by Tiffany Snow
Devon was waiting when I came out of the bathroom.
“How badly were you hurt?” I asked him. “I saw the wound . . .”
“They dug it out and patched me up,” he said. “I didn’t care about that. All I wanted was you. I could have sworn I’d gotten you into the helicopter, but you were gone.”
I stared at him. “She didn’t tell you anything, did she?” I could feel a sinking in my gut.
“Who? Vega? She said you disappeared at the hospital while I was in surgery.” He shrugged, glancing away. “I assumed you were afraid, so you’d gone. But you weren’t here when I returned. Your things were packed, but your luggage remained. I surmised you were still in town. When I informed Vega, she said she’d heard that Levin had you.”
“She’d heard that Levin had me,” I repeated, my hands clenching into fists at her incredible audacity. “Well, yes, I suppose she would’ve heard that, considering she’s the one who gave me to him.”
Devon went still. “What are you saying? What happened, exactly?”
“Ivy?”
I turned immediately at the sound of Ezabell’s voice and hurried over to the bed. She’d woken and was sitting up, rubbing her eyes.
“Good morning,” I said, smiling at her. “You must feel better after that long sleep.”
She nodded. “I’m hungry.”
“Me, too,” I said. “We’ll get something to eat right away.” Glancing behind me, I saw Devon watching us. “This is my friend, Devon,” I told her. “He’s nice. He won’t hurt you.”
Ezabell looked over my shoulder, her expression sober as she took in Devon. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said.
“Of course. It’s right in there.” I showed her the small room and closed the door. My gaze met Devon’s, who lifted an eyebrow in question.
“Levin had her,” I said. “He used her to make me talk. I told him your name and about the Shadow.” Shrugging, I said, “I’m sorry, Devon. I was able to keep quiet while they were hurting me, but I couldn’t let them hurt her.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” he said. “But what are we supposed to do with her?”
“I guess we should find her parents,” I said. “Give her to the police?” My heart ached at that, and I knew I didn’t want to leave Amsterdam until I had seen Ezabell safely returned to her mother. She’d been through enough.
“I can scan her prints and send them off to our database of missing persons,” he offered. “That should speed things up a bit.”
I nodded like that was a good thing, and it was. I just hated that I wouldn’t be with her much longer. We had a bond, she and I, forged in a situation most women were lucky enough not to ever find themselves in.
“We need some clothes for her,” I said.
“I can fix that. The concierge should be able to find something for her to wear.” Devon slid his arm around my waist and pulled me close. I rested against him, and it took me a moment to realize how unusual this was for us—just hugging for the comfort of being together. There was nothing sexual about it. I couldn’t stop touching him, and it seemed he felt the same way, for even when Ezabell came out of the bathroom, he still kept hold of my hand.
“Hello, Ezabell,” Devon said, crouching down so he was on her level. “I’m going to get you and Ivy something to eat and some clean clothes, then we’ll find your mum. Is that all right?”
Ezabell nodded very seriously. “Will there be crêpes?”
“Absolutely,” Devon assured her. I smiled, my fingers combing through her tangles.
“May I see your hand?” Devon asked. “Just for a moment?”
Cautiously she gave him her hand and he pressed each finger firmly onto the face of his cell. I saw a laser scan her prints from inside the glass. It didn’t look like any cell phone I’d ever seen before.
“There,” Devon said. “That’ll help us find your mum and dad.”
Devon left the suite to get us something to eat and I bathed Ezabell. By the time he returned, I’d wrapped her in a much-too-big bathrobe and was carefully combing the tangles from her hair. I wanted to tell Devon what had happened after he’d been shot, but it would have to wait until later. I didn’t want Ezabell traumatized any more than she already was.
“I got a bit of everything,” Devon said as a waiter followed him into the room, rolling a laden cart. The smells wafting from the covered dishes made my mouth start watering immediately. As soon as the waiter had left, Ezabell was up inspecting all the food offerings before her.
“Thanks,” Ezabell said around a mouthful of croissant.
Ravenous, we both dug in with equal gusto. Devon watched us as he ate, a smile on his lips.
The full tummy put Ezabell to sleep and I eyed her hair, knowing I’d have to comb it again. Not that I minded. My mother had combed my hair for me, a long time ago. It was a warm, pleasant memory, so different from what my childhood predominantly had been.
“What are you thinking?” Devon asked me. I was leaning back against him as we sat in the bed, Ezabell huddled asleep on the couch.
I shrugged. “Thinking of my mom, I guess. She had a hard life with my stepdad, but we had some good times, before he came along. And after, too, but those were fewer and fewer until she died.”
“And Ezabell makes you think of your mother,” he guessed.
“Perhaps myself at her age,” I clarified. “I wonder sometimes who I would have been if my life had been different. Circumstances shaped my character and personality, my fears and weaknesses.”
“But also your strengths,” Devon said.
“I haven’t felt strong lately,” I confessed.
“You have strength of will, for one, or you would never have survived the past few days.” Taking my hand, he pressed it between his own. “You have compassion. And empathy. Two qualities I lack, incidentally.”
