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The stiffening of his body and face was an admonition, reminding her he’d demanded she never thank him.
“But I need to far more than thank you,” she persisted. “For this. For everything you’ve done. And now for taking me—taking us—home.” She shied away from thinking of Alex’s body in the belly of the plane so she could go on. “Especially when I feel how much you’d rather not.”
Sitting back, he moved his hands out of reach, a startled look coming into his eyes. No doubt he was surprised that she picked up on his reluctance.
He only said, “Alex was my friend, Anastasia.”
The barely checked emotions that radiated from him whenever Alex was mentioned hit her full force again. Was that the reason for his reluctance? He hated that they were taking Alex home in a casket, to bury him? Did he feel, like her, that goodbye would feel real only then? Did it hurt him, too?
If it hurt him a fraction of how it hurt her, then it made sense. And it again rewrote everything she’d thought she’d known for the past seven years.
Ivan’s friendship with Alex had lasted as long as their own relationship had. Exactly ten weeks. At the time, she’d believed the two men had shared a deep connection. Then his desertion had forced her to revise her opinion.
Though their liaisons had been brief, Ivan had left a gaping void in both their lives. Each had mourned his loss, had struggled with their own interpretation of its causes.
Alex had been resigned that someone of Ivan’s caliber would surely not find him worthy of more than a passing acquaintance, that he’d been delusional to think they’d built the foundation of a lifelong friendship. As for herself, she thought she’d been nothing but another notch on his bedpost. Why else would he have simply walked away?
But after everything that had happened in the last weeks, after realizing he’d kept such close tabs on them, she was forced to reconsider everything. It was clear there was far more to this whole thing than she’d thought. Far, far more to Ivan. What, she couldn’t even guess at. And if he never told her, she’d never know.
But for now, she had to tell him what Alex hadn’t had the chance to.
“He was your friend, too, Ivan. He never got over your sudden disappearance from his life, yet always treasured the time he had with you.”
It was agony to talk about Alex in the past tense, as she would from now on. And equally painful to reveal an intensely personal secret of his that only she’d known.
But Ivan had to know it. It was about him, and after all he’d done, she couldn’t withhold it from him.
The next moment she wished she had. That look in his eyes as he met hers was filled with unbearable pain. The same look she’d seen before he’d declared he would deliver her and Alex to their family.
What did it all mean? How did his behavior, past and present, add up? Because it simply didn’t.
Or maybe it did. Maybe he felt bad about the way he’d exited their lives, the remorse compounded by what had happened to them, by what he’d been unable to stop. Maybe he was appeasing his guilt by trying to put right as much as he could of this mess.
Not that it mattered what he felt or why he was doing this. For reasons he kept to himself, Ivan was hell-bent on seeing this tragedy to its resolution.
And though having him so near was like a dull scalpel opening old scars and new wounds, she was more grateful than she could ever express. She couldn’t have survived without him. And once they broke the tragic news to their family, only his presence would get her through their grief.
After an oppressive silence, Ivan made no comment on her revelation and answered her original question. “I advise against taking anyone into your confidence about what happened, no matter how tempted you are. Not now, not ever. I’ve erased all evidence of the crime so I could deal with its perpetrators without repercussions. Any knowledge of it outside of us can someday cause untold trouble. I’ve co
nstructed an airtight scenario to be told to the world, starting with your families, and I need you to always be consistent in telling it.”
She nodded, hit again by how sinister this all was, how much larger than anything she’d ever thought she’d encounter in her life.
His eyes filled with approval of her unquestioning acceptance. Then he went on. “You’ll say neither you nor Alex knew which arm of the government recruited you for the top secret project, that all had gone smoothly, that you were supposed to go home when you were involved in a helicopter crash two weeks ago. The pilot died at once, Alex was gravely injured, while you had the least injuries.”
She gave another nod as she absorbed the details that mixed reality with fiction. “How will I explain your role in all this?”
“You’ll say I’m a previous acquaintance you contacted because I’m Dr. Balducci’s partner, who transported you to his facility. But it was those in charge of your mission who didn’t clear you to contact your family before now. You’ll tell the truth, that Antonio operated on both of you, but could only save you, downplaying your injuries so you could be in this condition after two weeks. Part of the misdirection to the culprits is creating a different time line.”
Her head spun at his scenario, what she’d now have to act out for the rest of her life. Not even their parents or Cathy would ever know the truth about how or why Alex died.
He went on. “That all said, I want you to say as little as possible from now on. To start, let me do the explaining.”
Another surge of gratitude swept through her. “I’d prefer that, too. I doubt anyone will question anything you’ll say.”
“If anyone does, or if any authority investigates, I made sure all threads would lead to various government arms that no one would question. I made sure that each agency would have no way of making sure which one you were working for and would assume you were working for one of the others.”
She shook her head in amazement. “How? How did you do all that?”
