by Sara Forbes
And while I'm saying it, I know it to be true. I'm shaking now. What has she done? Am I compromising her safety now by talking to her over a telephone line? She said it was a pay phone though.
"I am at the university. The one you showed me."
I realize, just in time, that she's being careful not to name names. She's better at this game than I am. "Oh, I see. But where are you sleeping?"
"I rented out a student apartment. They were advertised on the bulletin board."
"Uh, number?"
"House 4, apartment 32."
"You didn't sign anything online, did you?"
"No. Cash payment. It was just a couple of guys going on vacation for three weeks."
I know these casual arrangements. Subletting apartments is illegal, so students put up apartment letting ads on student canteen noticeboards. Natasha's too smart to leave a digital footprint anywhere. "Just...just stay there. Don't do anything to call attention to yourself. Are you ok?"
"Yes."
"Are you eating?"
"I buy food at student union shop. They have chocolate croissants. I read in the library. It is nice here."
"Okay," I say carefully. "I know you didn't like where you were, and I'm sorry about that, but you probably can't stay where you are, either. So, don't get too comfortable."
Her sigh is audible.
"When we come and get you, I promise you one thing though. You won't be put somewhere you don't want to stay ever again. You'll stay with me until that point, and we'll get Egan to arrange security at my place. Stay as long as you need to. End of story."
"Really? You would do that?"
"Of course."
"So, I just wait for you?"
"Yes." I click the conversation off. In all the movies you keep the conversation brief so they don't get time to track the call. I didn't keep it that brief but maybe we'll get away with it. I can't believe I'm even thinking like this.
"Was that her?" Martha asks in a hushed whisper. Oliver and Lily's eyes are huge and they edge closer to either side of their mama.
"Yes."
"Do you know where to find her?"
"I do."
"I couldn't help noticing that you said 'when we come and get you.'" Her lips twist into a half smile. "And I don't think you were talking about me."
"I wasn't."
There's a chorus of disappointed "awhs" from Charlie and Lily.
"Sorry kids," I say.
Martha rises and starts collecting the finished dinner plates. "Guess you better go grab him and find that girl."
34
JESS
MARTHA'S RIGHT. I better go find him. No time to lose.
I don't want to scare her kids so I walk calmly out of her house but once I'm out of sight I break into a sprint to my car. As soon as I get inside, I pull out my phone and press his contact.
One ring.
Two rings.
Pick up, pick up!
Three rings.
Four.
Then he picks up. I get a sudden, stupid urge to break off the call. But I tell myself I can't let emotions take over. This isn't about me. This is for Natasha.
"It's me," I tell him before he has a chance to say anything.
"Jess?" he says.
I slam my eyes shut. I'd forgotten the power of a voice. His voice, deep and rich. It's painful to continue. I can't seem to get enough oxygen into my lungs. "Yeah, I—I'm sorry. This isn't about...us. It's the um..." I almost forget to use the code word for a minute, "It's about the house guest."
"My God. What? Tell me!"
"She's OK."
His breath hitches audibly. "Where are you?"
"Um, leaving Martha's."
"Drive to the Platinum Star. I'll meet you in the parking lot."
My heart thumps. He doesn't want me to give details because someone's listening or could be listening. "No, I've a better idea. You meet me there. Remember the brochures I gave her?"
There's a brief pause after which he says, "I do. Are you telling me—?"
"Yes, that's where she is. I'm sure of it. I'm on my way there, no time to lose. Look for house four, apartment thirty-two."
"All right. Jess, but listen—"
With shaking hands, I cut the call and start the ignition. I know he was about to say something else. Give me advice, tell me it's dangerous, all of that. But there's no time. If it's a mission we're working on together, he needs to trust me to do my part, to let me take the lead.
And that's all this is. A mission to find Natasha. I can't let my emotions cloud that.
35
EGAN
I STARE AT THE PHONE after she cuts the call on me. It was hard enough pretending I didn't care so much about her when I thought she was safe. But now that I think she's in danger? It's ripping me apart from the inside.
