Lap of Luxury (Love Don't Cost a Thing)

“And here I am, alive, just about. I’d kind of like to stay that way.”

Ciara has been mostly silent throughout my speech, but now she asks, “He means to kill us? Misha and me? He said that?”

There’s no way to soften the truth, so I just nod.

“I get that he hates me, but his own brother?” She reaches out and takes Mikhail’s hand. While she looks frightened, Mikhail just looks angry and severe. I think he’s been preparing for this day ever since he and Ciara fled London.

“How many men does Damir have on the yacht?” he asks.

“Four, including himself. They’re all armed. I may have slowed them down a bit. I destroyed all the life rafts and poured sugar in the speedboat’s tank.”

“That was good thinking.” Mikhail pulls out his phone. “We’re going to get off the island. I’ll call the airport and ready a plane. It will be traceable, but we’ll plan a new way to disappear while we’re in the air. For the moment, lock the doors and windows and close all the curtains. This is the safest place we can be for now.”

Mikhail heads into the kitchen to make the call and Ciara and I hurry around the house, upstairs and downstairs, seeing that everything’s locked down and no one can see in. Then we meet back in the lounge, and stand looking at each other in silence.

“I’m so happy you’re together,” I say finally.

Ciara grimaces and sits down, pulling a cushion into her lap and hugging it to her body. I can see she’s thinking, Yes, but for how long?

To keep her mind off what’s happening out there, I ask her what she and Mikhail have been through since they left London.

She fiddles with the seam of the cushion. “It was really hard, at first. I had a lot of trouble understanding why Misha kidnapped me, and why we had to hide. He nearly went back to London to draw Damir out so I could be safe. But I couldn’t let him go.”

There’s no need to ask why. I can see it in her face as she glances toward the kitchen. She loves him. Pure, gentle love that’s always been so alien to me. It still does. There’s nothing pure or gentle about the way I feel about Damir.

“What has he been doing to you?” Ciara whispers.

I look up sharply into her worried eyes. Doing to me. How has he been hurting me, she means. Has it been beatings, or something worse.

Mikhail is standing in the doorway, his face pale and hard. As he realizes what Ciara is asking, he turns to leave the room. “I’ll let the two of you talk in private. I’m here, though, Bethany. You’re safe from him now.”

I hurry to correct him. “No—wait. It’s not like that.” Not exactly. Not in the way Mikhail and Ciara are thinking. “He didn’t—he’s not—I didn’t run away from Damir to save myself. He treated me quite well, actually.” I feel my cheeks start to glow red. “I ran away to save the both of you.”

If he hadn’t been so hell-bent on revenge then I would have stayed with Damir. I would have been happy, because with Damir, I was alive and free, and so was he. I saw it in his eyes whenever he looked at me, before they clouded over again with his need for revenge. How would he have looked, I wonder, if I told him about the baby? Would his arms have slipped around me and cradled my belly as he whispered his wonder and love into my ear?

Tears slip down my cheeks and I have to cover my mouth to prevent myself from sobbing. “I’m sorry,” I manage between gulps for air. “It’s just been a difficult time.”

“That monster,” Ciara mutters. She and Mikhail both fuss over me, handing me tissues and water and saying comforting words. They think my tears are because I’m deathly afraid of Damir. There’s no way to tell them that his brutality and tyranny only made me love him.

Mikhail’s phone rings, and he answers it. Ciara and I both watch him in tense silence. A moment later, he hangs up and turns back to us. “There’s a plane refueling. We’re going to drive to the airport and fly to the mainland. Mombasa or Nairobi are our best options.”

Ciara jumps up and hurries to the bedroom. She comes back with two passports and hands one to Mikhail. “What about Bethany? She doesn’t have a passport.”

“I’ll think of something. Let’s just get to the airport. If she’s deported to the UK then at least she’ll be away from Damir.”

The security guards are waiting out front with two SUVs, their faces tense behind their dark glasses. Two of them escort Ciara and I out, flanking us on either side. There are two more behind us. Mikhail has a revolver in his hand and brings up the rear.

There’s a phttt sound. Blood blooms in a cloud, and the guard to my right crumples to the ground.

Phttt.

Phttt.

Phttt.

All four guards sink to the ground around us as if they’re marionettes and someone has cut their strings. Ciara and I stare at the corpses at our feet in horror. My eyes snap to the sand dunes around us. He’s here.

“Get in the car!” Mikhail roars, stepping over the dead bodies and yanking the driver’s side door open. Ciara and I run for the bac