Page 63

I swiveled to Christine, who stood by the kitchen island. ‘You got the gist?’

She nodded.

‘Not sure how long I’ll be away, Chris. Whatever it takes till we have her back with us.’

Christine turned to my son.

‘We’ll be fine, Raff, won’t we?’

‘Of course,’ Raff muttered. ‘Dad, go bring back Mum.’

I gripped him fiercely, burying my face in his hair.

‘I’ll fetch her back as fast as I can, shorty.’

‘I know you will, Dad,’ he whispered. ‘Love you.’

‘Love you more.’

Untangling myself from him, I rushed upstairs, changed, packed swiftly, and grabbed my passport.

Downstairs, I hugged Raff one more time and handed Christine one of my credit cards, the keys to the house, and the rental SUV.

‘Keep your phone on for updates; I’ll call as often as I can,’ I told her, thankful she was fantastic at her job and a trusted member of our family.

I lit out, taking an Uber X straight to the airport.

After clearing customs, I waited for my ride.

Within three hours, the label’s private jet roared off the tarmac at Málaga, climbing steeply into the European sky before banking hard toward East Africa.

I sat in the cabin, eyes on the horizon and the encroaching darkness, hoping the woman I loved would hold on till I got to her.

Chapter 12

DEACON

The aircraft tires screeched as we landed on the tarmac, the jolt traveling straight up my spine as I grabbed my pack.

Fog covered Nairobi’s Jomo Kenyatta International Airport as we pulled up to a terminal.

I exited, thanking the captain and cabin crew, and strode towards the concourse.

At the end of the jet bridge stood a young Kenyan man in green cargo pants and a grey fitted sweater.

He appeared muscled and, from the way he stood, had the stance of a soldier.

He held a sign with my name on it.

‘Mr Vega,’ he called out as I approached.

I nodded.

‘I’m Jacob. I’m with International Rescue and your escort through customs, plus driver to the private hangars.’

‘Hey Jacob, good to meet you.’

‘This way, with me.’