“That’s not true,” I said, turning to gaze up at him. “You stuck with me when it would have been easier to bail and find someone else.”
His lips twisted. “Self-serving, I’m afraid. You’re too beautiful by far. I believe a Brontë sister said that ‘beauty is generally the most attractive to the worst kinds of men. Therefore, it is likely to entail a great deal of trouble on the possessor.’ ”
“She sounds wise beyond her years,” I said dryly.
Devon laughed softly. “I cannot deny that I am one of those worst kinds of men, and I have brought nothing but trouble into your life. Which is why it’s essential I send you back home as soon as possible.”
Something in his voice alerted me that this wasn’t a usual parting. “What do you mean?” I asked. “You need some time to finish this job? To finish Levin?”
“Amongst other things.”
His phone buzzed, interrupting us. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at it, frowning.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s Ezabell,” he said, glancing to where she still slept on the couch. “They’ve found her parents, who’d filed a missing persons report for her three days ago.”
I was glad for Ezabell and selfishly sad for myself that we’d found them so fast, though it was gratifying to see the joy light her face when I told her.
“I’m sure they’ll be thrilled beyond words to have you back,” I said to her.
The concierge had delivered new clothes for Ezabell and I dressed her, carefully brushing and braiding her long, dark hair before we left the hotel.
We walked hand in hand from the car into the police station where Devon took us. We’d stopped on the way and bought a phone like Devon had originally given me, only I’d programmed my number into it.
“Anytime you need me, you just call,” I told Ezabell, crouching down next to her while Devon explained to the officer behind the desk why we were there.
“Thank you,” she said to me. “You saved me from those bad men.”
“I’m glad I could,” I replied, hugging her again. Her little arms around my neck were tight.
“Hello, Ivy,” the woman standing next to Devon said. “Hi, Ezabell. I’m Sheridan. I’m going to take you to your parents.”
She seemed nice enough. Her English was accented, but I understood her easily. She was smiling and it wasn’t her fault I disliked her on sight, which had a lot more to do with my losing Ezabell than with her.
I held back tears as I forced a smile for Ezabell, giving her another hug before watching her walk away with Sheridan. Devon reached for my hand and I gripped him tightly.
We didn’t say much on the way back to the hotel. Once we were in our room, I sat on the bed, listlessly staring out the window. It had begun to rain.
“I don’t want to leave you,” I said. I could see him in the window’s reflection. He was behind me, packing, but stopped and looked over at me.
“You don’t have a choice.” His words were flat, not to be argued with. “You have blinders on, Ivy,” he said. “Tell me what Levin did to you.”
“Why?” I countered, turning to face him. “So you can feel guilty for it?”
“So I can ensure his death is as painful as what you endured.”
He was absolutely, deadly serious, and I knew he could make good on his threat.
“You’re not why I fell into his hands,” I said. “Vega is. She told me you were dead. If I hadn’t had Reggie’s flash drive—”
“His what?”
“Reggie’s flash drive,” I explained. “When I ran back to him, he gave it to me. He’d told me about it before, that it was his insurance policy because he didn’t trust the Shadow. And he was right not to.
“If I hadn’t had it, she would have had me killed,” I said.
Devon frowned. “Vega is many things, and she can be ruthless, but she doesn’t go about killing people just because the mood strikes her. And as far as she knows, you’re just a civilian. Telling you I was dead would be standard procedure.”
I stiffened at his defense of her. “So what would turning me over to Levin be then? Would that be standard procedure, too? And let’s not forget that she knows I’m anything but ‘just a civilian.’ If she thought that, then why would she have detained me at customs, told me you were married, and wanted to know what I was hiding from her that has kept you so interested in me.”
His gaze sharpened. “She said that?” he asked. “Said you were hiding something?”
“Yes. It’s like she knew about the vaccine, or at least knew I had a secret. And the whole thing about telling me you were married . . . what was that about?”
He hesitated. “Yes, that . . . concerns me.”
“She can’t be trusted, Devon.” Getting up from the chair, I approached him. “She gave me up to Levin and made it quite clear he could do whatever he wanted with me. I thought the Shadow was supposed to be in the business of protecting people. She bargained my life like it was nothing.”
For the first time, it seemed like Devon was hearing me when it came to Vega.
“I know you’re loyal to her,” I said, “but I’m not sure how loyal she is to you.”
“Does it matter?” he replied. “You and I can’t continue. If nothing else, this last week has shown us that.”
“I don’t want to leave you.” It seemed grossly unfair. Devon loved me. I loved him. That should have meant happiness for both of us.
He sighed, and it was a tired, resigned sort of sound. “Darling, it doesn’t matter what we want. Our lives are incompatible. And the longer we drag this out, the higher your mortality rate climbs. The next time might very well be the last time.”
It no doubt will be if Vega has anything to say about it, I thought but didn’t say.
I was quiet for a moment. There was no counterargument to what he was saying, and it made me feel sick to my stomach.
“So is this the end of it then?” I asked. “You’re going to put me on a plane back to America and we’re done?”
