“Hey.” I squeeze her hand. “Look at me.” She drags her eyes to meet mine. “It will be okay. We will get the passports and disappear.”
“Promise?”
I hold my glass up and clink it with hers. “On my life.”
The sound of Rosh’s breathing is comforting. She’s fast asleep on my chest and tucked safely under my arm. Every night, around this time, is when the dark thoughts creep in. I start to worry, just after she has drifted off to sleep before me. I rub my cheek back and forth over the top of her head as I think. She nestles closer and kisses my chest in her sleep.
I’ve never had this before. I’ve never felt so contented, so connected to one person. My mind goes back to Mandy, my childhood sweetheart, and a heavy sense of regret fills me.
I haven’t let myself think of her much over the years. I guess I’ve always been too disappointed in myself to let my mind go there. I loved her. I loved her so much, and yet on trips away I would sleep with other woman at different ports around the world.
Why?
I think back and I can remember how aroused I was all the time and how badly I needed the touch of a woman when I was away… any woman. Why didn’t I just break up with her? I think on it for a moment. It was because when I went home she was the only woman I wanted in my bed. She was the only one I wanted to talk to. It went on like that for a while. I would go away for six weeks and be home for six weeks. In the end it was the guilt I felt when I looked in her eyes that brought me undone. I wonder if I hadn’t finally ‘fessed up, would we have married? Would I have gotten over the young and stupid stage, or was there something lacking in our relationship that made me do it?
She would have done anything for me, and I for her. Except the obvious: Loyalty.
I couldn’t do that.
She moved on quickly and was dating within a year, hooking up with a nice stable guy. She married him and they have two small children now.
I don’t think I ever recovered.
I’ve never let myself get close to anyone since. I never want to cause anyone that hurt again. My mind goes to the moment I told her I had slept with someone else and the haunted look on her face. She didn’t believe me at first, and then her heart broke as she wept on the bed as I sat helplessly at her feet.
I will never forget it as long as I live.
I get a lump in my throat still, seven years later. Along with my brother’s death, it is the most painful memory I have, and I caused it for both of us. I gently kiss Rosh’s forehead as she throws her top leg over mine. And now I have this woman. I’m head over heels in love with her, and yet we only met because I kidnapped her.
What kind of man have I turned into?
My brother would be so ashamed.
I lie for half an hour in the dark staring at the ceiling as I go over and over all the mistakes I have made. My lips rest on her forehead. For some reason I need to physically touch her or I can’t relax. Why do I feel so different about Rosh? Why is this love incomparable to anything I have felt before? I feel like an out of control schoolboy who would die on the sword for his all consuming first love.
The thought of being with someone else turns my stomach.
She’s strong, crazy, unpredictable, and yet vulnerable like a child. I feel like, with her, I need to be the adult in the relationship. The urge to protect her is almost primal and I’ve never experienced anything like it before. Sexually, she blows my mind. Mentally, she constantly challenges me, and yet I know that she would leave me in a heartbeat if she thought it was for the best.
Her strength scares the hell out of me, partly because I know I can’t control it. The first woman I can’t control and she’s learned how to detach herself if she needs to. What if she walks away from me to save my life?
Or worse.
What if she dies?
I couldn’t bear it. I can’t bear the thought of living without her.
I squeeze her that little bit tighter in my arms and I know it’s going to be another long night in the dark alone. I’m certain that if nobody accepts the job to kill Vikinos, it will be one of our last together.
They are closing in.
We are running out of time.
* * *
Rosh
Stace sits at the other end of the row of seats opposite me. My eyes meet his and he snaps them away. I am wearing jeans with a large black hoodie, and a red wig that is platted down my back with a baseball cap shielding my face—another disguise. We are at the airport and, true to Stace form, he is being super careful and won’t even let us look at each other. He’s edgy. We had to leave the guns. This is the first time since it all happened that we have been completely unprotected, but we have no choice if we want to board an airplane. He is on his phone and I know he is searching to see if there are still flights available on the next plane to Vegas. The plane starts boarding in an hour. We only have half an hour to get on if we are going to make it. What is he waiting for?