by Amber Bardan
I didn’t launch myself at him the way I normally would. The heavy empty feeling in the pit of my stomach overrode all else. He put on clean pants, and a shirt, then pulled something from his bag and laid it on the edge of the bed for me without a word.
An envelope.
My pulse quickened. I’d developed an aversion to envelopes—their contents rarely went in my favor.
He fastened the button on his sleeve.
I leaned across the bed and took the envelope, tore open the top, and reached inside. My fingers closed around a small piece of plastic. I slid it out, sitting up on the bed.
“What the hell is this?”
I stared at the license in my hand. My license. The one with my actual name on it. The name of the girl half the globe was searching for. I shouldn’t have this thing near me let alone on my person.
I shook out the envelope. A small blue pill tumbled onto the bedspread.
My stomach twisted.
“That’s Plan D.” He looped a solid red tie at his neck, then pulled the end down through the loop.
“We don’t need Plan D. I’ll let you go off now on your own, if that makes it easier for you.” I swung my legs off the bed, then slammed the license and the pill on the bedside table. “But then you’re damn well coming back to get me.”
He didn’t answer, just pulled the knot tight at his throat.
An acrid bitterness stung the back of my mouth. “I won’t do it, Haithem.”
He raised his gaze to mine, and flipped down his collar. “Won’t do what?”
“I won’t give up.” I swallowed, eyes burning. “Plan D is giving up. I won’t do any of it.”
He smoothed the tie and stepped towards me. My heart flipped over. And there he was—the Haithem I’d first met—the shark. The man with no rules other than to win. He advanced on me now, that look in his eye. It seemed like so long since I’d seen this him.
Or maybe I’d thought he’d gone—vanquished by love.
“Yes, you will,” he said.
“No, I won’t.” I spoke between my teeth.
He reached for me, hooked his fingers over my shoulders, and looked deep down into my face. “You will.”
“I can’t,” I said. My eyes stung. “If there’s no me and you, then everything has been for nothing.”
“There will always be a me and you.” He gripped the back of my neck. “That’s why if the worst happens you need to leave me behind and protect yourself.”
Wetness rolled down to my lips.
“I won’t.” I grabbed his shirt. “I’ll do anything but not that.”
“You will.” He wiped my cheeks, and he brought his nose to mine. “You know how I know you will?”
I shook my head, the tip of my nose dragging on his.
“Because I know you,” he whispered. “I know how strong you are.” His breath brushed my lips. I breathed the air from his lungs. “I know I can trust you—” his fingers moved up my scalp behind my ears, tilted my face deeper to his “—that when the moment comes you will do whatever must be done—no matter how hard.”
His words melted from his mouth to mine, and I felt my lips, disembodied—agreeing. I heard whispered, crying, yeses and I will’s.
“Remember when you told me you were indestructible?”
A moment of pain sharper than the rest cut through the haze of him saying goodbye. I blinked and jerked back. He held me tighter, stiller—stared at me. That ugly memory pounded in the back of my head. Perhaps the worst moment the two of us ever had. When he’d thought I was a spy and sucked my darkest secrets out of my head.
“Yes, I remember.” A familiar salty tightness swelled my tongue, a mix of tears and dread.
His grip went tight behind my ears. “Swear to me that nothing will make you forget.”
Whatever shit I had left to lose, attacked the gates of my self control like an arc full of rabid animals. But I choked silently. Didn’t let myself gasp or cry out or fall on the floor.
No.
I blinked and blinked. He wanted me to promise to be okay if something happened to him. I gripped his shoulders. A blanket of bleakness wrapped around me.
“There’s nothing that can make me forget.” My chin lifted. My nose bumped his. True, nothing would force me back to the dark place I’d been before. But, that didn’t mean I could take losing him.
“Tell me again what you are.” He slid his hand to the back of my skull and squeezed my hair just a little.
No way would I ever let him worry about me when he needed to look out for himself.
“I’m fucking indestructible.”
He planted his mouth on mine, smooshing my lips against my teeth. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. Pulled his hair and plunged my tongue into his mouth. He held my face and kissed the breath out of me. My jaw strained, but my mouth didn’t stop opening, I couldn’t stop breathing off of his exhales. His fingers tightened in my hair. I opened my mouth wider taking more of his tongue.
He tugged on my hair, breaking the kiss.
I panted, but didn’t let go of him.
He ran kisses up my jaw to my temple, then breathed against my hair. “I love you, Angelina.”
“I love you, too,” I said, my voice only wavering at the end.
I hugged him with all the strength in my arms.
He squeezed me back.
“I need to leave now,” he said against my ear.
“I know.” I sucked back the tears, clamped down on that pain and pushed it way down into that box of hurt I used to utilize so very well.
He released me.
I made my fingers let go. Made my hands fall to my sides. He collected his bag, and I followed him out the door. Held his hand and walked with him down the hallway. Went with him onto the veranda.
He pulled his car keys out of his pocket. “I have to go.”