“I don’t see any other choice,” Devon said. “Do you?”
I did, but if he was blind to it, then there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him to quit his job, or if it had, he’d discarded the idea.
“You said you loved me,” I reminded him.
“I do,” he said gently, cupping my cheek in his hand. “But that doesn’t matter. The two of us don’t matter, not in the larger scheme of things. The best thing for you is to go back to your life and forget all about me.”
I searched his eyes. “That’s what you want me to do?”
“It’s what I need you to do.”
Semantics. A nuanced difference, but the end result was the same.
“I’m not Kira,” I said. “I’ve survived everything they’ve thrown at me so far. I can take it. I’m tougher than I look.”
His palm was work-roughened rather than smooth, gently abrading my skin as he brushed a thumb along my cheekbone. “Indeed, you are,” he said. “But I don’t want to be the one responsible for breaking you beyond what you can endure.”
“You said we’d go somewhere warm,” I said to Devon. “When this was over, you said you’d take me somewhere warm. I want that. Before you end us, I want that.” I wanted to be somewhere safe and beautiful. Somewhere far away from Amsterdam. “Will you do this one last thing for me?”
Devon’s expression was unreadable. “It’s the very least I owe you, is it not?” he asked rhetorically.
I stiffened, his lack of enthusiasm pricking my pride. “You don’t owe me anything. I was hoping you still wanted some time together. It was your idea originally.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to be with you—”
“Then what?” I snapped. “Both of us could have been killed in the past few days. It’s only by sheer luck that I’m not still back in the red light district, drugged and turning tricks.”
Devon’s hands clenched into fists, and I had a fleeting moment of regret for telling him that part.
“So tell me,” I said, pushing a hand through my hair in exasperation. “Because if you don’t want to go—”
“It’s because I want it too bloody much!”
His outburst shut me up and I stared at him in the charged silence.
Devon turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Do you think I want to let you go?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you want,” I said honestly.
Devon paced a few steps, then turned to face me. “I never thought I’d feel this way again. Not after Kira. And yet . . . I can’t stop. But I can’t change anything either. Why prolong the inevitable for either of us?”
“If what we have is only temporary, then why rush to end it?” I countered.
“Self-preservation, I suppose,” he said quietly.
“Let’s go somewhere,” I pleaded. “Please.”
Devon’s lips twisted. “How can I say no to that?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I stood on the beach, staring out over the water. The waves were rolling in and crashing against the sand. The early morning clouds threatened rain, but I knew it wouldn’t rain for long. It had rained a bit each of the four days we’d been in Kapalua. Located on the northwestern shore of Maui, it was wet there, but I didn’t complain. The result was a lush, tropical setting where our hotel was nestled, perched on top of a steep hill that led to the beach where I now stood.
Since Devon’s part of the mission had been accomplished—the threat the phones had possessed now nullified—nothing prevented him from disappearing off the grid for a while, though I hadn’t asked how long that would be. Levin remained, but was no longer a threat. For now.
The wind whipped my hair, freeing long strands from the braid I’d pulled it into. Devon slid his arms around my waist and pulled me back to rest against him.
“Tell me about your home,” I said to him. “Your real one. You do have a home, don’t you?”
>
There was a slight hesitation. “I do,” he said. “Though I’m hardly there. It’s in London. A three-bedroom flat with the usual amenities.”
“Do you have friends?”
A longer hesitation this time. “No, not really. Not in the sense you mean. I have people I know—people in the business and from varying walks of life—who I consider acquaintances. I have perhaps two friends. People I trust implicitly, who would help me even if it meant putting themselves in danger.”
Yes, I guess friends meant something very different in Devon’s vocabulary than in mine.
“Do you ever get . . . lonely?”
“It’s a lonely profession,” he replied.
I took that as the closest he’d come to saying that yes, he did get lonely.
“How many times have you almost died?”
Devon sighed, his hold tightening on me. “Too many times for me to want to dwell on it.”
“But you’ve saved people’s lives, too,” I said. “Right?”
“I like to think so.”
“What about your family?” I asked. “Do you ever see them?”
“I’ve never met my extended family. I think I have a few cousins on my mother’s side, but I’ve never met them.”
“Why not?”
“They think I’m dead, for one. Informing them otherwise would be quite shocking, I’m afraid.” His jesting tone made the comment sound light, though it was actually a sad thing—his family, the people who might love him, thought he was dead.
“I just thought maybe your family would know the truth,” I said with a shrug.
“No one knows the truth,” Devon said. “Just you.”
Something warm unfurled inside me at that pronouncement. I’d been so vulnerable with Devon in so many ways. He knew all my deepest insecurities and secrets, the dark places in my psyche that I’d allowed no one else to know. It was good to realize he’d let me in, too, even if I hadn’t understood it at the time.
The sun was starting to peek from behind the clouds. It would get up to the mid-eighties today and I was looking forward to another day lying by the pool and looking out over the ocean. I hadn’t had a swimsuit when we’d come here, or any clothes appropriate to the tropical climate. Devon had taken me into the clothing stores at the hotel that stocked solely designer brands.
