Under His Cover

CHAPTER 2: THIRTY THOUSAND FEET OF TROUBLE



The hum of the jet engine was steady and low, cutting through the quiet cabin.
Evangeline leaned her head against the window, watching the dark sky outside. The cabin was all dark leather, warm lights, and glossy wood. Very expensive, very smooth—and completely claustrophobic.
She looked down at her left hand. The silver band on her ring finger felt cold.
Eva Vance.
She almost scoffed out loud. For five years, she hadn't used a real name, let alone a last one. Now, according to the fake registry loaded on her tablet, she was married to the most infuriating man in the division.
Across the aisle, glass clinked.
Alexander was stretched out in his seat like he owned the plane. His suit jacket was tossed over the armrest, the top buttons of his white shirt undone, dark hair falling messy over his forehead. He took a slow sip of his whiskey, watching her over the rim of the glass with those annoying grey eyes.
"You've been staring at that ring for ten minutes, Eva," he said quietly.
"I'm counting the ways I could take it off," she replied, not looking up. "Starting with your finger."
Alexander let out a short laugh. "A bit harsh for our wedding night, don't you think?"
"This isn't a wedding, Vance. It's a job."
"It's both," he said, leaning forward and setting his glass down on the small table between them. "And if you keep glaring at me like you want to put a bullet in my neck, Silas’s security will shoot us before we make it past the front gates."
Evangeline turned to face him, narrowing her eyes. "I know how to play a role."
"Sure. You're great at playing the cold, dangerous assassin," Alexander murmured, a faint smirk touching his lips. "But can you play a woman who actually wants to be here? Can you touch my arm without flinching? Or look at me without clenching your jaw?"
He unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up.
Evangeline’s body went tense out of habit, but she forced herself to sit still as he stepped across the narrow aisle. He was tall enough that his shoulders blocked out half the cabin light.
He stopped right in front of her seat, leaning down until they were eye-level.
"Let's test it," he whispered.
"Touch me and see what happens," she said, her voice dropping into a warning.
Alexander didn't listen. Slowly, he reached out. Evangeline braced herself for a block, but his fingers just caught a loose strand of hair by her face and tucked it behind her ear.
His thumb grazed her jawline. His hand was warm—annoyingly warm. Her pulse picked up a fraction of a second too fast, and she hated herself for it.
Alexander’s eyes flickered down to her mouth, then back to her eyes. His smirk widened just a fraction.
"Pulse is running fast, Eva," he said softly. "You nervous?"
"I'm disgusted," she snapped, knocking his hand away with her forearm. "Learn the difference."
Alexander just chuckled, taking a half-step back, though he stayed standing right over her.
"Lying isn't going to help us," he said. "In three hours, we land. Silas doesn't just check passports. He watches how people move together. If you stiffen up every time I put a hand on your waist, we're dead."
Evangeline hated that he made sense.
Silas was paranoid. He survived by noticing small mistakes. A hesitated touch or a cold look at the wrong second would burn the entire operation.
She picked up her tablet from the side table, breaking the tension. "Fine. Let's go over the villa details. No more touching."
Alexander raised his hands in mock surrender and sat down in the seat right next to hers. The space was tight, their shoulders brushing through their shirts. Every time he shifted, she caught the faint smell of cedarwood and rain. It was distracting, and she hated how aware she was of him sitting there.
"Silas’s place sits on a cliff overlooking the ocean," she said, keeping her voice strictly business as she scrolled the screen. "Party starts at eight. Two hundred guests—mostly politicians and high-end criminals."
"And the server room?" Alexander asked, his playful mood disappearing as he locked into operational mode.
"Sub-level two," she pointed to a highlighted red zone on the blueprint. "Under the main ballroom. Steel door, double lock: a physical key and a facial scan."
"Silas keeps the key on him at all times," Alexander added. "Which means one of us has to lift it while he's distracted."
"I'll take the key," Evangeline said instantly. "My hands are faster."
"And I'm better at talking to rich maniacs," Alexander replied with a small grin. "Deal. Once we have it, we slip downstairs during the fireworks at midnight. Copy the drive, put the key back, and walk out."
"Sounds too clean," she muttered. "Which means it won't go like that."
"Have a little faith, wife," he teased.
Before she could answer, the console by the cockpit chimed. A red light started blinking.
Alexander reached over and tapped the button. "Vance here."
Director Marcus's voice came through the speaker, heavy with static.
"We have a slight change of plans," Marcus said flatly.
Evangeline sat up straight. "Is the cover blown?"
"No," Marcus said. "But Silas added a security check ten minutes ago. He got nervous about unvetted guests."
"How bad?" Alexander asked, his jaw tightening.
"He's sending his head of security—a guy named Viktor—to the airport," Marcus explained. "Viktor will be waiting on the tarmac when the plane lands."
Evangeline felt her chest tighten. "He's meeting us at the jet?"
"He's escorting you directly to the villa," Marcus corrected. "Which means he'll be watching you from the second you step off the stairs. If he sees anything weird between you two, you won't make it to the car."
The line cut out.
Silence heavy enough to feel filled the cabin. Outside the small window, the dark clouds were opening up to reveal the bright, glowing grid of Monaco down below. The jet began to tilt downward, starting its descent.
Ten minutes left.
Evangeline unbuckled her belt, her mind running through quick excuses. "We need a story for why we flew in late. If Viktor asks—"
Alexander stood up, cutting her off in one move.
Before she could pull back, his hand came around her waist, yanking her flush against his chest. Her breath caught sharply as her hips bumped against his. His other hand cupped the back of her neck, tilting her head up. His gray eyes were intense, dark, and entirely unreadable.
"Vance, what are you doing—"
"Stop thinking for a second, Eva," he murmured, his thumb pressing lightly against the skin behind her ear. His face was inches from hers, close enough that she could feel the warm air of his breath against her lips. "No more plans. Viktor is standing down there with binoculars."
Evangeline’s heart was pounding against her ribs. She could feel the solid weight of his chest pressing against her, his body heat completely wiping out the cool air of the cabin.
"He's going to look at us," Alexander whispered, his gaze dropping to her lips before sliding back to her eyes. "And he needs to see a guy who can't keep his hands off his wife."
Below them, the jet's tires hit the wet runway with a hard jolting screech. The plane slowed down, taxiing toward the bright lights of the private hangar.
Outside the window, three black SUVs were parked on the wet tarmac. A tall guy in a long coat stood out front under an umbrella, staring straight at the cabin doors.
Alexander looked down at her, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his face.
"Time to play nice, darling," he whispered.
He slid his fingers through hers, locking their hands together, and pulled her toward the opening door.