Not now.
She waves at her co-workers. I see her bend down, reaching for something under the counter.
“Motherfucker!” I hear her yell and, to my delight, I see the two top buttons on her blouse fly off. No one else notices but me, and I can’t help but smile. I can see the hint of a pink bra below the swell of her cleavage. My groin twitches.
Pervert.
She leaves, passing right by me without seeing me before exiting through the doors. She continues walking out the door and down the driveway.
I follow.
I expect her to walk to her apartment—one of the condos the hotel reserves for employees—but instead, she continues walking down the dirt path leading to the beach.
God dammit.
I decide to get a better vantage point, behind the jetty. This way, I can see the entire beach and I can have a clear view of Nina. I quickly walk around the jetty, positioning myself behind one of the boulders. She sits down and sets her purse on the bench. She looks so relaxed now that she’s off work. Just as I’m about to sit down, my cell phone vibrates. Sandler.
“Hi,” I say quickly. My eyes don’t leave Nina.
“What the hell are you doing, Adler?”
“Bernstein isn’t taking this seriously. I can’t find him. He’s probably sipping mojitos at the hotel bar—so I took over Nina Cosway’s watch.”
“You have another job, one that doesn’t involve conspiracy theories and Henry Cosway’s daughter.” His words echo Bernstein’s.
“You said it yourself. My father is here. Why do you think he’s here, Sandler? The warm weather? The beach? Think again.”
“If she sees you, she could blow our whole cover.”
I shake my head. “She won’t see me. I’m just keeping an eye on her from afar.”
“Good. And don’t you dare confront your father. You would ruin everything—your whole career. Got it?”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Get back to your post as soon as possible. You have a station to run.”
“Yep. Will do.”
He hangs up without another word. How did he know I was here? I swear, the man has eyes and ears everywhere.
Before I can contemplate that further, I feel the pressure of cold metal on the back of my neck. Hackles raised, my whole body goes cold. I pocket my phone and start to turn slowly, but a strong arm holds my shoulder in place.
“Hello, son,” my father says. The effect his voice has is impressive. Two years of vigorous, Navy SEAL-style training… Nine years in the field facing terrorists in the face… and my father’s voice is what weakens my knees? Also, how does he know it’s me? It’s been seventeen years…
“Hello, father,” I say, my voice weak. “How’d you find me?”
“I was locked up for seventeen years, Benjamin, but upon my release, imagine my surprise to find my son was alive and well in Puerto Rico. Strange to be calling you Benjamin… last I heard, you were going by the name of Frederick Graves.”
I stiffen. “Yeah, well, I decided to change it back when I started with—” I go quiet. No use in giving him more information. The fucker must’ve had his ways… how did he find me? How did he find Nina? How did he know I used to go by Fred?
“The CIA,” he finishes, and I can feel the sneer on his lips. “Henry Cosway’s doing, no doubt.” I don’t say anything as he digs the knife into the flesh on the back of my neck. I don’t utter a word. I’ve been reduced to a boy again, being scolded by his father…
“Fuck you,” I whisper. “Don’t you fucking touch her,” I add, referring to Nina. My voice is shaking.
Only him…
He laughs, a quiet, resounding laugh. It sends shivers down my spine. “Who, Nina? The daughter of the man I killed? I’m going to kill that bitch. And then I’m going to kill you, Benjamin.”
“I knew you did it,” I say, sending spit flying. “I knew you killed Henry.” I want to turn. I want to hurt him. I want to rip his fucking throat out. However, I find myself weakened, brought back into the body of my thirteen-year-old self. I’m scared of him. Still, to this day. And his voice… it resounds in my head, repeating every word he used to call me.
Useless.
Worthless.
Piece of shit.
The fear of him finding my candy stash.
The fear of him killing me before I killed him.
The vengeance and rage he must’ve felt to run Henry and Nina off the road…
Nina.
I’ve made my choice. It’s time to put my training to use, and my feelings aside.
