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“No problem. I’m just sitting here anyway. Shan’s driving.”
“Speaking of, I’m guessing you’re heading south?”
“Yeah.” I flicked a quick look at the GPS. “We have about nine hours to the Spanish border, and then I’m assuming we’re flying out of Barcelona. I haven’t booked tickets yet.”
“Don’t. Do you still have your place in Andorra?”
That threw me a little. “Uh, yeah? Why?”
Evidently, Finn was already on board and took over. “Go there instead. Lie low for a while. I’m sending the crew in Italy to do the same in Ireland, and we’re gonna be careful here at home too. Focus will be on making sure we’ve gotten rid of all the Avellinos once and for all.”
“We wanna keep the authorities at bay too,” Eric added. “I’m checking the headlines in France, and there’s going to be a police conference about a murder scene in Étretat.”
“I wonder what that’s about,” I mused.
Finn chuckled.
“It would be nice if you got out of the country before that investigation really kicks in,” Eric told me.
“We’re on it,” I replied. “We gotta stop for gas soon, but after that, we’ll drive nonstop.”
“Perfect. We’ll do a status update in a few hours,” Finn instructed. “Get cracking on those documents.”
“Yessir.” We ended the call, and I blew out a big breath and scrubbed a hand over my face. “Jesus fuck, I need to land.”
This had been my existence throughout the war last year. The stress had been so forceful, and so much had happened, that my brain had blocked certain things. I’d stopped processing elements of my day that a part of my mind decided weren’t significant. It was how I’d forgotten Luna’s birthday, how I’d been unable to remember some locations—colors disappeared, I stopped registering scents, social cues and tones ceased to exist. I’d picked up on instructions, plans, everything work-related, and not much else. I hadn’t been able to taste food.
I felt similar right now, and I loathed it.
“This is what we’re gonna do,” Shan said, lifting his arm. I was quick to scoot closer and plaster myself to him. “We’ll stop at the next gas station once we’re past Paris. We’ll get food, snacks for my boy, drinks, we’ll freshen up, and then we’ll get back on the road and talk through everything. How does that sound?”
It sounded good. I only needed a few moments to anchor myself, and Shan was the best way to get there.
Nothing stitched me back together like Shannon pulling the strings.
We pulled an all-nighter on the road, and he structured everything for me, from getting the documents to Eric, to keeping myself updated on the police investigation in Étretat. My whole world fit into this SUV. It was just Shan and me, a truckload of snacks, sodas and energy drinks, soft music in the background, and his strong, warm, easy-to-obey voice.
It felt incredible to sink back into vacation mode too. Shan and I had been around long enough to know that “lie low for a while” never meant a few days. It ranged between a few weeks and a couple months most of the time, sometimes longer than that.
After finishing a smoke, I snuck under Shan’s arm again and kicked up my feet in the corner of the dash. I could probably sleep like this, and I was extra thankful for the bench seat tonight. I was also thankful I’d changed into sweats and a hoodie at the gas stop, ’cause it was time to get comfy.
“I’ve actually never been to Andorra.” He draped his arm down my chest and slipped a hand underneath my tee. Apparently he wanted to feel up my abs.
“You’ll love it,” I yawned. “I’ve always gone there to be alone and clear my head. It’s my sanctuary. Mountains everywhere, a melting pot of different cultures, fantastic shopping.”
It was possible I couldn’t keep from rambling about it to Shan.
My small one-bedroom apartment, for instance, in a chalet-style type building—that could’ve been stolen right from the Swiss Alps—in the center of the capital. The building next to mine was a hotel designed like a hacienda. The church down the street was all stone, and high-end fashion brands had opened up their stores in contemporary structures. It was a shopping haven all year-round, a popular ski resort in the winter, a cyclist’s paradise and workout from hell in the spring and summer, and always stunning.
“I look forward to you showing me around,” he murmured and kissed the top of my head. “I hope there’s good food too, because I miss our dinner dates.”
I smiled up at him.
He took himself a quick kiss before returning his attention to the dark highway. “I forgot to ask earlier, by the way. What was damaged back home? We didn’t sustain any injuries, correct?”
I winced and cursed internally.
Why did he have to go there? Couldn’t we move on?
