Mission: Out of Control by Susan May Warren Page A

recently, he thought he did.
    He probably stayed up too late going over the different venues, the staff at the events. Threat assessment with a short deadline seemed sketchy at best, and he hated it.
    Someone should have been watching Vonya’s back long before this. He’d found no less than three websites dedicated to “Vonwatch,” and some of the threads on her fan forums felt downright creepy. Still, even he had to admit that her so-called stalker from last year seemed more of a starstruck fan than a guy out to hurt her. And as for General Mubar’s threats…well, he’d threatened half the congress, not to mention the U.S. media and the United Nations.
    A small part of Brody might agree he had defaulted to overachiever mode. Still, he was paid to stay on her like glue, whether she needed it or not.
    The D.C. sky bled gray as he drove to Reagan National Airport. He dropped his rental car off, then found his flight. Thankfully, he’d booked a window seat. He popped in his earbuds, letting the cool electric blues find him. Stevie Ray Vaughan, God rest his soul, knew how to calm his nerves.
    Classical. He smiled at the answer he’d given Veronica at the table. She wasn’t the only one with secrets. Only difference—he had every intention of unearthing every last one of hers.
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    Brody’s plane touched down at LaGuardia and he grabbed a coffee, then headed toward the VIP lounge of their KLM carrier. He’d wanted a charter flight, but Vonya had nixed that. At least he’d managed to secure for them first-class seats.
    Okay, he’d secured first class for him and Vonya and Tommy D. The road manager, the band and Leah would fly in business class.
    He entered the lounge and spotted a few familiar faces among the travelers. Tommy D raised a Bloody Mary to him, nodding.
    Leah sat in a corner, earbuds in, eyes closed.
    Where was Ronyika? A businessman tapped out something on his computer. Another was concentrating on his iPhone. A third stood at the bar, ordering up something bracing for the flight.
    A woman with a plaid brimmed hat and overlong brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail, wearing yoga pants and pink Uggs, read a Jane Austen book, a pair of black glasses low on her nose.
    Ah, there she was. Staring at the tarmac, with blond hair piled up like a long-ago starlet, a red leather jacket over her shoulders, wearing go-go boots and a leather skirt. He dropped his bag into a chair and slid up to her.
    â€œNice disguise. But you can’t fool me.”
    â€œOh, honey, this is the real thing.”
    The gravelly voice of a lifelong smoker grumbled out the words as the woman grinned at him. Definitely too old for that short skirt. He didn’t want to guess further.She looked past him, turning as the man from the bar offered her something orange and frothy.
    Okay, his instincts simply weren’t firing anymore. He skulked back to his bag, scanning the room.
    An adolescent boy with mocha skin, wearing a pair of skater shoes, jeans and a orange T-shirt, fought with his Nintendo. Another woman, her long legs crossed, flipped a newspaper.
    â€œWhere is she?” He looked at Leah, raising an eyebrow. She popped out her earbuds.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhere’s—?” This was why he needed his backup. It wasn’t like he could announce her name here in the middle of the airport, right?
    â€œRonie?” Leah said.
    â€œI’m right here.”
    He turned. The brunette put down her book and grinned up at him. “Gotcha.”
    Oh, weren’t they going to have fun?
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    She was so going to win their security war. She waited until Brody buckled in next to her, then slipped out past him to the bathroom. They were closing the doors but she had time for a quick text.
    I’ll be there.
    At this rate, Kafara was halfway home.
    She deleted her sent message, then adjusted the wig—something Savannah had worn near the end—and smiled