Pretend it’s a job.
Quickly, I turn and knock the knife out of his hand. I’ve stunned him—and age is not on his side. He may have spent the better part of sixteen years in prison, learning all there is to know about fighting, but I have youth and agility training on my side. In half a second, I have the knife and my father’s hands bound behind him. He grunts loudly, trying to free himself.
He is just a man, and I will kill him.
I drag him away, pulling him onto the beach by the collar. Sandler’s voice pops into my head. Don’t you dare confront your father. Too late. He confronted me. I’ve never gone against Sandler’s word. I never thought I’d need to. Until now.
I let him go, shoving him forward, and he stumbles before facing me. I’m taller than him—by at least six inches. His once-dark hair is now grey, and his facial muscles are sagging. He’s heavier—slower. Everything comes back to me as my eyes find his. The first thirteen years of my life.
The shame.
The fear.
The remorse.
Hiding from him.
He was the reason I had to leave everything behind. He was the reason I had to leave Nina behind.
Without thinking, I flick the knife open and plunge it into his abdomen. There’s a second of shock that passes across his face, and then anger. But he doesn’t fight back. Piece of shit. Not the second time. Worthless. Or the third time. Useless.
My father’s blood begins to drip down my hands, and I let him go, facedown into the sand. I don’t feel anything. This is a job. All those years I dreamt of killing him, and now it’s done…
My head snaps up.
Nina.
Her eyes catch mine, a shadow of fear passing over her face. Sandler will not be pleased that I have a witness. He hates the rules more than I do, but even he agrees, she must be taken out. If she tells anyone, our cover—the whole reason we’re here—is blown.
She, like my father, needs to be eliminated. A complication. Cut and dry. Just like the rest. The woman needs to be silenced. She’s not Nina. She’s just a woman on a beach.
The adrenaline from my previous action fuels my body as I run after her.
My legs carry me quickly down the path. I see her zig-zagging, her shoes flying…
She trips, and I close the distance between us. Wrapping my arms around her with one hand on her throat, I panic, looking around.
“Don’t move,” I say sternly. If she blows this, I am dead.
She starts to shake and, for a second, I feel nothing but contrition. Just a second of remorse. I should let her go. Release my hands, watch her run away wildly, and then get the fuck out of here.
I should do that, but I don’t.
I have one job. There are rules, and there are no exceptions to those rules. It doesn’t matter how soft her skin is, or how sweet her hair smells.
I have to figure out a way to kill the one person I ever loved.
N I N E T E E N
Nina—Present
Isla Culebrita, Puerto Rico
“YOU WERE SAVING my life,” I whisper, watching him with a hand under my chin. “But you tried to kill me.”
He smiles. Why is he smiling? “I was trained to kill, Nina—to rid myself of all personal feelings. Like I said before, you were a witness. If you’d gotten away, you would’ve blown our whole cover in San Juan—it would’ve put the whole station in danger. It’s just protocol
. I’ve done it at least fifty times. So imagine my surprise when I find the one person I can’t kill is you.”
I snort. “I’m flattered.”
He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
I lean back in the bed, against the cold, stone wall. I cross my arms and study him. “Okay, so you didn’t kill me. Thank you for sparing me. Really.”
He mimics my body language by leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. He runs a hand across his lips. “No problem. Though technically you’re not off the hook yet.” He laughs.
My lips part. “Benjamin Adler, are you making a joke?”
He scrunches his eyebrows together. “I do know how to joke you know,” he says, feigning annoyance. His eyes are bright again—his face smooth.
“Mmmkay,” I tease, sitting up straight. “So, why did your dad want to kill me?” The cheerfulness disappears. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair. I train my eyes on his. “Ben…” I urge, sensing his unease.
“He knows your dad helped me escape. And while Henry succeeded in keeping my whereabouts hidden, he never thought about himself.”
I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. “It was your dad in the truck that day,” I whisper.
