She drops her hands and produces a pout. “Gar… Fernando. I love you. Not him. And you know,” she adds, lowering her voice and giving me a wicked smile. “You’re much better in bed.”
I feel my heart shatter. Ouch. Fucking ouch. “Nina,” I say quietly.
“Prove it,” Fernando coos, wrapping his hands around her backside and cupping her ass. “Fuck me here, in front of him.”
My mouth goes dry and my body chills. No. NO. Nina’s face goes white, but she keeps herself composed.
I yank my chains once again, startling both of them with the clanking. “I’d rather Fernando kill me than watch you lay another fucking hand on my woman.”
Fernando barks out a laugh. “Your woman?” He looks at Nina, who’s face is impassive. I need to know what she’s thinking. “My woman,” he corrects. “Now, watch me fuck my woman.”
For a split second, I see fear in Nina’s eyes. That has to mean something, right? I close my eyes as I hear Fernando unzipping his pants. Something falls into the tile with a clatter. I squeeze one eye open—barely—and I see a gun lying next to Fernando’s left hand as he lies down.
Fucking bastard can’t even fuck her properly. Of course a guy like him would want her to do all of the work.
It makes me sick. Everything about this makes me sick. My chest breaks open as Nina gives him a small, shy smile—so reminiscent of the first time we fucked. Hesitant. Unsure. I want to close my eyes again but I can’t.
No.
No.
No.
“Baby,” she whispers, getting down to her knees. She’s still fully clothed. “I love you.” She directs her words at Fernando, and I feel the bile rising in my throat. My stomach aches, my chest hurts. She’s ripping my fucking heart out, one artery at a time.
Fuck.
Hardcore terrorists could torture me, and they could never break me, but three words out of Nina’s mouth directed at the wrong person gut me—completely and totally annihilate me.
She slides her body on top of his, and he moans. He grabs her ass. “Mmm, baby,” he murmurs, just as she kisses him. I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t fucking watch. I hear some commotion—God I wish I could close my ears, too.
“Fuck you, motherfucker.”
I snap my eyes open. Nina is sitting on the other side of the room, pointing the gun at Fernando. There is no gunshot—yet. If her flared nostrils are any indication, she’s about two seconds away from blowing his brains out. He’s watching her with fury. My heart starts to race.
She looks at me. “Really? You think I’d fuck him in front of you?” she asks, her voice hurt. “God, Benny.”
I let out a relieved laugh. “Thank God.”
She rushes over to me, checking my face and kissing me all over. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy.
“Nina,” Fernando croaks, fully naked on the floor. “Baby, please.”
I’m surprised he’s not calling his guard. He’s in shock—he actually believed her. I suppose I did, too.
“Keys,” she demands, looking at Fernando and cocking the gun. Damn. That’s my girl.
He gestures to his pants. She runs over and grabs the keys, and begins to unlock me. My eyes don’t leave Fernando. He’s just watching us, in awe. That’s right, motherfucker. You’ve been sucker punched. This is what true love looks like.
“If you live to see tomorrow, I hope you realize that women like to be fucked, not the other way around. Spend some time pleasuring her, and maybe someday you’ll have this.”
In a furry of motion, Fernando stands, buck naked. Nina spins around, ready to fire.
“Tell them to let us go, Fernando. Tell them to let us go, and I won’t kill you,” she says, her voice loud and impressive.
I shake the cuffs off my ankles and legs. I stand next to Nina. “Give me the gun,” I ask.
She hands it over without question. I walk over to Fernando, pointing the head of the gun at his right temple.
“Tell them to let us go, and I will honor our previous agreement. If we have to fight our way out of this, you will be killed. I can guarantee that.”
Fernando eyes me with a lot of pure hatred. He’s an inch or two shorter than me, but he’s the same size as me and could easily take me. We have to be quick about this.
“Very well,” he says slowly. “Juan, can you come in here a second? Benjamin has a question about the ventilator.”
The—what?
