I guffaw. “Gee, thanks for throwing me under the bus, Ben,” I joke, and he immediately spins around.
“I’m not throwing you under the bus. I’m protecting you. There is a difference. That guy in there? He could have a stake in the cartel. If he suspects anything—we are as good as dead.”
“Okay, I get it,” I reply, my voice lost somewhere in my throat. Ben grabs my hand roughly and drags me into our room on the first floor. When he closes the door, he drops his bag and pushes me onto the bed forcefully, a dark determination in his eyes. I expect him to pull my shorts down, but instead he kneels in front of me.
“Do you get it?” He asks, his voice gentle.
I swallow. “Of course. I understand. I was only joking before.”
He traces his hands up my calves and digs his nails into my thighs. I suck in a breath of air. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, Nina. I will protect you, always. If I have to, I will disappear again, to save you. If I have to, I will die for you. If I have to, I will tell you to run. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe,” he murmurs, kissing my knee.
I stare at him. “Hopefully none of that will happen,” I answer, my voice unsteady. “I want…” I swallow, trying to think of the best words to describe how I’m feeling. “I want to grow old with you. I want to be able to say I lived this amazing life with you. None of it matters if you’re not here, too,” I reply, running my fingers through his messy, scarlet hair.
He nods. “I know.” Kissing my sensitive skin gently, he works his way down my calves, his lips leaving a trail of fiery heat where they just were. “I am yours now,” he says quietly, kissing the tops of my feet. “Indisputably, undeniably yours. Do you understand?”
My heart expands as his eyes bore into mine, the seriousness overtaking the room like a heavy cloak. “I understand,” I whisper, throwing my head back as he runs his hands up my legs again. I’m burning for him.
“Nina,” he says, his voice pensive, pulling away and looking at me with so much tenderness, it almost renders me unable to move. Almost. I reach out for him, but he doesn’t want to be distracted. He’s about to say something important. “I want you to be safe. I need you to be safe,” he starts, reaching out and tracing the zig-zag pattern of the cheap, polyester quilt on the bed, where I sit. “When I was nine, I met my soulmate. Those four years—every single day until I left for Montana—were the best years of my life.”
I open my mouth to speak, but I’m unsure what to say. He waits for me to gather my thoughts. “But… you were being abused,” I say, my voice going up an octave as if it’s a question. “How could they possibly have been the best years of your life?”
He nods slowly. “I was. Beaten, emotionally abused, punished, starved… my home life was a dark, cesspool of unhappiness. But do you know what I thought about every single night when I went to bed hungry? Every day my dad would slap me, and I’d feel the potent sting of betrayal? Every morning when he’d follow me to school, keeping tabs on my every movement… I thought of you. I thought of the kindness you showed me, the way you understood me without saying a word. I felt your love in those dark days, Nina. I felt it during the scary, uncertain plane ride to Montana. I felt it for years… and I still feel it. This whole situation sucks, but I’m with you. Everything will be okay, as long as you love me.”
I swallow, trying not to choke on my sobs. Sniffling, I wipe the tears off my cheeks. “I did love you, Ben. I… I do love you.”
His eyes don’t leave mine. We’re mesmerized by each other, revealing our truths. I don’t look away, because I’m seeing the raw, vulnerable side of him, the side that I love the most. His eyes water, but he doesn’t break eye contact. I can almost hear the buzz of our connection in the air. I’m practically vibrating with it—with the unseen, sinewy link of our bottomless love for each other.
A love that never went away.
A love that ceased to disappear, even after years of being apart.
“I love you too, Nina Cosway. I’ve lived a whole life between our time together. I’ve seen some amazing things, met some amazing people… but you’re my favorite part of my history.”
I nod and cry at the same time as he jumps up and showers me with gentle kisses… a kiss on every inch of me for every minute we were apart. As he undresses me and makes sweet, slow love to me, I feel every emotion pass through me one by one.