There's no time to call a full meeting with the guys, so I just call Paul as I'm sprinting to my car. "Jess has found her," I tell him. "She's at her old alma mater."
"Ah." I hear Paul's instant keyboard tapping. "Safe?" he asks.
"Yes, according to Jess. So, I'm on my way there. Let me know if there are any blockades or known hostile elements on my route."
"Checking right now," he murmurs. "Just one small problem, Egan. Your flight to Syria."
"Not for another five hours."
"Is that enough time?"
"It's got to be."
"Hm, but it's a three-hour drive to where you're going at full legal speed, and traffic is heavy right now. Sure you want to take that risk?"
Now that Paul's pointing out the obvious, I'm not sure at all. I rub my jaw. "Christ. Who am I kidding?" It's not enough time to get to Exeter and back to the airport, let alone deposit Natasha somewhere safe.
"But Jess could do it," Paul says.
"No, I have to do it myself."
"Quite the dilemma. Unless you want to leave Natasha where she is until you get back from Syria?"
"No, Paul," I say quietly.
"Well, there is one other option," he drawls.
I'm already thinking it through. The only person within a four-hour radius of the private airfield is Sean. Of course Sean could go to Syria. And he's gagging to do it. It would mean giving him control of the project. Not only that, but a chance at going for leadership and toppling me from my post. Which is what he's always wanted.
Well, I can't have it both ways. I have to choose.
"Egan? Still there?" Paul prompts.
"Yeah, gotta go. I'll call you back with my decision," I tell him.
I close the call and scroll down my list of contacts. Before I can change my mind, I press the contact. When there's an answer after several rings, I find myself saying the five words I never thought I'd ever utter.
"Sean, I need your help."
36
JESS
AFTER A FOUR-HOUR DRIVE south-west, I've arrived at my old university campus just outside the ancient city of Exeter. It's dark, but the atmosphere is Friday night convivial—students with backpacks and ring-binders huddle about in groups, talking boisterously. I get a sharp pang for a life that might have been. Then I snap out of it and head down along a long red-brick building, searching for her apartment number.
When I reach the house number 4, I rap on the heavy wooden door that’s glistening in the rain. The door opens wide and a group of students pours out. Looks like I came at just the right time. I slip in past them and none of them questions me or even spares me a second glance. The lack of security is good for me right now, but could also be very bad.
I skitter up the stairs to the next floor. A sign points to apartments 32-36 on the left. Glancing over my shoulder in both directions, I rap softly on the door of 32. "Natasha?" I call out.
I hear padding across the floorboards.
The door opens. It's her all right. Dark rings bloom under her eyes, her cheeks are pinched, but her expression is alight with a goofy smile. "Jess!"
"Oh my God, Natasha." I pull her in fo
r a hug. My fingers close over the sharp edges of her shoulders and I wince. This girl needs food. Good home-cooked food. Martha-style food. But first things first, she needs security.
"Egan's on his way, too," I say, drawing back to look at her.
She scowls. "But he—"
"Don't argue. Have you noticed anything here? Anyone following you?"
"No."
That doesn't mean much. I go to the window and peer out. She probably wouldn't see these professionals even if she was looking out for them. They're trained to be invisible.
I sit in a chair beside the window while Natasha sits on the bed. "I'm sorry about all this," she says, studying the threadbare carpet.
"Never mind all that, Natasha. I have a plan," I say. "What did you last wear when you went out?"
She points to the burgundy leather jacket hanging off a hook on the door.
"Did you wear your baker boy hat?" I point to the red hat lying on the dresser.
"Yes."
"Good." I pull on her jacket.
She surveys me critically. "It's tight on you."
"That's because I'm a normal size." I slam on the hat. It's roomy which is good—I can tuck my hair under it. "But hey, your head's bigger than mine. So there."
She smiles. "Maybe I'm brainier."
