“Nomar, she needs you. She’s always needed you,” Ford says quietly. “For three years, she’s done everything she can to get you to talk to her. To get you to come home. And you’ve been so wrapped up in your fuckingmission, you’ve ignored what’s right in front of you.”
“There’snothingright in front of me. Nothing but death, blood, and darkness. She doesn’t need that in her life, and I don’t need the constant reminder of what I could have had…”
My knees hit the floor. If I’d stayed… If I’d told Pritchard and the President to go fuck themselves, maybe I’d still be a part of her life. Or…more.
“Youchoseto become the Viper, man. No one forced you. I know why you did it, but you could have stopped any time. You could have come home.” Ford’s heavy sigh carries over the crackly connection. “And if you think Lisette needs—or wants—a guy who shits unicorns and rainbows, you’re a fucking idiot. She needs someone who understands what she went through. Someone to love her. To love Mateen. He builds model robots now. Wants to be an astronaut. Or an engineer. He plays soccer. He’s good, too. Averaged two goals a match in summer league.”
I can’t get up. Can’t finish wiping down the room. Can’t move. For three years, I’ve shoved what could have been down so deep, only my dreams could touch it. And with all the shit I’ve done? I’ve ruined any chance we could be together.
“Even if you’re right,” I manage over the grapefruit-sized lump in my throat, “I shut her out. Ignored every one of her messages. I left heralone. And it broke my fucking heart. There’s no coming back from that.”
Rage crawls up my spine at his chuckle.
“You think this is funny, asshole? Fuck you.”
“I think you should remember who you’re talking to. When Joey refused to see me after she was…hurt, I wrote her a letter. Every two weeks. She returned them all. Unread. Until we broke her out of Faruk’s compound. I’d saved them for twenty fucking years because I always knew. She was it for me.
“Life is full of broken things, Nomar. Doesn’t mean you can’t put them back together. And hell… How many times did we use chem lights in Iraq? You have to snap ‘em to make ‘em work.”
“I’m not a fucking glow stick.”
“No, you’re not,” he says, more laughter coloring his tone. “But maybe…that broken heart can be put back together. All you have to do is try. Get to the airfield ASAP. You’ll be in Toulouse by midnight.”
I push to my feet, staring around the small, dingy room as I rub my thick beard. “Any chance you could get a razor and a change of clothes on that plane before it takes off?”
“Consider it done. Call me when you make contact.”
“Ford?” I ask before he can hang up. “Does she know you called me?”
“No. I didn’t want to get her hopes up if you told me to fuck off. Pritchard has a friend, Griff, who’s in Ireland on vacation with his girlfriend. He was my Plan B. But now, I’ll send him to Barcelona. Mateen’s on a school field trip there for the next few days. Griff can keep an eye on him. No point disrupting the kid’s life when we don’t know if there’s even a threat. He’s been through enough.”
I run a hand through my hair. It’s too long. Too wild.
“Mateen’s not the only one, Ford. I won’t let Lisette see me, but I’ll keep her safe.”
* * *
Ford is a miracle worker.When I make it through security and onto the private jet, I find a deluxe shave kit, two pairs of jeans, three t-shirts, a jacket, new boots, a black beret…even a package of briefs and socks. All packed away in a leather duffel.
“We do not have a shower on board, sir,” the flight attendant says as she sets a mug of coffee on the tray table next to me. “But the toilets are large and fully stocked with washcloths and towels. When we reach our cruising altitude, you are welcome to do…what you can.”
I snap the seatbelt in place and stare down at my blood-stained boots. “Thanks. Sorry if I smell.”
She smiles. Probably sees all kinds in this job. “You are not the first. And you will not be the last. Have a good flight, sir. If you need anything, press your call button.”
Ineeda do-over of the last three years. A priest to hear my confession. A fucking miracle to absolve me of my sins. The pretty blond can’t help me with what I need.
Pulling out my phone, I pop in an earbud and play Lisette’s messages one by one. I saved them all. Like Ford’s letters to Joey, I suppose. I couldn’t bring myself to delete them.
The third—sent eighteen months after I left her in that hospital corridor—is the one I listen to the most.
“I should be grateful when I hear you are still alive. For a year, I was. Now, I am angry. Ford told me you are no longer working for the government. That you could have chosen to return to the United States. Or…visit me here. Mateen still asks about you. About why you left. I hope one day, I will have an answer for him.”
By the time I’ve listened to every message, the seat belt sign has winked off, and the coffee’s gone. I grab the duffel bag and lock myself in the well-appointed lavatory.
The counter is big enough for me to lay out the two razors—one electric, the other with a silver handle and four blades—soap, brush, and comb.
The Viper had to blend in. I let my beard grow and stopped cutting my hair. It’s long enough to curl over my ears and my collar now. I don’t recognize the man in the mirror. But it’s not only his distinct lack of personal grooming. It’s his eyes.
