“Thank you,” I begin guardedly, “but—”
He pats my hand. “Give me forty-eight hours, please. If you’re not feeling safe then, we’ll rethink. We’ll do what you want, go where you want.”
We. It’s allwe.
I stare into his golden-flecked hazel eyes, and give him the only answer there is to give.
“I love you.”
“I know you do.”
Yeah, that figures. Even after all this—
Alex smiles. “…And I love you, too.”
Thirty-Five
Alex
Vicky sleeps on the plane after our long conversation, and I lie next to her on the bed, holding her.
She startles awake often, sometimes in panic, only calming when I use a gentle voice. One time, she wakes crying. Another, she wakes and pushes me away, covering only her breasts, despite being completely naked. I have to calm myself before I can calm her, and I wish I’d left Haynes without the mercy of a swift death. Something permanently crippling, or a few more bullets to the stomach.
The flight attendant is disturbed by Vicky’s screaming, but I don’t care. I ignore the looks she gives us as we disembark, except when they’re directed at Vicky. Then I stare at her,cold and angry, until she quails before bowing her head.
Vicky tugs on my arm, and I let her lead me away.
It’s just after lunch when we land at the Costa del Sol airport.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“A little something, perhaps?”
“It’s airport food.”
“Something outside? I can go.”
She tightens her grip on my arm. “No.”
She didn’t eat on the plane, either.
An Audi R8 waits for us, courtesy of the contacts Daniel Easton put me in touch with.
“That’s one way to blend in,” Vicky says dryly.
“Actually, where we’re going, it’s perfect. Anything less ostentatious would stand out a mile.”
She gives me a blistering look and settles into the passenger seat, folding her arms.
Our destination is an hour’s drive away, with views of the Mediterranean for some of it. It’s late March and the sun is out in a blue sky, reflecting off white buildings with terracotta tiled roofs, palm trees lining the roads.
Vicky stares out of the window, silent for most of the journey.
“Is your headache any better?”
“No.”