Realization dawns on me like a metallic cloak, and I spin around just as Fernando tackles me. It was a code word—a fucking code word. As I hit the ground, I hear the door fly open and four guys rush in, guns pointed.
Guns pointed at me.
T H I R T Y - O N E
Nina—Present
Antigua
THE GUN FALLS from Ben’s hand in one swift motion—knocked far away by one of the burly guards. I watch as four men dog pile Ben, wrapping his arms behind his back and cuffing him.
“Nina, run!” Ben bellows.
Fuck.
One of guards smashes his face into the tile, and I cry out. “Stop,” I plead, feeling the tears spring to my eyes. My feet feel glued to the ground. Maybe because I know we’re outnumbered and weaponless.
I won’t run.
I’ll never run.
Fernando pulls his pants on quickly, spinning around and sneering at me. “Stop? You fucking bitch,” he spits, walking up to me and grabbing a handful of hair at the back of my head. “I could snap your neck in half a second.”
“What’s stopping you?” I snarl, jerking an elbow out and colliding my arm against his ribs. He yelps and releases me, but it only incites his anger because he then pushes me against the opposite wall, pinning me beneath him.
“Watch as we shoot his brains out,” Fernando says, breathing hard. He pulls a pair of handcuffs out and cuffs me to the bars on the sole window—the perfect vantage point. I thrash against the metal, hoping the bars give so that I can strangle Fernando before he harms Ben.
My eyes meet Ben’s as four guys pull him up. His lip is bloody where they hit him, and a bruise is beginning to form on his cheek from where they ground his face into the stone. I tense as he gives me an apathetic look—as if he’s saying I’m sorry.
“Ben,” I cry, trying to escape.
It can’t possibly end this way. Not like this. We’ve fought too hard—been through too much—to have everything end right before we find our solace.
A sob breaks free from my lips as they each take turns kicking him—each guard takes a hit, and Ben doesn’t even try to fight back. Why? Does he think it’s pointless? Is he ashamed to have gotten to this point, to the point of surrender? He lands on his knees, swaying a bit as Fernando walks over to his gun on the floor across the room.
Panic bubbles in my throat. No.
Living in Puerto Rico and so close to Mexico and Venezuela, I’d sometimes heard about the gruesome things the cartel did to carry out their agenda. Beheadings, mass shootings, executions, kidnappings, torture, rape… it was common knowledge here. I’d always said a silent prayer for the victims of those families. I’d always felt so terribly sorry for them, but it had luckily never personally affected me.
Until now.
As I watch Fernando cock his gun, taking aim at Ben’s head, I feel nothing but hysteria. The feeling throbs under my skin, ebbing and flowing to the beat of my heart.
“Please,” I shout, yanking the cuffs until my wrists sear. I’d gnaw my hands off to save him—I’d do anything to save Ben. “Kill me. Take me. Let him go, and you can do whatever you want with me.”
It’s a dauntless move, I know. I’m stalling for time. My mind is spinning with ways to get us out of this. Except… there’s nothing else to be done.
Fernando turns and watches me, considering my offer. His eyes flick between Ben and I, and Ben’s eyes shine with fury.
“You will do no such thing,” Ben growls. “Do you hear me, Fernando? You will not lay a hand on her.”
; His words are futile, because we both know the second Fernando does the unthinkable—the second he pulls the trigger and murders Ben—Fernando can do whatever he wants with me either way.
The thought is too gruesome to even entertain.
“I’ll pass.” Fernando’s icy words chill me to the core, and he turns around again, pointing the gun at Ben.
I slump down as far as the handcuffs allow me, whimpering and pleading with nonsensical phrases. I always thought I’d be cool in a firestorm—but seeing as I’m a blubbering mess who isn’t doing anything to save the love of her life, I might have to reevaluate my self-awareness.
Cool dread enters my body, turning my blood to ice.
“I love you, Nina,” Ben whispers.
“I l-love you,” I reply, the tears blurring my vision.
