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There’s silence for a moment, and I can see Sebastian thinking it over. Then he gives a grim nod.
“You’re right,” he says quietly. “But this is my fight, I won’t let you—”
“Tough,” I cut him off, before he can try and pull something noble and self-sacrificing again. “And it became my fight the minute the bastard tried to blow me to pieces at twenty-thousand feet. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not exactly the type to forgive and forget,” I add with a dark smile.
Sebastian chuckles. “Oh, I’ve learned that the hard way.”
“And Richard’s about to learn it, too.” I say. “So, we’re agreed? No running. Not before we fight.”
Sebastian takes my hand, then nods. “Time to make him pay,” he agrees, pulling me into a hot, searing kiss.
I kiss him back, determination like steel in my veins. Richard better run, because between the two of us?
We know a thing or two about vengeance.
17
AVERY
It’stough to travel under the radar, but we don’t have much of a choice. We might both have top-of-the-line fake IDs now, but Sebastian is still an easily recognizable man who’s wanted by the police across the globe. Not only that, but if we’re going to find a way to expose Richard, we need the element of surprise.
We decide to avoid airports and all the security the goes along with them. Instead, we travel overland by train from Venice, up through Switzerland and France. It takes a couple of days, hiding out in our first-class sleeper carriage, and making good use of the alone time—even if the narrow bunk barely holds Sebastian’s weight, let alone the two of us.
We finally arrive in England in the afternoon, dressed in plain clothes and wearing both hats and sunglasses as we disembark the Eurostar train. “According to the gossip columns, Richard and your mom are planning a big anniversary party this weekend,” I remark, trying to distract myself with the latest news, as we make our way to passport control.
“Uh huh?” Sebastian replies, looking more tense as the line inches forward.
“Kind of tasteless, if you ask me,” I have to add, looking at the grainy newsprint photo of the couple, leaving some restaurant. “They haven’t even found your body, and they’re throwing a big soiree?”
“That’s Richard,” Sebastian says, scowling. “Probably thinks it’s some kind of twisted celebration.”
I wince, falling silent as we reach passport control. My nerves are tangled tightly, but the bored looking man barely glances twice at us, and we make it through without a hitch. But the border agents aren’t the only people I’m worried about. The station concourse is crowded, and it should be easy to blend in, but that also means there are more eyes that could recognize Sebastian. There’s also always a police presence in places like this, and I brace myself for a cry of recognition, or someone glancing our way too long.
We’re trying to get out of here as fast as we can, so I’m keeping my head down and following along behind Seb as he leads me across the busy station concourse toward the exit. When he stops suddenly, I nearly run into him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask frantically as he whips around to face me looking like he’s seen a ghost.
“Old friends of my mother’s, standing at the ticket counter. I don’t think they saw me though.”
He’s ducking down as he explains, his eyes darting around until he grabs my arm and pulls me to a side hallway that leads to the restrooms.
“Well, I guess we’re safe here unless one of them has to take a piss,” I joke, trying to ignore my own panic. I can’t believe our bad luck.
Sebastian says nothing, keeping his attention laser-focused in the direction of the ticket counter. He can’t see it from here, but I know when the couple he’s watching for walk by because he freezes with a deep frown on his face.
But a minute later, he lets out a long exhale. “Okay, I think the coast is clear.”
I follow him out of the hallway, and we return to the main concourse. But we’ve barely made it three steps when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice says. My stomach drops, and I think about making a run for it, before forcing myself to turn with an innocent smile.
“Yes?”
It’s a middle-aged woman, with a bland smile on her face. She’s holding something out to me. “I think you dropped this.”
What?
I’m still frozen, so Sebastian takes it from her. It’s a scarf, one I bought back in Italy. “Thank you,” he says smoothly. “You’re very kind.”
