“Better fucking not be,” he grumbled against my lips before claiming them.
My tongue met his without prompting. I gave myself over to his possessive hold and demanding kiss. Getting lost in Avery came too easily. It was all or nothing, and after years of fearing to give it my all, the thought of us ending up as nothing had renewed fears cutting through me.
Despite not seeing him between leaving the Army and recently, Avery was constant and reliable. Through the ups and downs, I could depend on him, no matter what. He was my calm within each storm, but also the flame that lit my wick.
Avery boosted me into his arms and my legs wrapped around his waist. He could have carried me straight into the arms of my enemy without me knowing. Truly lost in the way he devoured me like I was his last dying wish, I savored every touch, lick, groan, and breathless hiss of pleasure.
For today, we had each other to get lost in, but come two days’ time, I was walking into a country I vowed never to return to.
And that scared me more than heading to war.
Chapter Fourteen
Hallie
A wave of stifling heat hit me as soon as I exited the Cape Town International Airport terminal. I tightened my grip on the suitcase handle and pushed forth, determined to snag a taxi off the lot before I had to wait for others to arrive.
The driver took me inland to the hotel, which conveniently—and intentionally—sat not far from my father’s empire.
Once checked in, I pushed into the little room and dumped my luggage on the floor. Jet-lag and exhaustion from the twenty-six-hour trip had me falling onto the bed and instantly annoyed when it squeaked. Huffing, I pulled out my phone and checked in with Tiffany. She assured me that according to the close observations she’d kept on my mom over the last several days, nothing appeared out of the ordinary.
It was now a waiting game to see if the opportunity arose to intersect with her without a constant bodyguard nearby.
~*~
The next day gifted me with an opportunity. Mid-morning, I followed Tiffany’s instructions and ended up a few doors down from a bustling coffee shop where Mom and her usual wingman had been tracked to.
I felt out of place in a dress, high heels, and my long auburn hair hanging in loose curls down my back. In an effort to fit in, I’d ditched the jeans and boots in the hopes that wearing something that didn’t match my previous MO would help me fade into the background.
I entered the coffee shop and went straight to the counter—glancing around would have been suspicious. After placing an order for coffee and banana bread, I skimmed the shop for a place to sit, ideally off to the side or in a corner. The best that was available was a free table for two near the front of the cafe, so I took my table number and positioned my chair so I could see most of the coffee shop without making it obvious I was people-watching.
I read the small on-table menu for a minute, then casually let my attention float across the other brunch-goers enjoying their food and coffee. My sight grazed over the Black man sitting with my mother, purposely not lingering longer than it had on anyone else. My mom on the other hand… I couldn’t even look at her. My pulse tripped and raced as it was, so I intentionally avoided her, knowing it would weaken my already hurting heart.
I had to bide my time and wait for the right opportunity. I’d only get one chance here, and if I blew it, I’d find myself in a situation I didn’t need. If I missed the moment, well, hell, I’d have to wait for another; and that was wasted time I couldn’t afford.
The waitress arrived at my table with my coffee and freshly baked banana bread. I thanked her in English, then added a request in Afrikaans while sliding a tip across the table that was ten times the expected amount. Visibly shocked by both the extra money and me using the native language following a heavy American accent, the woman at least paused to hear me out.
“Can you please singThula Babaon your way back to the counter?” I asked in Afrikaans.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“It’s personal,” I explained, pulling the plate of banana bread closer. “And please give the barista my thanks. The coffee smells amazing.”
I smiled sweetly and held her dark gaze until she nodded once and pocketed the tip. “Have a nice day.”
The melody of her sweet voice faded as she wove her way through the coffee shop. I tracked her progress while taking a long sip of coffee and saw the moment Mom recognized the tune. It was the Zulu lullaby she sang to me as a little girl. After my abduction, it was the only song that settled me at night, and she would sometimes lie with me for an hour or more, quietly singing until I relaxed enough to fall asleep in her arms.
The memory squeezed my heart and brought an unwanted prickling of tears to my eyes. I sniffed them away and set down my coffee. I studied mom for an extra few seconds, seeing her visibly draw in a deep inhale and exhale to loosen the tension set tight into her shoulders.
When she started casually glancing around the coffee shop, I focused on cutting the banana bread in half. I looked up while popping a piece into my mouth and caught the end of Mom’s passing glance. The connection was made, and if she was screaming inside like I was, she did a damn fine job of hiding it from the man sitting across from her.
They ate and drank in silence. That struck me as odd. Mom had a chatty, upbeat personality, so to watch her sit without so much as uttering a single syllable had me perplexed.
I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Tiffany, updating her about having made visual contact with the intention of stealing a moment to talk with Mom if possible. The plan was simple: give her my contact number, organize to meet her, then figure out what the fuck went down a few years ago when she disappeared. If she was here of her own accord, then I’d walk. If her return to Cape Town was under duress, then I had a plan to get her back stateside.
Fifteen minutes passed before the man with Mom made a move. Mom halted him mid-stand and gestured toward the bathroom. Reading her intentions, I sat tight for a couple of minutes before casually making my way in the same direction.
The instant I pushed through the bathroom door, Mom pulled me inside and shoved the door shut. Her stricken eyes searched mine and the deep crease of concern between her eyebrows set me on edge.