I can’t look—I can’t possibly watch them take my happiness away. My everything. The second they pull that trigger, they might as well shoot me, too. I can already feel it—the pure, undulating sadness that wrecks my body and leaves me feeling shattered, body and soul.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I say a silent prayer—something I haven’t done in years. I need this to be a nightmare. This can’t be my reality. This can’t be Ben’s reality.
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.
Ben’s history can’t be over. I refuse to let him die. I refuse to say goodbye to him for the second time. Letting out a warbled cry, my eyes fly open just as a gunshot rings out.
No.
No.
No.
Terror seizing me, I scream, waiting for Ben to fall forward, studying his beautiful face, but… nothing. It takes me a second to realize what happened, and at first I think Fernando missed. But then I see the blood begin to soak Fernando’s t-shirt. He falls forward onto his face. My eyes scan his guards just as Ben jumps up, running toward me. An older man with thinning black hair and a salt and pepper beard storms the room, holding an automatic rifle. At least fifteen men follow, making the guards surrounding Ben quiver in their stance.
“Sandler,” Ben breathes, just as he frees my hands. He grabs me and pulls me into a tight hug. Relief washes over me, instantaneous and warm. Sandler’s men usher the guards out and Sandler walks over to us, setting the rifle down on the chair.
“Adler,” he says, his voice tinged with relief.
Ben lets me go and grabs Sandler’s hand, shaking it. “Thank you,” he says gruffly. “How’d you know?”
A guy walks forward, tipping his hat at me. Bernstein.
“Bernstein saw you being wheeled away and followed the vehicle. We had to wait an hour to gather the forces. Twenty men are surrounding the house as we speak, and another eighteen are in here with me,” Sandler explains. His brown eyes meet mine. “Ahh. Henry’s daughter.”
I don’t know if it’s because we’ve had an emotional day, or the thought of losing Ben is still fresh on my mind, but I burst out crying as Sandler envelops me into a hug. Perhaps it’s the mention of my dad, and the realization that Sandler knew him, and liked him. Another jigsaw puzzle piece for me to savor from my old life. Another person to share that love. I cry as Sandler passes me off to Ben.
They send us away relatively quickly after that. I always thought people had to stay for hours to answer questions, but in our case, what’s done is done.
The events of today keep replaying in my mind—Sandler shooting Fernando. The CIA swooping in and arresting everyone in the safe house, therefore ensuring our future safety. Turns out, Ben and Sandler had been looking for this particular abode, and we led them right to their target.
And then there was Fernando, dead and cold as they wheeled him away… I feel sick every time I think of the days, months, years I spent with him, totally unsuspecting.
The thought of losing Ben—again—is he most potent. The fear, the sorrow… the all-encompassing relief to know that he was alright, and that we were finally, truly, going to be okay.
We give the CIA a quick statement, and then we’re whisked away to a nearby hotel. Miraculously, our luggage awaits us atop the king-sized bed. I don’t even ask. I know my question would be useless.
Neither of us says anything as we both take off our blood-stained clothing. I don’t even remember where the blood on my shirt came from, and I don’t care to find out. We step into the generic, small shower together, and we stand there holding each other for what seems like hours; until the water runs cold and we’re both shivering. When we get out, the sun is starting to descend below the horizon, so we wrap ourselves up in towels and walk to the window. We don’t even bother going outside—we have the perfect view of the pink sky and the aqua water from inside.
Ben’s hand grazes my side, feeling for me. Our fingers interlock, and he squeezes three times. I know what those squeezes means. Our words may be failing us right now, but I know.
I. Love. You. And to think… I almost lost you. The pain is still there, still coursing through me. I’m sure it’ll be there for a long time.
I don’t care, though. I don’t care what we had to go through, or what remnants of today I still feel, because right now, with my hand in Ben’s, we’re joined as one, and most importantly, we’re together.
Always, Benny. Always.
We stand there until darkness overtakes the ocean. It’s going to take a while to adjust to normalcy. We’re both going to have to get used to the fact that from here on out, our lives will be normal, slow, leisurely. And sure, we’ll have difficult days just like the rest of them. But for today—for tonight—we’re taking it all in as a new life. A new way of living.
