“And?”
“And I’ve been running it through as many databases as I can access. It would be easier if I could reach Erik, but other than leaving him a few breadcrumbs, I don’t want to reach out and endanger him and Anastasia.”
“And you got a hit?” Brushing my fingers over her shoulder, I point to the screen and she nods.
“Yes. Turns out we’re not the only people looking for Hawk and he was flagged by security at an airport.”
“And you want to follow?”
She looks back up at me and bites her lower lip. “What have we got to lose?”
Her. I could lose her.
The thought is so loud that I’m surprised she didn’t hear it, but the words catch in my throat and all I can do is smile softly. “As long as we’re careful. So… where are we going?”
Faina’s smile widens. “Have you ever been to Egypt?”
17
FAINA
“Ugh, motherfucker.” Hanging up the phone, I flop back on the bed and stare up at the patchwork of cracks spreading across the ceiling.
For two days I’ve been calling every old favor I have to try and get us snuck into Egypt, which means I’ve been talking to people I’d much rather never have spoken to ever again. Erik and Anastasia were a brief option, but contacting them risks alerting Hawk to what we’re up to, but every day we spend trying to find a way into another country is another day Hawk has to get further away from us.
It’ll be worth it in the long run. That’s what I’m telling myself after spending twenty minutes talking to a manic Russian man who is the last awkward piece in my travel plans. Every person and favor I’ve roped into this is rather small but together, it should get Cian and me into Egypt without much hassle.
Assuming everything goes to plan.
“You good?” Cian appears in the doorway with a bag in hand and he kicks the motel room door shut with one foot.
“No.”
“Bad call?”
“Basically.” Sighing dramatically, I pull myself back up into a seated position. “I’m running out of favors, so let’s hope Egypt is our last call.”
“We’re not that lucky,” he scoffs while setting the bag down on the chest of drawers across from the bed. “When do we leave?”
I tap my phone screen to pull up the time. “Six hours, give or take. What’s that?” I eye the bag.
Cian starts to empty it, revealing bottles of water and some fresh clothes. Watching him unpack creates a strange warmth in my chest. If I squint, there’s something domestic about this moment and I like it. I study Cian as he shakes a bottle of water at me then sets it down next to another two on the drawers.
He’s standing a little taller now than when we first reunited. And his smile reaches his eyes, which is a relief. The dead look was scaring me more than I ever wanted to admit. Seeing the man I care so deeply about in so much pain was killing me because there was nothing I could do to help him. Grief is painful and personal, but being here and supporting him with this finally seems like it’s paying off.
And I catch his gaze lingering from time to time which only gives growth to the hope in my heart that our time together has been less than frantic stress-relieving sex and actually means more. Like all the feelings we had for each other last year are still there.
Maybe that’s just a dead-end hope, though.
“You’re staring,” Cian says after a moment, dragging me from my thoughts. “And it’s either because I’m so devilishlyhandsome or something is on your mind.” He smirks that cute, lopsided smirk and my heart flutters.
“Maybe it’s both.”
He scoffs in disbelief and finishes putting the water bottles into the mini fridge, then he leans against the chest of drawers and crosses his ankles while uncapping the last bottle of water. “You gonna elaborate on all these favors you’ve been calling in?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” My phone becomes a distraction as I toss it lightly back and forth between my hands. “I know people who can help in the way we need help.”
“People from your past?” Cian’s dark brow lifts briefly.