"That's definitely possible," I murmur. I've no idea if my crazy-ass plan is going to work.
"Oh hey," I say, fishing the gold chain out of my pocket and handing it to her. "I think you forgot this."
Her bony fingers close over it. "Thanks," she whispers.
"It worked," I say.
She nods.
We share a smile. If nothing else, she must now realize that she's important to me, that she's not alone in this world.
There's a soft rap on the door. Three fast knocks followed by two slow ones.
Her eyes widen. "That's him! It's our signal."
"Sure?" I whisper.
She nods emphatically.
"Well, just in case, hide in the closet over there."
She scrambles in.
My limbs feel strangely heavy as cross the room to the door. I haven't seen Egan in days, very long days that stretched in hellish directions, making me examine parts of me I never wanted to revisit, making me question everything about myself. Part of me hadn't banked on ever seeing him again. In the rush to get to Natasha, I didn't have time to search my heart for my feelings on this. And then I called him out of sheer instinct.
When I open the door, his tall, broad-shouldered figure fills the doorway. Our gazes lock in a kind of slow-motion shock. Neither of us speaks. A wave of relief mixed with joy rolls over me.
Rain glistens on his face. "You're okay! What are you wearing? Isn't that—?"
"Come in, quickly," I urge, motioning for him to pass by me. It's all I can do to resist pulling him in by the arm.
I shut the door and lock it behind him.
Natasha tumbles out of the closet. "Egan!" she squeals. Then to my complete and utter surprise, she launches herself at him and he gives her a big bear hug. Over her shoulder, he's looking at me.
Where's my hug?
He then disengages, his gaze swallowing me whole. "Jess..."
He can't seem to finish.
I nod rapidly. "Thanks for coming," I blurt. "We have to move it here."
"What all do you know?"
"Nothing, apart from the fact that this place is creeping me out and we need to go," I say.
"Then we have to assume they're onto us," Egan says.
I nod. "Yup. And I have a plan. I'll pretend to be Natasha and walk over to the library. Hence this jacket and cap. It's less than a minute's walk from the main door below. I have an old lifetime ID to get in. They won't have IDs, so they'll be stuck waiting outside the library for me to come out again. Meanwhile you sneak out with Natasha and bring her somewhere safe in your car."
He's nodding, but says, "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."
"So, you have a better plan?"
He sighs. "No."
"Great," I say. "This is what we're doing then."
He groans. "How long does the library stay open?"
"Until ten. That'll give you a chance to bring her back to the Platinum Star."
Natasha groans softly.
"No. I'll bring her somewhere safe in Exeter and come back and get you just before ten."
I nod. I accept this because I'm scared shitless of coming out of the library with these unknown thugs watching out for me.
He sighs. "I really don't like this."
I laugh. "I'm not thrilled either."
"Be careful."
"You too."
We exchange tight smiles, and I get the sense that our impasse is broken, replaced by a strange awkwardness.
I deliberately avoid his gaze as I march to the door and close it behind me. My stomach is churning and I don't know whether it's the situation or him that's making me lose my cool. Probably a mix of both.
Outside, in the cold, with Natasha's cap dipped below my eyes, I force my feet to tread normally, slowly even, across the cobble-stoned courtyard to the library, the way Natasha would. She has this light-footed, bouncy way of walking and I try my best to imitate that.
I grip her large purse tightly under my arm and hunch my face inside the jacket as much as possible. I don't hear or see anyone following me but in this drizzly darkness it's easy to hide. I make a beeline for the library building.
At the entrance desk, I show my lifetime membership ID at the security desk. There's a tense moment as the lady on duty gives the card a curious glance. It is quite old, but her card reader accepts it without a murmur. I progress through the turnstile.
When I'm through, I flick my gaze back. Two heavyset men, too old to be students, dressed in dark clothes are loitering outside, smoking a cigarette. It's got to be them. I guess they're trained to lay in wait until closing time.
