Omar looks at me. “You see what I deal with?”
“I do.”
Maya glances over at last. “You are both impossible.”
“That is not new information,” I tell her.
Her mouth twitches.
Only once.
The airfield is quiet when we arrive. My jet waits at the far end of the private terminal, engines warming beneath the pale sky. Two of my men stand near the stairs while the pilot speaks with Omar. Everything moves with the usual efficiency—bags loaded, perimeter checked, fuel confirmed, no staff lingering where they do not belong.
Maya stops at the bottom of the stairs and looks at the plane.
“You have a private jet.”
“I have several.”
She turns toward me slowly.“I was answering your question.”
Omar walks past us with a bag over one shoulder. “At least she is talking again.”
Maya gives him a flat look. “I can stop.”
“Please don’t. The silence was making him unbearable.”
I look at Omar.
He keeps walking.
Maya follows him up the stairs before I can offer my hand. I let her. Her anger has edges, but it is still movement toward me. Distance would be easier. Anger means she has not stopped caring enough to fight, and that is better than silence.
Inside, she takes the seat across from mine.
A message.
Not a declaration.
Omar notices, of course. He settles into the rear of the cabin, opens his laptop, and grants us the privacy that only exists because he is listening to every word.
The jet lifts an hour later.
Maya keeps her attention on the window until the clouds swallow Miami beneath us. Her shoulders stay tight through takeoff, one hand gripped around the armrest as if she were expecting the plane to give her another reason to be angry.
Once the seatbelt light clicks off, she reaches for the tray next to her.
There is a tablet mounted in the armrest, stocked with movies, shows, and enough music to entertain someone through a hostage situation. Maya scrolls through the options with the same grim focus she used while reviewing the Boston floor plan.
“What are you looking for?” I ask.
“A distraction.”
“You have Omar for that.”
Omar does not look up from his laptop. “I heard that.”
“You were supposed to.”