“So you said.” I forced my breaths in evenly.
For the first time since I’d met him, there was something truly youthful in his face. Something so vulnerable it almost tore my chest open. I held in the agony. I’d had so much practice at juggling suffering it should’ve been easier.
“Goodbye, Haithem.” I said. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
His eyes sparkled a vibrant brown.
“I’ll see you in five days.” He stepped forward and planted one last kiss on my forehead.
I watched him walk down the steps. Soaked up the sight of him for every moment I had left with him. He slid into the car. The engine started with a hum. The wheels ground against the gravel and he pulled out of the driveway.
Please come back to me.
I watched until the car passed the bend in the road visible from the veranda. Then I fell forward, gripped a post for support, breathed against my sobs while they rattled my ribs. When I could stand, when I could get air in my lungs to move, I brushed my face with my hands, dried my eyes and went back to our bedroom.
Five days.
What was five days in terms of forever?
Haithem
A car pulled up across the street.
I stared through the crack in the curtain, squinted in the dark at the vehicle. A driver emerged, opened the door. A woman stepped out, cradling a sleeping child in her arms. They walked towards the building across from me. Not that it’d have mattered if it’d been a van full of armed assassins—my own guards patrolled this building. The best guards money could buy. Except for the few I’d employed to watch over Angelina. Those were, in fact, better. The best of the best. I tugged the curtains closed, and turned to the bed.
The empty, still-made bed.
Adrenaline kept my pulse racing. Even in sleep my dreams were wired, more vivid, colorful and excruciating.
No point lying down.
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The moment I set my head on the pillow I’d be met with bloody scenes, or awoken by a jolt like when you dream of falling.
I’d see her face in my mind before my eyes opened again. My heart wouldn’t slow until I proved to myself she was okay. That I hadn’t left her unsafe.
I sat in the chair beside the bed, and unlocked my phone. Flicked through saved images. None of her face—I wouldn’t risk carrying around something like that. Her hip while she lay on her side. The back of her neck while she brushed her hair. Pictures I’d dared keep.
My thumb paused over an image.
In the three days since I’d left her, there hadn’t been time to catch a breath, but I’d still had time to think about this—think about her. I tugged the tie free from around my neck and tossed it on the bed. As far as production went, things couldn’t have gone smoother. I’d most likely finish early. A lifetime of work coming to fruition, so why did I feel this tightening around my throat? That same plunging sensation I had just before I hit the ground in my sleep—before the electric jolt.
Someone had followed us on the way to the train station.
Someone had tracked us down.
Like they’d found us on that first yacht, and I still hadn’t figured out how. Not even Avner could explain. Losing whoever followed didn’t change the fear crawling under my skin.
Shouldn’t have left her behind.
But, I couldn’t have her here. If something happened this would be where it did. In the heart of it all. At the very center of what I’d created.
I gazed at the screen.
No planning could be careful enough. Not with what hunted me.
Now perhaps her, too.
I exited the photo album and pressed an app on my phone. Scrolled through the options, and found the one I needed. A heartbeat thumped though the phone speaker—slow and even.
Healthy and well.
I left the phone on, and set it on the table, stared at the curtains, and listened to that rhythmic sound.
Perhaps I should feel guilty for spying on her heartbeat without her knowing. I was sick, getting sicker by the minute.
A liar, too. I still kept things from her. It wouldn’t be impossible to call. My phone was untraceable. It was entirely possible to tell her how we’d been followed. Just as it was possible to tell her how the worry drove me mad.
But this was my fight—my battle. My burden.
And I’d asked enough of her. I’d cost her too much.
Selfishly, I’d rather deceive her to keep her happy and keep her loving me. This wasn’t the beautiful pure thing my father felt for my mother. A man of few words, the way he’d watch her, listen to her. From the moment she stepped in the door she’d be talking. The woman didn’t pause between sentences. He’d hear every single thing she said.
When she’d set dinner in front of him, the only time my father ever remembered to eat, he’d kiss her hands.
I’m sure there were times he’d kissed her feet.
That’s how I’d envisioned love.
But my father would never have done the things I’d done. Never do any of the things I still might do. Not even to protect her. He wouldn’t. He’d had lines he wouldn’t cross.
He’d been a good man.
Every moment I’d gone without sleep seemed to capture me at once. Weariness entered my muscles and bones. I closed my eyes, and tipped back my head. Not to sleep, just to listen. To picture the face that belonged to that heartbeat.
In a different world I’d long to be like my father. In this one I knew exactly what good men got.
Yes, my father loved my mother—and in the end he’d watched her die.
Chapter Eight
On the veranda, a cup of tea warming my palms, it should have been true tranquility. Not a sound except for the breeze. The staff retired for the night in their quarters. They’d all been nice, all been hospitable. Even the ones who didn’t speak English. They’d guided me around the property. Shown me nature’s abundance in plants I’d never seen. Convinced me to crush leaves between my fingers, smell and taste things I didn’t know the names of. Cooked for me. Made me try things that made my palate burn. Things that looked savory but tasted sweet. The need was there in me to explore everything.