Ben nods. “I believe it was, but it was never proven. He mentioned something when he was sentenced. He said that while he couldn’t go after Henry, he would find you when he was released. Again, he didn’t name any names, but I knew he was talking about you.”
I shake my head and look down at my feet. This whole thing has somehow become so convoluted and fucked up. Ben’s dad was the catalyst. This whole time, I never knew. But my dad knew. He knew up until the last moment. Then again, he always knew more than he let on. It was only recently that I found out about his job. It doesn’t surprise me that Ben followed in his footsteps.
“I’m sorry,” Ben says, clearing his throat. “I’m so sorry for everything, Nina. It was my fault. Everything. I would give anything to go back and change that night. I would’ve murdered him then, or called the police… something. Your dad would still be alive, and I wouldn’t have missed seventeen years of your life. I’d give anything to get those years back.”
His words cause my chest to break open, searing my heart with warmth. “I know. It’s not your fault.”
In one swift movement, he leans forward, taking my hands in his. The sudden contact startles me, and I pull away. My reaction pacifies his passion. He clears his throat and scoots a few inches away. “I wish I’d done it all differently. Trust me.”
I look up at him through my lashes. I don’t think I’ve been this close to him yet. At least, not in a way in which I can scrutinize him unabashedly. His skin is rough, splattered with faded freckles, and his beard is long overgrown. I can’t help but stare a little too long at his pale, turquoise eyes. He looks almost feral; wild and ferocious, yet gentle at the same time.
It’s his eyes. No matter how many scars and burdens he carries, his eyes will always be benevolent.
“Do you understand why I don’t want to leave just yet?” I whisper.
“Yeah. I understand.” He flicks his eyes downwards, clearing his throat. We sit in silence for a minute. I’m still digesting his words when he interrupts my thoughts. “I should make dinner soon.”
I nod, shaking off the emotions coursing through me. The sun has long since dipped below the horizon, and all that’s left is a deep, navy blue. I start to climb off the bed, and Ben reaches his hand out.
I take it, and he pulls me to a standing position in one fell swoop. My knees are wobbly from sitting for so long. I stumble and he catches me by the waist, his warm hand digging into the fleshy part of my abdomen. I expect him to release me quickly, but instead, he pulls me in tighter, ever so subtly, and I feel my whole body erupt in flames.
For whatever reason, that small movement sends awareness coursing through me. He pulls me even closer, into a hug. A hug! His hands meet at the small of my back, burning me on the spot where they rest, causing me to become hyper-aware of our contact. His torso is solid, and I can hear his ragged breathing. I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes.
As he holds me, I realize that everything is starting to feel hot. I’m more aware than ever of being braless. My nipples harden against him, and I feel the warmth pool between my thighs. I can hear his heart beating erratically. He lowers his hands just an inch, and my whole body explodes. I pull away, practically purring. While I don’t feel the same rush of guilt that I felt the day I had the fever, I do feel… weird. Knowing it’s Ben, and we’re… adults. Two consenting adults, stuck together on a deserted island. I don’t know why I’m just now realizing that.
When I dare to look up from my place a foot away, his eyes are hooded, pupils dilated. I can tell whatever kind of moment we just shared affected him, too.
“Do you need help making dinner?” I ask, my voice weak.
He shakes his head and laughs, looking relieved, like he’s releasing all of the tension from his body. “Nah. It’s just defrosting some bread and heating up some soup. Not exactly gourmet.”
I smile. “I happen to have excellent microwaving skills. Want me to show you?”
He looks at me uncertainly before nodding and silently turning. I follow him out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the cellar. I haven’t been down here yet, so I’m excited to see something new.
That’s sad. The thought of a cellar excites me. Is this what my life looks like now? Swim, eat, pee, bed, cellar. Even more terrifying, it doesn’t scare me nearly as much as it should, knowing Ben is here with me.
