It felt good to have them here. Knowing they were safe. But the guilt was slowly creeping in all around her.
“This isn’t your fault,” Eric said.
Adria just stared straight ahead, watching Bryson’s chest rise and fall with each strangled breath. “I don’t see it being anyone else’s,” she said.
Eric put his hand over hers, giving it a squeeze. “Yes, you do. This is Jonathan and Regan’s fault. Don’t try to twist it into something it isn’t.”
But they’re dead.
After they landed, Elena spoke to the Customs Border Officer. Adria watched her fiery hair move in the wind as she spoke animatedly with her hands.
A large envelope was passed between the two, and the pair shook hands.
“They can promise us discretion,” Elena said, walking back. “And a 3am takeoff time, provided no other flight plans come in.”
To avoid detection, Eric insisted they all check into their hotels separately.
Elena and one of her bodyguards would pose as a married couple. Eric and the other bodyguard would check in alone. Adria was meant to check in with a ‘husband’ and the other two boys could check in as friends.
When the time came to select her chosen husband, Adria felt the words leave her body. The urge to be with all three of them was so strong.
“I think the four of us can check in together. It won’t be too obvious,” Adria said.
Eric replied, “If the Triune are looking for us, or if they start asking around. We will be safer if we are not spotted in groups. Pairs or fewer are harder to remember.”
Adria wanted to argue, but if Eric really felt this was safer, she didn’t want to put them in any unnecessary danger. They would be at X’s compound by morning. What was one afternoon and a short evening?
“Which one of you wants to be her husband?” Eric asked the three.
Silence followed.
“Don’t volunteer all at once,” Adria grumbled to herself.
“Kaydon looks more your age, let’s go with him,” Eric said, all business. Completely oblivious to the awkwardness blooming around them.
“Right,” Seth said, clearly upset, and Adria gave him an apologetic look. Bryson looked off into the distance, and Adria could see how tired he was. All this travel wasn’t good for his condition. So, rather than arguing further, she just held her hand out for Kaydon, eager to get this evening over with.
Bright lights in the hotel room did little to increase the size of the space, or Adria’s mood. A single bed, barely enough room for a person to stretch out on, sat in the center. The air smelled of cleaning products, and the scent mingled oddly with the musty carpet.
The air conditioner’s grinding fan blades broke the silence in the room, but the sound only furthered her rising anxiety. Adria placed her bag on the worn-out bedspread. The absence of Kaydon’s luggage—of any luggage—spoke volumes in the empty room. One change of clothes each, that’s all they’d managed to grab. Three men who once had lives, possessions, futures—now reduced to whatever they wore on their backs.
Because of her.
Adria swallowed hard against the knot in her throat. No one could have anticipated this mad dash to Mexico, this desperate flight across borders. Hours ago, she hadn’t even been certain they would escape Jonathan’s alive. No wonder Bryson could barely look at her now.
She and Kaydon danced awkwardly in the small space, each attempting to maneuver gracefully around the other. Two months ago, she felt the safest she had ever felt in the arms of this man.
Now…anxiety and doubt clung to her like a coat in the rain.
Finally, she said, “I’m going to take a shower.”
Kaydon nodded, and Adria couldn’t help but notice the tension in his muscles. It was obvious he was just as uncomfortable as she was.
“Maybe you could wash your shirt and it will be dry by the time we leave,” she said, motioning for him to come into the bathroom with her.
Kaydon’s eyes scanned the room before saying, “I can wait until you’re done. Give you your privacy.”
The last part of his sentence trailed off, along with his tone. He scratched at a red mark on the inside of his forearm as he fidgeted in front of her.
