and the two hugged.
Annabelle watched, mystified. She was once more distracted from her fear of the inevitable flight and was instead focused on this new man. Samuel Price.
She’d heard Jack talk of him before. In passing. An occasional “Sam” here and there would pop in and out of his conversations. Late one night, he’d even told her all about him and given her a brief account on their history together. But now here he was – Jack’s mentor – the man who had taken Jack under his wing twenty-five years ago and made him into the assassin he was today.
She stood from her seat and climbed out of the van to join the others, all the while watching the stranger.
If Annabelle had had any previous inkling of what the man looked like, she would have been struck long ago with how fitting the name “Samuel” was for him. With his tall frame, silver hair, hard and handsome features and full mustache, he looked like Sam Elliott. Almost exactly.
And his accent had been southern. Maybe even Texas. What are the odds of that? Did everyone from Texas look the same?
“Sam, thank you for this.”
“Forget it,” Sam answered as they separated. “Now give me the run-down.”
Jack turned to Dylan and fixed him with a hard gaze.
“This the kid?” Sam asked, obviously recognizing Jack’s expression for what it was.
Jack nodded and then looked away from Dylan, who seemed rather bewildered by the strange exchange.
“This is my daughter, Clara.” Jack gestured to his daughter, who nodded once in greeting.
Sam did the same, his smile steady.
“Cassie Reid,” Jack nodded toward Cassie.
“You remember Beatrice,” Jack said, gesturing toward his ex-wife. Sam’s smile broadened and he came forward to take Beatrice’s hand, kissing the back of it as if in a scene straight out of a period movie. “You bet your nuts I do,” he said softly, grinning ear to ear.
Beatrice returned the smile, but shook her head reprimandingly. “You ‘aven’t changed a whit, Mr. Price.”
Annabelle noticed that she wasn’t all that quick to withdraw her hand.
“Why thank you, darlin’. I ‘preciate that.”
“And this is Annabelle Drake.”
Samuel straightened and turned to face Annabelle. His gaze was steady, his gray eyes pinning her to the spot with some strange kind of intensity.
“My, my,” he said as he came forward. Annabelle noticed that Jack moved with him. “The lovely Annabelle. It is a pleasure, Miss Drake.” He bowed slightly, as a knight would to a lady, and winked.
“Okay, Jack, load ‘em up.” Sam turned then, all business again, and issued the order to his friend.
Jack nodded. “Everyone to the plane.”
No one had to be told twice. Except Annabelle. Who didn’t move a muscle.
Jack was un-phased by this. He’d fully expected it. Without another word on the matter, he strode toward her and then bent and, in one clean, swift movement, picked her up into his arms.
“What-”
“We have to go, Bella.”
“Jack, put me down!”
“Not bloody likely.”
From where he stood beside the plane, making what Annabelle assumed were pre-flight checks on plane parts that she knew nothing about, Sam watched Jack carry Annabelle toward the plane. He shook his head. Annabelle didn’t care.
At twenty feet, she choked on a sob and tucked her face into his neck. “If the plane goes down, will you knock me out so that I don’t have to feel the fall?”
“I promise, luv.”
“Okay.” She said nothing further.
With that, he climbed the stairs and ducked into the plane’s interior, making sure to pull Annabelle’s head in at the same time.
Jack ducked into the cockpit of the plane and took the co-pilot’s seat, buckling in as he did so, out of habit. Sam glanced over at him from where he sat in the pilot’s seat, and then turned his attention back to the controls.
“So, you wanna fill me in on why I had to drag myself and Betsy half-way across the Northern American continent to take you and a boat-load of kids to New York City?” Sam’s voice was calm, his tone even, but there was more than a touch of lighthearted sarcasm lacing his words.
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Betsy?”
Sam shot him an incredulous look. “Betsy! Betsy Ross, here!” He patted the control panel of the plane affectionately. Jack smiled.
“Of course.”
“Well?” Sam urged.
“It’s a long story, Sam. And the truth is, I’m not that clear on everything myself.”
“It’s a two-hour flight. Get talkin’.”
Jack chuckled. “Very well.” He paused, forming his words carefully in his mind before he continued. “You met Annabelle.”
Sam gave a low whistle. “Yes, sir.” He shot Jack a wicked grin. “Sweet thing you got there. An’ she’s stuck with you for almost ten years?” At Jack’s nod, Sam shook his head in wonder. “That’s a hell of a lot longer than Bee.”
Again, Jack nodded.
“Her boss was murdered yesterday.”
Sam’s gaze remained locked on the controls, but his brow was furrowed. He was thinking. Jack let the silence stretch. And then, quietly, Sam said, “Was that the Anderson fellow?”
Jack nodded. “You know of the job, then.”
“Was offered to an acquaintance of mine,” he turned to look at Jack then. “Who turned it down, by the way. Bad timing or some such nonsense. I’m not sure who eventually took the assignment.”
“An amateur,” Jack supplied. “Botched it. Even the cops are suspicious.”
Again, Sam whistled, this time shaking his head. “Not good.” He paused then, cocking his head to look at Jack askance. “What’s this got to do with you and Miss Drake, Jack? She involved?”
“She is now.”
“An’ I s’pose that means that you are too.”
Jack didn’t bother answering. His look said it all. He was with Annabelle come hell or high water. Just as she’d always been with him.
“Fair ‘nough,” Sam said. “What’s so important in New York?”
“Max Anderson left a clue for Annabelle before he died. He knew his life was in danger. The clue points to Columbia University.”
Sam was quiet for a long while before, finally, he asked, “You gonna lead the cops to one of us, Jack?”
“No.” Jack’s answer was swift and firm. He knew that Sam would be wary about giving anything away to the police, so he wasn’t surprised that Sam asked the question. But for some reason, he was a little irritated by it.
The silence stretched between them for several minutes. At last, Sam sighed and leaned back, switching on the auto pilot. “From what I could tell, it didn’t look like Drake was all that thrilled to get on the plane. What are you doin’ up here if she’s a loose cannon back there?”
Jack smiled. “She sent me up here to make sure you weren’t drunk or asleep.”
Sam threw back his head and laughed deep and loud. “God damn!” he said, shaking his head again. “Good