When we get down into the dingy room, I gasp. “There’s enough food to last years,” I say, suddenly developing goosebumps. I think of the first night. How long would he have kept me here? How long did he plan on staying after I was gone?
“Maybe not years, but for a few months, yeah.”
I trace a finger along the cans. There’s quite an assortment—chicken noodle, split pea, tomato, minestrone, lentil, chili, clam chowder, and that wasn’t including the canned fruits and vegetables. There’s another shelf with several large bags of rice, oatmeal, and evaporated milk. I glance over to where he’s standing. He opens a large standalone freezer the size of a ping-pong table and pulls out two bread rolls. He walks over to the microwave.
“Voila. Powered by a small solar generator,” he says, watching me with a smirk.
I lean against one of the walls as he dumps the contents of two cans into two plastic bowls. Then he microwaves them. I want to say something about BPA, but I don’t have the heart to insult his methods. After they’re done heating, he grabs a tray and we walk upstairs together. We sit down in our usual spot on the steps, overlooking the beach.
Neither of us says anything as we eat. It’s a comfortable silence, broken only when our spoons scrape the plastic. When I’m finished, I set my bowl down and turn to look at him. I’m thinking about what he said earlier—about watching Disney movies when we were younger.
“Do you remember when we used to watch The Hunchback of Notre Dame in my basement?”
He smiles. “Which time?” His cheekbones give way to small dimples beneath them, and I can’t help but be enamored with how handsome Benny Adler turned out to be.
“There was one time… I think we were in sixth or seventh grade? You were over for the weekend,” I say, eyeing him cautiously. He was over at our house a lot that last year. “My dad had made us the biggest bowl of popcorn I’d ever seen, and he’d gotten you Reese’s Pieces to eat with it. Remember that? It was your favorite combination.”
Something washes over his face. Nostalgia, maybe?
I continue. “Anyway, we were eating the popcorn, and you were sprinkling the Reese’s Pieces into your pile, waiting for them to melt. I remember looking over at you and thinking about how much I loved you. How happy I was. I thought it was so disgusting when you’d eat the popcorn with melted chocolate all over it. But you know what? I tried it a few years ago, and it’s fucki
ng delicious.” I laugh, and so does he. “Anyway, when the credits began to roll, I looked over again and you were asleep. So peaceful. Without a care in the world. I doubt you ever slept that well at your house.” Ben’s breath hitches. He swallows, and I follow the movement down his throat. I feel my eyes begin to well with tears. “I loved you so much. After you died, I worried I hadn’t told you enough; how much you meant to me. It kept me awake for months. I would think: Did Benny know how much I cared about him? Did I tell him enough?”
“Nina…” His voice breaks.
“My point is, in case we never see each other again after this whole ordeal, now you know. And maybe this time, I won’t have to lose sleep wondering if you knew, because I just told you.”
He swallows, his eyes burning into mine, searching for some sort of common ground. “I knew. I could feel it. For years I felt the love you gave me. And I loved you too. I hope you know that. You made my life manageable. I never, not once, stopped thinking about you.”
I don’t look away. I can’t. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes convey everything we’re feeling. Everything we shouldn’t be feeling. That’s the thing, being with Ben… we’re a weird, little unit. That’s why I refuse to leave him. Ever since day one, I’ve been bound to him somehow, whether it be literally bound in chains or emotionally bound… we’re like a pair of heartstrings that were once connected and are now trying to find their way back to each other. My dad once said that to me, a couple of days after Benny’s death. He told me we would never be disconnected. He understood our bond.
Now, I realize, we’re more connected than ever.
He stands, and I try to shake the feelings of homesickness away. “We should get some sleep,” he says, reaching his hand down for me to take it.
“Okay.” I take his hand, and he pulls me up. This time, he’s careful not to pull too hard. Like me, he’s learnt that close proximity makes this whole situation harder. I’m grateful he didn’t let us have another moment. I recall his words.
That Which Binds Us Page 12
