Surrender (The Command Series Book 3)

___

for my parents

for the trip of a lifetime

-1-

Elephants were on the runway, making landing impossible. This wasn’t a delay Olivia had encountered before. She and her co-pilot made the Bombardier buzz the landing strip, startling the impressive beasts on their way, and she maneuvered to make a second approach.

It wasn’t much of a runway, more a level strip of grassy land that the luxury game lodge groomed for their wealthiest clients so they had somewhere to set down their private jets. The only alternative was to land at Johannesburg and drive three hours to the middle of nowhere. There was no way the eldest son of the Abramo family was going to put up with that.

The plane bounced and shuddered down the runway, and she had to fight the yoke in her hands to bring the aircraft to a stop on the dirt-packed, uneven road. And then, she powered down the engines and her jet slowed to a crawl with South African soil beneath the wheels.

A few more flights and her trial contract as the Abramos’ pilot would be up. Usually she flew for the patriarch, an intimidating man whose scrutinizing gaze made her break out into an uneasy sweat. She didn’t let people scare her, but every hair stood on end in his presence.

The Abramos didn’t speak English. It was like that language was too ugly to come out of their refined mouths. The entire flight crew spoke no Italian, and this was by design. During her interview for the job, the translator explained the language barrier was so the Abramos could discuss sensitive business information in flight, but she wasn’t an idiot. She had strong suspicions of what type of business they were really in.

Olivia unlatched the cockpit door and collided face-first with a man’s hard chest. She shot a perturbed look up, like it was his fault she’d walked into him.

Nathan.

The unfamiliar American was enormous, at least six and a half feet tall, all muscle stretched across his lean frame. Dark, straight hair that was longer on top and swept to one side. His eyes were magnetic. As black as the gun she’d seen holstered under his arm on her plane. She didn’t like armed passengers in her cabin, but it wasn’t as if she could ask Giovanni’s private security guard to stow it in the hold.

She couldn’t ask him because Nathan scared the hell out of her.

Giovanni’s usual bodyguard and translator for this safari had come down with the stomach flu at the last minute and Nathan had taken his place. The moment Olivia had seen Nathan, something tightened in her chest and her breath went shallow. Not much older than her, maybe thirty-five. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept during either leg of the flight. Even tired, this man looked dangerous. That gun, those muscles, those furiously intense eyes. Predatory and beautiful.

He stared down at her now, his face expressionless, but there was something in his eyes. Curiosity? She’d always been good at reading people, which made her great at poker, but didn’t help her with much else.

“Sorry if the landing was a little rough,” she said.

He shrugged as if he could care less, but again, there was an edge to his expression, hinting at something . . . else. “It was fine.” His voice was deep and sent her stomach uncharacteristically twisting.

“We’ve both had rougher,” announced her co-pilot, who lingered in the cockpit and finished powering down the electronics. He was Scottish with gray hair and a lumpy body, but her co-pilot had a wide, friendly smile, and she had enjoyed his company the past month she’d been employed alongside him.

Yes, she’d certainly had rougher landings, but she kept her face blank. Nathan’s dark eyes narrowed, discerning. Like he saw right past it, right to the dark memory of that crash she tucked away. She ripped her gaze from his and turned her attention to the young British cabin attendant who was setting the stairway in place. He was nice enough, but the kind of guy who screamed when he saw a spider.

It was pleasant outside, probably sixty degrees in the shade and warmer under the sun. Autumn even though it was late April. Being south of the equator messed with her head.

On the tarmac, a collection of people waited, staff of the private game reserve. Nathan translated his boss’s demands to the mostly white staff, and while some men unloaded the luggage, the entire travel party of two, plus the flight crew, boarded a waiting van. It was a short trip down a hill and, when they rounded a curve, the resort came into view.

This place must cost a fortune.
Smaller, thatched-roofed cabins dotted the side of the hill, with the larger, main lodge perched in the middle. Everything faced the valley and the river that cut through it where a pod of hippos swam offshore. The van pulled up to the main entrance and the driver gestured for them to go inside.

“There are no fences here,” Phillip, the manager of the resort said. “We’ve seen leopards in our trees and had crocodiles in the swimming pool. If you need to leave your cabin after dark, for your safety, please call for an armed escort.” The man was maybe forty, and married to the head of staff, a blond woman who didn’t say anything, but her stiff posture and alert eyes gave the impression that she was the one really running the show.

“Do you want to do a game drive this afternoon?” Phillip asked.

Then, Italian rolled out of Nathan’s mouth, and Olivia struggled to keep hers from falling open as he translated for his boss. God, Italian was sexy when it passed through Nathan’s lips. Giovanni confirmed his answer with a nod.

“Anyone who cares to join us,” the owner continued, “we’ll head out after high tea, which is at two-thirty.”

High tea. The tired, uncultured American in her choked back a comment.

Olivia followed the staff member down a sandy path away from the lodge to an individual cabin. As the only woman on the flight crew, she had a cabin all to herself. The carved bed was draped in mosquito netting, more for decoration than any practical purpose since the building was climate-controlled. A pair of leather chairs sandwiched a couch that looked out the large French doors to the river valley beyond.