“Tomorrow,” Ben says as we’re lying in bed later that night, seconds away from the lull of sleep. “Tomorrow, our life begins, my love.”
T H I R T Y - T W O
Ben—Three Months Later
Copenhagen, Denmark
I SIP MY espresso as the sun beats down on my neck. It’s August in the city, which means the tourists are out in full force. Normally that would bother me, but lately nothing seems to bug me like it once did. I find myself laughing along with strangers, walking slowly along the canal, biking just for the hell of it.
I know a large part of that has to do with the fact that I finally feel like I’m on the right path in life. I’m finally happy, spending my mornings in cooking class and the afternoons making love to Nina in her paint-smeared smock. When faced with death—with major change of any kind—it’s easy to feel sorry for yourself. I decided to embrace the change, to embrace life. This life. The one I’d been sleepwalking through for years, doing a job that would’ve killed me in more ways than one.
Now… now I’m sitting at a table as I wait for my girlfriend to meet me after her painting course. We’re both going to school full-time, to keep ourselves occupied with our separate passions. I set aside some money for us to pursue our dreams, and the concession was a tiny apartment outside of the city center and an agreement to secure full-time jobs once school ends next year. Money may be a bit tight, but we’re happy.
The last time I felt this normal was with Rhonda. And sure, I’ve had my bad days. Nightmares, especially—all involving losing Nina somehow. We’re still healing together, still trying to come out of the other side pain-free. Letting go of the machine—the spy who worked for the CIA—that’s been tough. Nina is helping me, and I’m trying to let that all go. I’m still debriefing from living on the edge, constantly looking around for enemies… it’s been a transition, to say the least. I’m starting to realize that I’m more than my job.
I finish my espresso and glance up at the colorful houses greeting me from across the canal. The square is swarming with tourists, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything—the smell of fresh baked bread, the lustrous colors that meet my gaze at every corner, the hushed sound of murmurs, the feel of the warm air on my skin…
I spot Nina across the square, holding her hand ab
ove her eyes to search for me in the sun. I move to get up and flag her down, but instead stay seated, taking her in—taking everything about her in. I can’t help it. The primal side of me wants to study her, like prey. The animal side wants to squeeze the flesh of her thighs—the exposed skin tantalizing and creamy soft. The gentleman part of me should flag her down, to keep her from the guessing game, but I’m not ready to give up my unnoticed observation.
I lean back in my chair as she starts down the wrong aisle, glancing at every man before continuing on. I notice a few guys gawking at her, taking her in, and I have to quell the possessiveness burning inside of me.
Nina and I aren’t like that. I don’t get jealous (much) and neither does she. In the last three months, we’ve had to learn a lot about ourselves and about each other. It’s natural, easy, and most of all, I trust her with my whole heart. The bond between us cannot be broken. Not now, not ever. We both know that—the deep love that connects us and sears my insides to ashes whenever I catch her off guard or in a vulnerable state, like she is right now, this love burns slowly, strongly, through my veins. I know what she’s thinking, feeling… and vice versa.
Her eyes find mine from a few feet away, crinkling into a smile. I feel my mouth mirror hers and stand as she rushes over.
“You were watching me look for you, weren’t you?” she teases, kissing me softly on the lips. I shrug. “You’re impossible,” she murmurs, eyeing me seductively.
And the sex. The Gods must’ve carved her out just for me. I can’t even think about it without getting hard.
“How was your day?” I ask, my eyes flicking to her lips as she licks them.
“Good,” she muses, looking at the menu. Her decision on what to order is quick, and she sets the menu down. “And yours?”
I tell her about how we learned to make gnocchi from scratch—and how my pesto was voted the best pesto in class. I take pride in that. I love learning how to cook, and I’m glad I get to learn with her by my side while she enjoys something that she loves to do. She tells me a little bit about her day, but I don’t press her for more information.
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