Carson doesn’t hesitate, and as his arms wrap around me, the world turns from its upside-down position. For a moment, everything feels right.
I wrap my arms around his waist and press my face to his chest. I take a deep breath of him, and for a couple of seconds, I allow my love for him to shimmer through the cracks in my heart before I pull back and walk away.
Because if I don’t, I’ll hold onto him forever.
The heartache is just as intense as when I left Saint Luc.
It will never fade, because I’ll always love him.
The realization hits hard, and I wrap my arms around my waist, clenching my jaw and doing my best to blink back the tears.
MJ falls into step next to me, and when the first tear escapes, she wraps an arm around my waist and guides me into an empty alley. This woman, who’s a stranger, wraps her arms around me, and needing the comfort so desperately, I cry against her shoulder.
“Take your time,” she whispers.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed that I broke down so quickly from seeing Carson.
MJ pulls back and smiles at me. “Never apologize to me. I want you to be comfortable with me. Consider me your friend. Nothing you say will be relayed to Carson. I'm loyal to you. Only you.”
I look at her as I wipe the tear tracks from my cheeks. “Okay. I just need time to get used to you.”
“We’ll move at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.”
She rubs my shoulder, then nods at the main road. “You’re going to be late for work.”
I take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself, then say, “Your first coffee is on me.
“Make that tea. I’m not a coffee drinker.”
I let out a forced chuckle. “You’re missing out.”
We begin to walk toward the restaurant, and glancing over my shoulder, I search for Carson, but he’s nowhere in sight... as if I imagined him.
My eyes turn to MJ.
No, I didn’t. I really got to hug him.
CARSON
The hug I got from Hailey’s been feeding my soul for the past month. It was nothing but a crumb, and it’s only prolonging the torture.
From a yacht, I watch as Hailey and MJ take the steep steps down to the cave of Odysseus, who’s a local myth. They’re on a day trip to Mljet, a small Croatian island. It looks quiet and peaceful.
With MJ now protecting Hailey, I have to be more careful because MJ will pick up on a tail much quicker than Hailey would.
Through binoculars, I watch as they step out of their shorts and t-shirts. My eyes are locked on Hailey as she dives into the water, the sight breathtaking.
My phone vibrates, and setting down the binoculars, I pull the device from my pocket and unlock the screen.
Contract: Thomas Debrov
Business: Arms / Drugs / Human trafficking
Time: 1 Week
Location: Egypt
Fee: €7 500 000.00
Letting out a sigh, I reply.
Contract on Thomas Debrov: Accept
Time to get back to work.
My phone buzzes as more information about the contract comes through.
I skim over the photo of Debrov and his personal details, and then I tuck the phone back in my pocket and start the yacht's engine. Leaving Hailey in MJ’s care, I steer the boat toward the mainland.
Docking the yacht, I climb off and walk to my car. I’ve finally bought a property, but the house is mostly empty. I’ve placed an order with a contractor to build an armory for me. It will take a couple of weeks, though.
I hate it. Slowly life is inching along, the distance between Hailey and me stretching further apart.
I feel the same about Africa as South America. It’s overcrowded, making my skin constantly crawl.
Crouching by a low wall of a parking area across the road from the dilapidated building Debrov’s office is in, I do a recon to plan the actual shot.
Through the scope of my rifle, I watch as his men line up three young African girls. The one looks nothing over thirteen. They look fucking terrified.
My finger tightens on the trigger as I move my sight from man to man.
“Blyad’,” I mutter as I look at the girls again.
Debrov walks into the office, and he goes straight for the youngest girl. He grabs hold of her chin, turning her face from side to side, and then he nods his approval.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Making a rash decision to help the girls, I get up and take the rifle apart. After putting it away and shrugging the backpack on, I grab hold of the low wall and jump over the side.
Landing in a crouching position, pain shoots up my legs from the drop. I ignore it and run toward the entrance. There’s zero security in the rundown lobby, and I take the stairs to the third floor. I pull my guns from behind my back, the Heckler & Koch in my right hand, and the Glock in my left.