“We’ve got him, sir,” one of the enormous figures says as Sergio is marched outside, arms tied behind him, flanked by men on either side.
“Take him home and prep him for questioning,” Baxter orders, drawing back long enough to lift me, holding me close to his chest as he strides across the road to the waiting car.
“It’s the highway mob,” I say, recovering my voice. “They were—”
“I know,” he says, cradling my head as he deposits me in the back seat.
“Youknow?”I’m shocked that my big discovery was nothing new, then I see the crinkle of his brow. “What?”
Baxter joins me in the rear, pulling me entirely into his lap. “I know because of you.” He points back at my bedsit. “When my men cleared out your belongings, they left behind listening devices and cameras.”
I close my eyes, nodding because that should have been obvious.
“Don’t suppose you could just give me my phone back.” I wave my hands around the scene. “That’d make it just the tiniest bit easier to get in contact if I need to.”
“Typical Millennial. You could ask me for the entire world at the moment and all you want is your phone.”
“Hey, and some avocado toast.” When he collapses into laughter, I pull back far enough to poke him in the side. “And what’s this ‘Millennial’ talk? You’re one, too. Just because you can afford to buy a house—”
“A thousand houses.”
“—doesn’t change your birthright. You’re as self-absorbed as the rest of us.”
“I’m not self-absorbed. I’m absorbed by you.”
“You should try that sentence again. I don’t think it sounded the way you thought it would.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time one of my wondrous declarations came out the wrong way.”
“Says the man who let his daughter propose to me.”
The activity around my rental is clearing. The few remaining men jump into the back of a transit van and pull away, leaving the property looking like nothing happened.
Baxter holds me tighter, his voice full of regret as he says, “I’m sorry for what Andrej did to you. I promised you I’d protect you and yet…” His voice grows so thick he can’t continue, and I snuggle closer, resting my ear against his chest so when he continues, his words send their vibrations into my cheek. “I failed you. I let myself believe the party tonight would be one of the safest places to be in Christchurch instead of making sure you always had someone guarding you. I let you get hurt.”
I unbutton the top of his shirt, just enough to slip my hand inside to feel the full strength of his warm body. The self-recrimination in his voice is hard to hear, especially now the danger is past. “You didn’tletme get hurt. I know you want to control the entire world but at some point, you’re going to have to accept that you don’t.”
“You should’ve had a guard.”
The idea of Yuri is desirable but only in retrospect. I can imagine how much I would have railed against the decision earlier. “If you’d put a bodyguard on me tonight, either I would have banned them from following me into the bathroom—”
“In which case they would have waited outside, stopping anyone entering.”
“Really? Yuri would tackle the wives and daughters of your compatriots to stop them? I don’t think so.”
“He would’ve stopped Andrej.”
“Then he would have found another way to get me. Just because I made it easy—”
“It wasn’t you. None of this was your fault. It was me.”
“It was Andrej, not you.” I take a leaf out of Baxter’s book and put my hand over his mouth. “Shh. He attacked me because I saw him at the rink. If he hadn’t managed it tonight, then he would have done it on another occasion and tonight you’d still be wondering who attacked Sophia. She’s safer now because of it and you already know I have a penchant for sacrificing myself to save your little girl. Why don’t we frame it like that? As a triumph?”
I gingerly pull my hand away, worried by the strange patterns of Baxter’s brow. The moment he’s free to talk, he blurts, “You saw him that night at the rink? That’s why he attacked you?”
“He thought you had him as chief suspect. Me being able to place him at the rink on top of that, must have scared him.” It’s impossible to tell if that news makes Baxter feel better or worse. So many emotions contort his features that they blur together until I can’t read him at all.
Instead of trying, I relax into his body, closing my eyes. Unlike the last time I spent the night scared for my life, there’s no rerun movie playing out the moment I do. Perhaps tomorrow there’ll be repercussions but right now, I’m sleepy and content, even with the throbbing pain from my injuries.
