“Am I?”
Faina stands and moves around the table until she’s standing in front of me. I gaze at her bare abdomen and the soft curves of muscle around her navel, then I look up at her face. She removes her sunglasses and sets them aside, then she slides into my lap and wraps one arm around my neck.
“Cian. Listen to me. This is a setback but you need to adjust your view, okay? Look at it this way. Why would Hawk go to so much trouble to make it look like he was still in Egypt?”
I shrug one shoulder even as an idea forms in my mind.
“Because he’s scared. He wouldn’t be running and leaving a false trail if he didn’t see us as a threat. But he does, which means he knows we can get to him and he’s trying to throw us off the scent. But we’re not giving up.” She cups my face with her other hand and rubs her thumb along my cheekbone while encouraging me to look her in the eyes.
I do, and a comforting warmth seeps through my soul. “It’s not that I want to give up,” I say gently, caressing her waist. “It’s that now I stand to lose something again.”
“Trust me,” Faina murmurs as her hand caresses down to my jaw. “You’re not going to lose me.”
“You can’t promise me that.”
“Sure I can.” She smiles widely and slides her thumb around the swell of my lower lip. “I know the future.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. And I know Hawk is going to Australia so we’re going to go there too, understand?”
“And if it’s another trick? What if he’s on his way to somewhere completely different?”
“Then we keep looking,” Faina replies honestly. “Because he’s running scared and that’s what’s important.” She leans in and lightly pecks my lips. “So? Are you with me?”
I can’t say no when she’s buttered me up so sweetly, so I kiss her back.
“Fine. Let’s go to Australia.”
28
FAINA
Asixteen-hour flight to Australia pushes me at my limits. Getting tickets and onto the plane was the easy part and I’ve used the last of my favors to ensure that when we land in Australia, we’re able to slip through border patrol.
After that, we’re completely on our own. I have no one else to call, no one else to reach out to. It really will be Cian and me against Hawk and the power he’s amassed during his years. Part of me hopes we don’t find him so that we get more time to plan a strategy, but that kind of luck isn’t on our side.
I gaze at myself in the bathroom mirror, trying to let the drone of the plane engines drown out my thoughts, but it’s not working. My nausea’s getting worse and there’s only so many times I can pass it off as eating something I’m not used to. Glancing down, I slide my hand over my abdomen and try to picture what the baby inside me looks like. Is it still a blob of something? Does it have spindly limbs?
Will I survive long enough to see if it gets my hair and Cian’s eyes?
I should tell him. Keeping this a secret will only last a few more months and then it will become impossible to deny. I’ve kept enough secrets from him at this rate. Running my fingers back and forth over my navel, I look at myself in the mirror once more and try to imagine a life beyond this. A life where Cian and I are raising this child and the only worry is what school we’ll get into.
It feels like a fantasy.
Another wave of cramps steals across my torso and I spin in time to spew up another mouthful of bile into the bathroom, fighting to keep my noises as quiet as I can. Most sound gets buried underneath the drone of the plane engines but I’m not taking any chances. After the last wave passes, I rinse my mouth with water from the tap while trying not to think about where it comes from and leave the bathroom. A few rows down sits Cian with his face buried in a magazine about motorcycles.
“Thinking of getting one?” I ask as I slip back into my seat beside him.
“Hmm?” He glances up and then chuckles. “Oh. No, I’m just using this page to brainstorm.” He flashes me the open page, revealing his attempts at a plan against Hawk. There are multiple scribbled notes ranging from killing him with a sniper bracketed by‘how do I get a sniper?’ to running him down in the street and poisoning him at a dinner.
“Creative.”
“You okay?” His brow furrows as he looks me over. “You’re still sick?”
“I hate flying,” I lie. “It always gives me a funny tummy.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that. Maybe we should have gone a different way.”