I settle down at a desk that's not in the line of vision of anyone looking through the windows. There's a pile of anatomy books stacked up on the scratched mahogany surface. I idly take the topmost one off and with shaking fingers, start perusing it, not seeing the words, just hoping I look like a normal student.
My job now is just to sit and be quiet...until closing time which is 10p.m.—three hours away. This will not be easy for me. All I can do is beg a higher power to take care of Egan and Natasha for me so that this dreadful night can be over.
I have plenty of time to think, and I know who I'll be thinking of. I pray he manages to get Natasha to safety and then comes back to get me.
37
JESS
THIRTY MINUTES BEFORE the library's closing time, I head to the bathroom and take off the hat and jacket and stuff them into Natasha's bag. I shake out my hair so it's big and shaggy, as different as possible to Natasha's lank, blonde mane. Then I loiter by the exit and casually join a group of students passing by on their way out, smiling and nodding at their conversation about some banking scandal.
Sure enough, the two darkly-clad goons are still outside, sitting on the wall to the left of the entrance. They glance over at our group but they don't look twice.
I'm shaking by the time I cross the square. I do a detour, turning left instead of right, and going around the back of the student residences. It adds another couple of minutes onto my journey but it's worth it. I run the last few feet into student house number 4.
I push the main door. It's open, so I slip inside. Just as I'm about to let out a sigh of relief, a pair of hands lands heavily on my shoulders and I'm tugged off to the side.
My scream is muffled by a strong, warm hand covering my mouth. I gaze up in terror at the face of the assailant.
It's Egan.
I pull his hand off my mouth "Holy crap, you scared me!"
"Sorry. Are you OK?" he says. "I just got here."
"I'm fine."
"Were you followed?"
"No, I think they're still there, waiting for the stragglers t
o come out of the library. It's two guys."
Egan's hands have moved to my waist, just resting there. It feels completely right and natural. "Those were the longest three hours of my life," he says.
I look deep into his eyes. "I hope you sectioned them off into groups of five minutes?"
"And made it even more tortuous, yeah right." He grins. And I melt. His expression is a mix of stricken, serious, and smitten. And I'm pretty sure I've got a similar expression on my face,
He moves in closer. And I know what's coming next and every cell of me wants it. He dips his head and his lips meet mine, warm and tender. This kiss is against all the rules, and yet it's so completely right.
After some moments, we pull back.
"Not the right time for this," I say.
"True. Let's get the hell out of this place. I'm parked near the back entrance." He takes me by the hand and we dash across the hallway to the back door.
My heart is pounding as we jump in his car, buckle in, and drive with painfully normal speed out the university parking gates. My pulse is still going like a jackhammer even when we put some distance between us and the university and nobody seems to be tailing.
"Where is she?" I ask at the first traffic light.
"Guess."
"No. She hates it there."
He chuckles softly. "I beg to differ; she has a whole new appreciation for it."
And I have a whole new appreciation for you.
I think it, but I don't say it.
"But how?" I ask. "It's more than three hours away."
"I got help. Liam was in London driving Sean to the airport and he intercepted us half way. Then I came back to get you."
I could ask him a whole slew of questions about Liam and Sean. Instead, I spend the next two hours silently watching him drive, letting my adrenaline levels simmer down to normal. Sitting here with him in the darkness with the lights of London traffic whizzing by outside the window, I feel safe and cherished. I've got some of the answers I needed. I've got the answer to the most important question.
With Egan, I've met my match, that's what he is. All my previous encounters with men have been bitter power struggles—either he got the upper hand and crushed me, or I did, and disregarded the man. But with Egan, we have a healthy tug-of-war where either of us could win. I'm free to assert myself, but I also respect him and his ideas. We've both made mistakes, but we've come back together because we will both fight for the things we care about. And now I know he does care about Natasha, and always did. Deeply. I was too quick to decide he didn't, even in face of evidence to the contrary. Shame on me.
