Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Sara doesn’t blink—I’ve already told her about Nora’s trackers. “All right,” she says. “But only if you get them too. I want to know where you are at all times also.”
I hold her gaze. “It’s a deal.”
I’ll get anything my ptichka wants—as long as she’s content and safe.
“Are you upset that you didn’t get a chance to kill him?” she asks as we’re lying in bed a few hours later. Though we’ve just had sex, I’m stroking her all over, unable to get enough of the sensory pleasure of touching her, of feeling her warm, silky skin under my palms. “I know it was important to you,” she continues as I nuzzle her neck, inhaling the sweet perfume of her hair.
I don’t want to think about Henderson right now, but Sara seems determined to talk about every aspect of what happened. And when I recall how difficult it had been for her to discuss her parents’ deaths, I can’t deny her.
If it helps her process things, I’ll tell her all about how I dream about dismembering Henderson cell by cell—about how the mere mention of his name brings back every terrible moment on the plane.
So I do exactly that—I tell her everything, all about how terrified I’d been that we’d be too late… that I would fail to protect her, like I’d failed Pasha and Tamila. I describe the nightmares I had last night and how I still shake when I think about how close I’d come to losing her.
I tell her how much it kills me that I wasn’t there to confront my enemy, to keep her and our unborn child safe.
She listens, her head resting on my shoulder and her fingers playing with my hair, and when I’m done, she says quietly, “You did keep us safe. It was the move you taught me—lifting my legs to become dead weight when someone’s grabbed you from behind—that helped the three of us defeat those mercenaries. And it was you, Kent, and Esguerra who sent in the guards who killed Henderson.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my arms tightening around her as the scene plays out in my mind as it must’ve happened, with the silk robe and all. A shudder racks my body, and she hugs me back, holding me, reassuring me with her warmth, her aliveness, her strength.
It takes several deep breaths before I can loosen my suffocating hold on her. Still, I keep my arm around her, holding her close. It’ll take me years to recover from that day—decades, even.
That is, assuming I ever recover at all.
“What about his wife?” Sara asks, distracting me from a fantasy where I’m able to travel back in time and strangle Henderson with his own intestines before he gets anywhere near her. “Will you honor your bargain with her?”
My free hand curls into a fist at my side. “The jury is still out on whether she purposefully lured us away, so—”
“No, she didn’t,” Sara interrupts, lifting her head from my shoulder to look at me. “At least I don’t think she did. Henderson really thought we had his daughter; if his wife was in on it, he would’ve known it was all a ploy. And when those men captured us, they said something about there being no sign of you three—as if they were expecting to find you here, and were surprised they didn’t.”
“Ah.” With effort, I unclench my fingers. “That does change things.”
If Bonnie Henderson is truly innocent, I will leave her alone—particularly if she turns over all the evidence on her husband to the FBI, clearing our names.
I want that for Sara. I want to give her back a normal, peaceful life.
Sliding my hand into her hair, I study her heart-shaped face, marveling at its beauty. Her eyes stare into mine, clear and direct, and then she murmurs, “I love you,” and leans in for a tender kiss.
My chest expands with a rush of feeling so intense that it drowns out the lingering darkness. “I love you too, ptichka,” I say softly, and as our lips touch, I know that no matter what the future holds, we’ll conquer it together.
Regardless of how our love was born, it’s now strong enough.
Epilogue
Six Years Later
Sara
“Papa! Papa!”
I look up from my laptop as my five-year-old barrels through the door, his cheeks pink from the cold and his boots tracking snow everywhere. Not noticing me on the couch, he runs straight to Peter in the kitchen, launching his small body at him at full speed.
Grinning, my husband steps away from the birthday cake and catches him in his powerful arms, lifting him to twirl him above his head.
Charlie’s laughing shrieks fill the air, mixing with our dog’s excited barking, and my chest squeezes—as it does every time I see that look on Peter’s darkly handsome face.