I can’t see her face—have never seen her face—but I know with a certainty that the figure is Poison.
Why would she essentially save our lives? Shit, I don’t know. Maybe because if the Mwuaji kill us before Poison, she doesn’t get paid. And the Creed will look at our deaths as a failure. Then they will come for her.
So yeah, I don’t know the reason behind her actions, but being from the same world, I can guess. And fuck it. I’m thankful no matter how mercenary.
“No, this way,” I say, veering to the right when she would’ve continued straight.
We’ve been going for at least twenty minutes without stopping, and Eshe has kept up with me, not falling behind or complaining. I can’t even lie, I’m impressed.
“The road back to Boston is this way.” She jabs a finger over her shoulder.
“Yeah, and every Mwuaji soldier is going to be watching that road and the area on either side of it. I’ve arranged another mode of transportation. This way,” I repeat, then take off, leaving her to follow me. Or not. It’s up to her.
Several seconds pass, and then her footsteps pound on the ground behind me. She trusts me. It’s the only reason why she would place her safety in my hands without further follow-up questions or proof. Yeah, I got her down off that fence, but part of me still wants to snatch her up and shake her for being so foolish as to believe me.Me, of all people.
But the other part…
The other part yearns to wrap a hand around the back of her neck and yank her to me, tip her head back, and claim her mouth again.
I do neither.
We push through trees and underbrush, and the loamy smell of the Charles River permeates the air. Soon, we crouch down onthe bank and wait. Minutes later, a thin white light flickers once, twice, three times in quick succession.
“That’s our signal and ride.”
Reaching back, I grab her hand and, still bent down, race as quietly and quickly as possible toward the light. A darker shadow bobs on the water several feet away, and I approach it, tugging Eshe behind me.
“H,” the obscure figure in the canoe softly calls, and raises a hand. He throws his hood back, and Jamari grins at me. “I thought I was going to have to come look for you.”
“Stop calling me that stupid name. And no, you didn’t. You were going to keep your ass in the boat like I told you.”
I let Eshe climb into the canoe first and move to the middle. Then, with a low grunt, I shove the small boat off the bank, wade into the water a little, and follow them into it. The vessel rocks for several moments before settling. Jamari releases an exaggerated sigh, and shaking my head, I yank off my ski mask, pick up an oar, and begin paddling. He does the same.
The half-moon is high and bright in the sky, and we avoid the part of the river illuminated by its pearly glow. Soon, we’ve adopted a smooth rhythm, and we’re skimming across the river. It’s quiet, the only sound the muted dip of our oars hitting the water. We’re not far enough away for me to completely let my guard down, to relax, but for the first time since entering that hidden passageway, we don’t have people with guns on our asses.
I focus on the steady, almost… hypnotic movement. Focus on it and studying the graceful line of Eshe’s back, the tangled mass of curls. At some point, I gave her my shirt to cover her half-naked torso, since I’d only left her in a sports bra up on that fence. And though my shirt swamps her in the overly large material, it can’t hide the slump of her shoulders, the slight bow of her head.
I’ve never witnessed defeat on Eshe. Not even when I walked into my loft earlier tonight. But right now? I may not have seen her wear it, but I recognize it.
My fingers tighten around the oar.
Stay right where you are, muthafuckas. Don’t you move. Don’t trace the line of her spine. Don’t caress the nape of her neck. Don’t you fucking dare stroke those curls.
I briefly close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. When I open them, I meet Jamari’s wide gaze. I give him a flat, baleful stare, and he smiles, then shifts his attention over my shoulder. A few seconds later, I catch the flaring of his eyes, and he looks at me again.
Silently groaning, I grind out, “Don’t do it.”
For the first time, Eshe seems to stir, and she straightens, glancing at Jamari, then over her shoulder at me, faintly frowning.
Jamari cocks his head. “Now, H…”
“No, you—”
Jamari clears his throat, settling the oar across his lap. “Don’t you leave him, Samwise Gamgee. And I don’t mean to.”
Eshe emits a sound that’s somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. Half turning, she faces me, her full, pretty lips forming an O. I stare at them, imagining my dick spreading that small circle wider and wider before I give myself a hard mental shake.
“Did he just…?” Eshe waves a hand toward Jamari.