Love… so much love. Anger at the years we spent apart. Anger for the years I could’ve had him by my side. Loss. Compounded, devastating, soul-destroying loss. Jealousy of his history with women, though I’m not complaining when he does that thing with his tongue. Pride at the man he’s become. Lust… lots of primal lust. Fear and sadness about our unknown future… it tears through me quickly and powerfully, and I have to close my eyes to keep the tears out as we climax together.
I know now that I will never be able to leave him. If he ever tells me to run, I will instead take his hand and stand by him. I know now that my whole life without Ben—my life up until now—I was yearning for something. I longed for the days of laughing under the covers; sharing a bowl of candy; holding hands as we crossed the street. I longed for the days of being so close to someone, you finished each other’s sentences. The days and weeks after Ben’s death, I felt an empty, gaping hole in my heart. A part of that hole never healed, and I think it was waiting for Ben to fill it again.
Our time apart was unfortunate, but we’re so damn lucky that we found each other again. In the years apart, I couldn’t recall what Ben looked like or what his laugh sounded like. I didn’t remember the way he always stands with his arms crossed, or the way he giggled like a girl when I tickled him. However, in those years, I could conjure the feeling of being around him. I remembered the feeling of my soul having found its mate—the feeling of belonging when I was with him.
My brain must’ve known all along about the the love I was capable of feeling for Ben. Now, as adults, as lovers… my heart is all caught up.
T W E N T Y - E I G H T
Nina—Present
Isla Culebra, Puerto Rico
I DON’T SLEEP at all. I toss and turn for hours, my nerves gnawing at my stomach until I finally get up and pace around the room. Ben is snoring lightly on the bed, though I’m not sure how he managed to fall asleep in the first place. I’m not even tired. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I sit down, stand up, pace around, take a long bath, and sit back down again. I even turn on the television, watching reruns of a telenovela for two hours before the sun starts to peek through the green and blue curtains.
I shake Ben awake at first light. I want this done—I want to get it all over with and behind us. If we’re going to run, I want to get a head start. I want to be out of this country by nightfall, by any means possible.
Ben is groggy at first, but upon realizing what day it is and what we have to do, he sits up and rubs his eyes.
“I’ll go grab us some coffee from the lobby,” he grumbles, pulling me onto his lap and kissing me hard on the lips. “I love you.”
We’ve said I love you at least fifty times each since our conversation last night, but I doubt it’ll ever get old with him. After he leaves, I lock the door and start our breakfast of bread and jam, plus a few island bananas. I’ve come to love this fat, yellow fruit that tastes nothing like the bananas I know and love. They’re crispy, like apples, and so fulfilling. When Ben knocks on the door a few minutes later, I throw it open without even checking.
“Next time, you need to look and see who’s out here,” he says quickly, giving me an exasperated glare.
“I knew it was you,” I reply sharply.
“Still,” he says loudly, setting the cups down a little too roughly. Milky coffee laps over the edges of the cups. “Always check, okay?”
I cross my arms and shoot daggers at him. He shakes his head, the hint of a smile barely grazing the corners of his lips. That does it. We burst out laughing. We’re being ridiculous. It�
��s a scary day for us. Obviously we’re both stressed, but there’s no point in arguing with each other when the whole point of today is to try and start over together.
“Sorry,” he says, walking over to me and pulling me into him abruptly. I love it when he grabs me like that—like he can’t get to me fast enough.
“I’m sorry too. I’ll be more careful. Promise.” I angle my head up and he places his lips on mine.
“Let’s eat,” he says into my mouth. I can feel his hardness on my hip. “Otherwise, I’ll want to spend the whole day fucking you every which way in this motel room.”
His words send shivers down my spine. I nod, agreeing, and we reluctantly pull apart.
Breakfast is eaten quietly and slowly. The nerves are curdling in my stomach, giving me absolutely no appetite. I barely touch my piece of bread, but I do drink all of my coffee. As I’m picking off small pieces to eat, Ben stands and begins to pace the room. I know he’s thinking, setting the plan up in his head, and I lie down on the bed to try and relax. It’s barely seven in the morning.
“When will you call?” I ask quietly.
Ben shuffles his feet and looks down. “In a minute. Sandler is usually up before the sun.”