To lose myself in the otherness.
I stared out from my seat on the veranda. The road to the house snaked over a hill, most of it obscured by the landscape. Where I sat, in that exact spot, I caught a glimpse of any vehicle that approached.
There hadn’t been many in the past five days.
He should’ve been back an hour ago.
I stroked the face of the watch on my wrist. As expected, the minute hand had moved about three minutes in the space of what seemed an hour. No matter how much I’d prepared myself, this was the hardest part. Waiting. I took a sip of tea. The tang of lemon cleansed my palate. I’d adjusted to drinking tea since arriving here. Everyone always seemed to be thrusting a pot on me. When we made it home, I might actually order it over coffee.
Sometimes.
Maybe.
At least I think the tea helped with the heart palpitations—more accurately, the tea didn’t seem to be exacerbating them the way coffee would.
I set the cup down, and checked my watch again. An hour and five minutes late. When he got back he’d cop an earful. First I’d demonstrate my entire vocal range, then hug him, then take him to bed.
Then sleep.
That order.
Sleep, that might be the best part. I hadn’t slept right since he’d been gone. Hadn’t been able to lie down properly in bed. My body expected him to be there. My skin shivered on the sheets, waiting for his touch.
The sun hit the top of the hill, turning yellow. I squinted, refusing to stop watching the road short of blindness.
It’d be dark soon. He’d said he’d definitely be here before dark. My temples throbbed but I watched the road. Watched the sun sink until darkness smothered the landscape. Poured a cup of lukewarm tea from the pot into my cup and drank it. Checked the watch again. The hands and numbers blurred in the dark. I glanced over my shoulder at the door.
But I wouldn’t go inside.
Inside meant accepting the possibility of Plan D. Going inside meant giving up. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the wicker chair.
I’d wait out here all night.
Something clamped over my arm. I bolted upright, almost smacking my forehead into a shadow. I blinked, vision adjusting in the dark. The face of the person crouched in front of me came into obscured focus.
“Haithem?” I grabbed his shoulders, and dug my fingers into his muscles, proving that this was no vision or ghost.
“Where are your things?” he whispered.
I licked my dry sleep cracked lips. “Packed and ready in the bedroom.”
“Stay here. Don’t move.” His shadow rose, and footsteps padded across the veranda. The front door creaked. He went inside without turning on a single light.
I pried myself out of the chair I’d fallen asleep on outside on the veranda, and stood. I rubbed my chest. Looked like the heart palpitations were back and they seemed to come bearing grudges.
He crept out of the door, my bag in one hand, and reached for me with the other. His fingers slid between mine and he led me down the stairs into the driveway.
“What’s going on?” I whispered, then glanced around. “Where’s the car?”
“Parked a little further down the road.” He led me out the front gate and over the hill.
I pushed through knee-length grass, strides bordering on a jog. We reached the car parked under the branches of a tree. Almost impossible to find in near blackness with no streetlights.
He opened the door and ushered me into the car, then took t
he driver’s seat. I buckled my seatbelt. The engine started with a gentle purr.
“Aren’t you going to turn on the headlights?”
“No,” he said, leaning close to the wheel. The car rolled slowly through the grass until we hit the smoothness of the road.
“There aren’t any street lights here.” I narrowed my gaze out the window, moonlight only enough to make out shadows.
“We’ll go slowly for a while.” The car sped up. Not fast but not the crawl it should be. I held on to the arm rest.
Eventually, he turned on to another road and hit the headlights.
I breathed out, and finally looked at him. Even with only the dim reflection of headlights into the car the sight of him stopped my heart. Relief and fear in one neat little bundle.
“What happened?” I reached over and touched his cheek. His whiskers had grown out into the beard I’d known was coming, but this one was absolute scruff. I’d never even imagined him so unkempt.
“Nothing happened,” he said, relaxing back into his seat.
I watched him, the need to unleash at him now a petty memory. “Then why were you late?”
“I had to double back a few times on the way to you.” He placed a hand on my knee. “Just to be sure.”
I covered the hand on my knee with my own. “Did everything else go well?”
“It’s all set.” His chin rose. “Nothing will stop us now. Regardless of what happens.”
What happens?
I suppressed a shudder. “Then that’s all that matters.”
Fingers tightened over my knee, and he tore his gaze from the road and looked at me. “No, that’s not all that matters.”
His chest rose and fell, then he looked back at the road.
I rubbed the top of his hand.
We drove in silence. No radio to break the drone of the engine or the hum of tires.
My head bounced against the headrest, and I drifted into a place of exhaustion where everything blurred. Where I wasn’t asleep but wasn’t awake.
He spoke to me once or twice, I’m not sure what I answered but there were words. Everything merged into a haze of changing landscape, increasing traffic, sounds of street and far, far too many people.