Chapter Nineteen
Caroline
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“WE’RE READY TO GO TOMORROW.”Shoving his hands into his pockets, Harper advanced toward the bed.“I leave for The Libération early.The ship departs at eight o’clock in the morning.”
Eight o’clock?
I stared at the electronic clock on the bedside counter, mentally working out the limited number of hours we had left before he headed out on the mission of madness.A part of me still couldn’t believe he’d agreed to go, although I understood his reasons.A larger facet of me couldn’t believe I wasletting himgo, and I repressed the smirk that rose at the thought.
Myallowing himto do something was laughable.Adam Harper would do whatever he liked, just as he always had.
“Okay.”
My reply revealed some of the tension I was trying to hide, although I didn’t know why I’d bothered.He always got the truth from me in the end.
We’d been holed up in the Dutch hotel we were currently in for three whole days since arriving on the outskirts of The Hague, what little clothing we had and Harper’s bag of goodies thrown into the nearby wardrobe.I considered how fortunate we’d been that no one had checked the duffle, but in our extraordinary circumstances and haste to leave, matters like basic security appeared to have been overlooked.For once, our unconventional situation had played in our favor.
The three days at the hotel had largely been spent stuck inside a swanky suite, the officer outside our door ensuring we couldn’t pop out for a stroll around the grounds.
There had been three days of waiting, while alternating between the large bedroom and the so-called living space.Three days of watching the clock crawl by.If I’d thought the time at the hospital had been the limit of my patience, then I’d been very wrong.Hours at the hotel stretched into long and anxious vacuums, when Harper was dragged from one meeting to the next, and transmissions were sent and received between what Jackson believed were Swiss officials and the grimy little prick himself.
If I’d been in a better mood about proceedings, I might have marveled at the irony that whenever I went to the Netherlands, I never got to see or enjoy any of the country.By all accounts, it was beautiful, not that I could confirm or deny the point.As it was, I was far too worked up to notice the paradox.
“Laurent is going to accompany me to The Libération before joining the French military vessel,” Harper explained.“Jackson will approach on his Traditional Values ship, accompanied by a flotilla of God knows how many camera crews.”Harper rolled his eyes.“His messages say he doesn’t want to miss a single angle of my return.”
“I bet.”
I blew out a breath, trying to envision the absolute nightmare all of the scheming would create on the Channel, and not for the first time, strain twisted inside of me at the thought of what Harper was undertaking.I couldn’t decide if I was going to be more nervous being forced to stay on land and watch him leave without me than if I’d had the chance to witness the scene for myself.Both ideas made me equally nauseous.
“I still can’t believe Jackson fell for this plan.”I shook my head.“I mean, a reunion at sea?He must be even more stupid than I thought.”
“Either that, or he has planned such a good welcoming committee for me that he’s not overly concerned.”Harper’s brow furrowed as though he hadn’t intended to say that last part out loud.
“Wait, what do you mean?”I seized on his words at once, my pulse increasing at the new anxiety.
“Nothing.”He sighed, slumping into the seat by the side of the bed.“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