We both look at the motel phone like it’s dynamite. In case we have to use our plan B, there’s a ferry to the main island at nine, according to the brochure on the desk, and another leaving for Antigua at ten. Ben says we can connect with Fernando’s guys there if need be.
“Just call,” I urge breathlessly. “I’m going to go insane soon from waiting,” I add, flopping over onto my stomach.
Ben watches me for a second before nodding and walking over to the phone. He picks it up, and his index finger grazes the first number. I wait as he dials.
“Sandler,” Ben says, his voice completely different than the one he uses with me. It’s hard and professional. A don’t-fuck-with-me voice. I hear a voice on the other end, and my whole body goes rigid.
Sandler is yelling.
Ben looks at me, the color from his face draining out.
Oh, God.
Were we stupid to call? Did we think this would be easy? Sandler has everything in his arsenal to kill Ben, and even though Ben is his protégé, Sandler is still a trained spy. He will do whatever he has to do to protect the agency—and their agenda here in Puerto Rico. They kill without mercy. And we might have just dug our grave.
“Sandler,” Ben says, interrupting him. His voice is tense. “I understand. Let me explain.” More yelling on the other end. Ben stiffens, sighing heavily. “There’s no need for that.”
No need for what?
I pace the room. I don’t take my eyes off of Ben. He nods, switching the phone to the other ear. The phone.
They can track it. They know where we are.
“Nina Cosway,” he says, his voice much softer now. It startles me. “Henry’s daughter.” Silence. Ben looks at me, giving me a jittery smile. I’m not sure if he’s making progress or if he’s just trying to make me feel better. I can barely breathe. “Isla Culebrita.” Pause. “I’m… finally happy, Jerry.” Jerry? Is that Sandler’s first name? Ben nods again, letting whatever Sandler is saying to sink in. “I’ve… wanted this for a long time. I think it would be best if I put in my resignation.”
My eyes go wide. What?
More yelling.
Cringing, I take a seat in the small chair next to the window. My eyes follow Ben as he paces around and around, from one end of the small room to the other. He closes his eyes and sighs, and my heart stops.
I leap up. Is that a good sigh, or a bad sigh?
“Thank you, Sandler,” he says slowly, as if the words are unbelievable on his tongue. “I will repay you one day.”
I want to feel relieved, but I don’t let the tension leave. I need to know for sure.
Ben walks over to the phone and hangs up, staring at the plastic box for a few seconds before his eyes meet mine.
“So?” I ask impatiently. My heart jumps. Thump, thump, thump.
Ben shakes his head, and my stomach drops. “He was pissed. I’ve never heard him yell like that. But… he understands. He’s not happy, but he understands. He’s sending a boat in an hour, and it’s going to take us to the airport in Antigua.”
I grin, jumping up and down. “And our passports?” I squeal, reaching out for him.
Ben nods, still in shock. “Yeah. Bernstein will meet us at the airport, at Big Banana—a restaurant lounge located outside of security. From there, we’ll buy tickets to a flight out of Antigua—to London most likely. And then we’ll get a connecting flight to Copenhagen.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper. We’re getting out.
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “It didn’t hurt that I was with you, I think. He has a soft spot for your dad. I’ll have to repay him somehow, but for now, we’re leaving.”
I giggle and run over to him, throwing my arms around his neck. “It’s going to be okay,” I state, sitting on his lap clad only in a small towel. His hand moves up my thigh.
“Yes,” he whispers, his face relaxed for the first time since leaving the island. “We’re going to be okay.”
“Did he say anything about me?” I ask, kissing his face along his jaw.
“He said we caused quite an uproar at the resort—they have thirty people looking for you, Nina.”
I straighten. “Fuck.”
He nods. “Yeah. He also said he’d love to get a statement from you, so that he can release it to the media on our behalf. He wasn’t happy about that part. He hates doing the dirty work. But, he offered.”
I take his hand. “Sure. Anything. We owe him our lives,” I breath.
Ben pulls me into him tightly, wrapping his arm arms around his middle. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispers, his voice sounding almost surprised.
I laugh and stand. “Well, we better have it easy from here on out. I’ve had enough drama and death to last a lifetime. Now go shower so we can get on that boat.”
