“Vicky?”
“I’m fine.” It comes out on a pained gasp, undermining the words, but they’re the truth. Hell, I’m better than fine. I’mgood.
Alex wantsme.
We’re going away, leaving our lives behind, focusing only on each other.
He told me he loves me, but now he’s showing it.
“Are you sure you don’t want a wheelchair?”
“Damn sure. I’m feeling stronger.” And it’s true. “Maybe your arm, if you can manage that cart too?”
“Of course.” He takes the handle in his left hand, offers me his right arm, and I grip it. Together, we walk toward the building, our progress slow as he matches my pace.
“Are you abandoning the car?”
“Yes.”
“Does it have a gun in it?”
“No. I threw it in Gravesend Bay. You were asleep.”
“Smart.” We make another half dozen steps. “Thatother gun. The one you turned up with. Where was that from?” Better to ask these questions when we’re not going through security.
“It was DeLuca’s.”
“Oh.” Another step. Then another. “Did you kill him?”
His arm tenses under my hold. “No,” he growls, like he’s regretting it.
I decide not to ask more questions that might provoke another murderous rage, in case he leaves me here in the departure lounge and drives back to finish the job.
My fiancé, the killer.
Yet what is love, if it’s not knowing someone’s flaws, and accepting them anyway?
Alex has a lot to accept too.
I’m far from perfect.
There’s a reception desk inside, a burnt ochre theme, no one around but staff, and a disconsolate coffee machine in one corner. Alex props me against the desk while he deals with our booking. I don’t even consider that I haven’t got my passport until he pulls it out, along with his.
My brain’s still muddled by the fifty volts.
I wonder if there’ll be long-term damage, and if not, how long it will take me to recover. But though I feel shit, I also feel better than when we left the warehouse. Stronger in myself, despite the weakness of my body. I take that as a good sign.
“They’re ready for you, sir,” the receptionist says.
“How long is the walk to the aircraft?” Alex asks.
“Only a hundred yards or so.”
“We’ll have a golf cart.”
“Uh… Sir, we don’t—”
Alex leans forward. “Find me agolf cart.”
