady her and was surprised at how much his touch made her feel better.

“We need the proof of your DNA before you can think of making any kind of statement. The last thing you need to deal with is skepticism from the press. The FBI agreed to come out to Meat’s house to interview you. They’ll be waiting there for us. As we talked about, they’ll take a swab inside your mouth to get your DNA, and they should have the results in about a day or two. You’ll tell them your story, and that will be that. Okay?”

Zara nodded. “But what about them?” she asked, gesturing to the window.

“I should be surprised that somehow they found out about your return, but I’m not,” Gray said. “We’ll stay in the plane and be the last to leave. Black is on the phone with Rex, and he’s already arranged for a car to pick us up. We’ll walk by the reporters and just refuse to make a statement. It’ll be fine.”

“Why wouldn’t he make arrangements for us to bug out a back door so she didn’t have to face them at all?” Meat asked grumpily.

“We talked about this,” Gray reminded his friend. “The more secretive we are about her return, the crazier they’ll get. Zara needs to be seen. She doesn’t need to smile and wave or anything, but simply seeing her won’t actually be a bad thing. We’ll just not say anything until we have proof in hand that she’s the Layne heiress.”