“Oh, and he’s clearing our name, taking you off the missing person’s list. We don’t have to hide anymore, Nina. We can be ourselves. Together.”
I jump up and down. “I’ll call Rachel and Garrett on the car ride over,” I say quickly, jogging over to my purse and plugging my phone in to charge for a few minutes before we leave.
In ten minutes, we’re packed, dressed, and ready to go.
I put my phone in my back pocket. “Ready?” I ask, reaching for his hand.
Ben grins, taking my hand in his. “Let’s do this.”
T W E N T Y - N I N E
Nina—Present
V.C. Bird International Airport, Antigua
ON THE TAXI ride to our boat on Isla Culebra, I managed to call Rachel and Garrett briefly. Rachel cried the entire time, and I promised I would call and update her again once in Europe. Garrett was relieved, saying he hadn’t been able to sleep since I disappeared. He asked where we were headed, so I told him. I figured it didn’t matter anymore since my name was cleared. We said our goodbyes, and it seemed like everything was finally tied up in a nice, little bow.
By now, Sandler had dropped my brief statement to the press, and it was a good thing we were leaving because all of the televisions in the airport were showing a picture of my face and a printed out version of my statement. Cringing, Ben and I glide quickly through the airport to Big Banana, where his coworker is meeting us with our passports. I don’t want anyone to recognize me, but luckily everyone seems to be minding their own business.
The boat ride to the airport took a little over an hour. Ben and I had to wear life vests, and the man driving the boat seemed to be an acquaintance of Ben’s. They chatted for a bit while I took in the beauty and wonder of the Caribbean islands. I was sad to go, but the excitement about starting over with Ben in a new city kept me from feeling too much sadness in regards to leaving the place I called home for two years. The boat took us to a small dock on Antigua, and from there a black SUV carried us to V
.C. Bird International Airport, one of the biggest hubs in the Caribbean.
It’s a small airport, only one terminal and one runway. It’s fairly empty since it’s still early. I see the Big Banana sign and a single man waiting at the bar. Ben and I walk up to him.
“Bernstein,” Ben says simply, reaching his hand out.
“Adler,” the man says. He’s short with slicked back blond hair and glasses. “Here you go,” he says, handing Ben an unmarked manila envelope. “Sad to see you go,” he says quickly, standing and nodding once in my direction. “Good luck with everything.”
Ben reaches out and brings him into a hug. “Tell the team I appreciate everything they’ve done. I’ll be in touch. Stay safe, man.”
Bernstein nods and turns, walking away toward the entrance. I look down at the envelope, bending the prongs to open it. Sure enough, two U.S. passports sit inside—one for me, one for Ben. I flip through mine, surprised.
“This is my actual passport,” I say, holding it out. “Look, here’s the stamp I got at Maccu Pichu,” I add, touching the paper. “How did…” I trail off because Ben has a large grin plastered on his face.
“Never ask how they do what they do, Nina. They have their ways.” He throws the envelope away and pockets the passports. Throwing an arm around my shoulder, he leads us to the check-in counter for Virgin Atlantic.
Smiling, I look up at him. “What are we going to do in Denmark?”
Ben gives me a sideways glance. “Perhaps I’ll take a cooking class?”
I take his hand and squeeze it tightly. “Yeah, and maybe I’ll spend my days painting along the infamous river, drinking cappuccinos, and eating Danish rye with smoked sardines. Isn’t that what they eat there?”
Ben chuckles. “Sometimes. I’ll take you to Noma in Copenhagen, the best restaurant in the world. I know the chef. He’ll get us a table.”
I giggle. “Oooh, fancy,” I say, excitement bubbling in my abdomen.
We walk up to the counter and purchase two one-way tickets to Copenhagen, by way of London and then Amsterdam. The woman at the counter doesn’t say anything about me or my passport, so either she was trained to be professional or she simply doesn’t follow the news. Our string of luck is a huge relief. Maybe the universe has had enough of our suffering, and is now giving us easy passage to the next chapter in our lives? It’s about damn time.
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