Page 66 of Acting on Instinct
Ty moved through the apartment gathering the cell phone, computer, and anything else that he thought might be of interest to White. He stuffed them into his backpack.
Sitting back on his heels to catch his breath, Ty assessed the rug they’d been grappling on. It looked stiff and like too much trouble for the stairs.
Ty flipped up the edge and found an underpad that was malleable.
“Hey, man,” Ty said as he rolled Phossy into the padding, “it’s going to take me a minute to get you down to the van with my bruised ballsack. Don’t stop breathing on me, or White’s going to be pissed.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Kira
When the plane touched down, Kira felt like she could breathe again.
It had been just over twenty-four hours since she’d kissed Ty good-bye, and somehow it seemed a lifetime ago.
She pulled her backpack over her shoulder and, like everyone else on the tiny plane, she shuffled her way along the narrow aisle toward the front. The passengers were all going on about their lives. Kira had no idea what her life would look like going forward. For sure, it was going to be different than yesterday.
Christen had promised that there would be a good guy waiting for her.
And she was right, there stood Christen’s husband, Gator Aid Rochambeau, who was part gladiator, part good ol’ boy who spent his childhood floating on the Bayou. He was football and apple pie, and he loved his mamma. And that was all anyone really needed to know to trust that they were safe when he was around.
“Hi,” Kira said, feeling the tension melt from her muscles; it wasn’t a stranger in an Iniquus uniform. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry if I’m messing up your day.”
“Christen said you could use a friend.” He reached out his hand. “Let me take that for you.” They stepped forward out of the traffic. “Did you bring a bag other than this one here?”
She looked up to find the baggage sign. “I have one that I need to claim.”
They were silent as they followed the crowd, as they waited for the hum and clang of the conveyor belt, and as Kira pointed toward her bag with the bright lime puff ball that helped her spot her black bag amongst all the black bags.
Gator popped the handle and rolled it beside him, shortening his stride so Kira didn’t have to run.
“Lynx is waiting in the car.”
“Oh?” Before Kira could ask why Lynx hadn’t come in, Gator was pulling his phone from his pocket and coming to a stop.
“Hey, D-Day.” Gator glanced Kira’s way. “She just got here. We’re heading for the vehicle.” Gator paused and scanned. “Okay,” he said, “you’re on speaker.”
“Kira? It’s Christen.”
“Christen, yes, I was going to text you that—”
“Kira, listen for a second. I just got a call from Tanzania, a man named Moses.”
“Moses from Davidson’s Range?”
“Yes. You know him?” Christen asked.
“Moses is your father’s head security officer at his Tanzanian estate.”
“Alright, that would make sense. Moses said my father was taken by medical evacuation helicopter to Dodoma.”
“I’m so sorry.” Kira rounded toward Gator, who held the phone between them. “It must be serious.”
“He’s unconscious. When I searched online, Dodoma isn’t the closest hospital. Why would they take him that far away?”
“When I was coordinating the party a couple of years ago, I knew that the safety plan was to take William’s plane to a hospital if necessary. He was quite far out in the bush, close to the western border. Not all hospitals have the capacity to handle complex cases. Perhaps Moses spoke with William’s doctor, andthey sent him to the level of hospital that could support his needs. Dodoma is a Level One Trauma Center.”
“I’ve never been to his Tanzanian compound. I don’t know how things are situated. Why a helicopter and not his plane?” Christen asked.