“Lock your doors,” the man who brought in the luggage said, “even when you’re in the room. The monkeys are naughty and smart. They make a big mess when they get inside.”

When he was gone, she stripped out of her black flight crew uniform and collapsed on the bed. After three good hours of sleep, she showered and dressed in muted colors. She’d read that white attracted malaria-carrying mosquitoes and that red made the rhinos aggressive. She wove her thick, straight, dark-brown hair into a braid that trailed down the back of her tan shirt.

The resort had set out quite a spread with slices of meats, cheeses, and an assortment of freshly baked bread. She fixed a cup of lemon tea and a sandwich, and stepped out onto the empty veranda beneath the thatched roof, setting her plate on the long, rectangular table that faced the river. The sandwich was good. Much better than the cardboard food she was accustomed to inflight. Maybe she could get used to high tea.

“Can I join you?” The deep, male voice startled her. She sucked in a breath at the sight of him.

“Nathan,” Olivia said, “how long have you been standing there?”

“I just came over.”

He hadn’t shaved and dark stubble covered his face. For some insane reason, she wanted to abrade her fingertips over it. Yeah, there was a great idea.

“Oh. I didn’t hear you.” He was tall, and broad, too. How had he appeared out of thin air like that?

“You didn’t rest long. Aren’t you tired?” He sat down across from her. There were a dozen other available seats, and yet he chose that one. The one that forced her to look at those shockingly intense and dark eyes.

“I’m one of those people who doesn’t need a lot of sleep.” She took a bite of her fruit salad, and when she set the fork down, it was askew. She nudged it so it was parallel with the butter knife. A simple gesture, but she saw him blink at it, and could tell he picked up on it instantly. Yeah, she liked everything in its place.

Was he the same? Was that gun in its place beneath the dark gray hoodie he was wearing? They lapsed into silence and she shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. How much did he know about their employer?

His gaze didn’t waver; it was like a challenge. But he was the one to sit down, so he could start the awkward conversations.

“How long have you lived overseas?”

“A few years now,” she said. “You?”

His jaw tightened a degree. “A while. Do you miss it?”

The question was unexpected. “America?”

He nodded.

Of course she did, but it was easier here. “Yeah, sometimes.” The quiet was heavy. “Where in the States are you from?”

He took a long sip on his coffee, and the lines around his eyes hinted he was desperate for the caffeine. “Kentucky.”

Really? Her face scrunched into a dubious look. “You don’t sound like you’re from the South.”

“Not everyone in Kentucky sounds like a hick.” He delivered it with no emotion, but it came out biting anyway. “And you?”

“I moved around a lot growing up, but I guess Michigan.”

The silence returned. She took a sip of her tea and focused back on the river, like she was no longer interested in the man staring at her, even though she was. A small herd of impalas grazed on the far shore, undisturbed by the grunting and snorting hippos that rumbled like motors in the water nearby.

“Can I ask how it is you work for the Abramos?”

She set her cup down and her heartbeat ticked up a notch. “You work for the Abramos, too.”

“I’m used to dealing with people like them.”

That sounded dark. “Meaning?”

He gave her a gaze that nearly leveled her. “You seem like a smart girl. You think the Abramo family comes by their money legally?”

No, she didn’t, but her annoyance overpowered that. “Maybe this
woman
”—she emphasized the distinction—“doesn’t care where the money comes from.”

Her gaze fixed on his and everything else around them fell away. Judging by the scowl twisting on his lips, what she’d said displeased him. As soon as the scowl was there, it was gone and his face returned to an empty, expressionless mask.

“Look,” she added, “the truth is I have to work for the Abramos, but my contract is almost up. I’ll be free of them in a few weeks.”

It was as if he was evaluating her statement for either truth, or for how much further he could push.

“Have you flown for all of them?” he asked. “Vitale?”

Giovanni’s father, the head of the Abramos. “Yes. He’s the one who hired me.”

His shoulders straightened. Was it interest he was trying to hide? “Why do you think he did that?”

Now she was fully annoyed. She wanted to snap something along the lines of:
Because I’m a damn good pilot
. “I’m pretty sure the family hates Americans. I think they employ as many of us as they can, so they can boss us around and feel powerful.”

Was that a half-smile teasing his lips? “Doesn’t that bother you?”

She took another sip of her tea and leisurely set it down. “People usually don’t tell me what to do when they’re in my plane and we’re twenty-thousand feet in the air. They’re welcome to try.”

It
was
a half-smile. And then it was gone like it had never existed.

“Does their superior attitude bother you?” she asked.

“Giovanni,” he said of their employer, “can tell I’m not someone you want to piss off.” Nathan gave her a dark, authoritative look and it was . . . odd. Like an act. She didn’t know him. They’d only met the previous day while she’d gone through preflight checks. But she could see through him easily.

She offered a knowing smile. “You work hard to give off that impression.”

He took a deep breath and his pupils dilated a half-degree.
Whoa
. He didn’t like that she’d called his bluff. He reacted like she’d knocked him back, and his eyes narrowed, furious. This bad-ass persona of his . . . was it
all
an act?

There were Italian words behind her from Giovanni. Nathan nodded, stood, and downed the rest of his coffee. But then Olivia rose as well.