Page 98 of Filthy Dirty Dom

It was a good thing she trusted him so much.

The interior of the plane smelled musty and didn’t appear to have any air condition, but eventually, the hum of the plane's engine was a soothing lullaby that soothed her frayed nerves.

Seated next to Alex, she felt the tension gradually seeping out of her. He held her close, his arm a protective barrier against the outside world. His hand was a constant presence on her arm, fingers idly tracing circles, a silent promise that he was there, that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. The gesture, so simple yet filled with meaning, made her feel more secure.

Fatigue, finally catching up, pulled at her eyelids. With the steady thrum of the plane’s engines in her ears, and the warmth of Alex's body seeping into hers, sleep was irresistible. And so she succumbed, drifting off into a world of dreams, secure in the knowledge that Alex would be there when she woke up.

44

When Leslie next opened her eyes, it was to the sensation of the plane touching land. Sleep had erased the tumultuous events from her immediate consciousness, leaving her in a state of blissful disorientation. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked up to find Alex’s concerned gaze upon her.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Like a log," Leslie replied, stretching her arms above her head, feeling her joints pop. A yawn escaped her lips, and she realized just how tired she had been. "How long was I out?"

"A while.”

When the plane came to a stop, he rose from his seat, extending his hand to help her up. As they descended the plane's steps, she couldn't help but feel curious. She had no idea where they were, nor did she know what would happen next.

To her surprise, when they were inside another small airport, Alex arranged for another flight. After that, they took another. He’d explained that he needed to erase the trail they’d be leaving from the airport closest to Caris and their final destination. By the time they got off their third plane, Leslie could barely put one foot in front of the other. She almost cried with relief when Alex said they’d arrived and the car he’d arranged for at one of the earlier stops was waiting.

As the car pulled away from the airport, she found herself taking in the surroundings, looking for clues to their location. Like the others, the airport had been small. Unassuming and bordering on dingy. But the landscape surrounding it? It wasn’t anything like that. It was a painter's dream. Rolling hills covered in lush greenery, forests in full bloom, the trees a verdant tapestry against the clear blue sky. Intermittent clusters of buildings, their architecture a seamless blend of the old and new, popped up amidst the greenery, their terracotta roofs a striking contrast against the green.

It was the architecture that struck a chord in her memory. The distinct style was reminiscent of a photograph she'd seen once, a beautiful countryside, dotted with houses that bore the same characteristic style. And then, it clicked.

She remembered him speaking Italian on the island, his fluent words a hint to a past she knew little about. "Are we in Italy?" she asked, turning to face Alex.

"Yes, we are."

“Because of Luca? The mafia?”

Alex shook his head. “No. Because of Father Alessio.”

Father…

Leslie suddenly remembered the cashier’s check she’d seen on Alex’s refrigerator, and the charitable donation he’d planned to give to the Italian priest he’d met in Afghanistan.

“Did you—did you meet Luca and the others through Father Alessio?”

“No. They know nothing about him. I knew Father Alessio for a couple of years before I ever met them, and at the time, he went by a different name. Until a few months ago, Father and I had talked only a few times over the years. I never visited him nor he me. He doesn’t even know I send him the checks every year since I use a third-party service that allows anonymous payment options.”

“But why do you stay away from him? Why the secrecy?”

“Given how we met and what he still does, it was prudent to keep our connection off the radar.”

“What does that mean? Given how you met and what he still does?”

For a moment, it appeared as if Alex wasn’t going to answer her. Then he said, “Father Alessio ran an orphanage in Afghanistan for the kids of prisoners of war. I met those kids. Saw the good work that Father did. One day, I got a call from Father telling me the Afghan government believed he was keeping the kids for the U.S. government, so it could use the kids as leverage when interrogating its prisoners. To stop this, it ordered the execution of every child.”

“Oh my god. No!” Leslie gasped.

Alex nodded grimly. “I told my superiors but we were told to stand down. I refused. I rallied a few other soldiers, we hijacked a couple of helicopters, and we got to the orphanage right as the Afghan troops did. We had to battle through them to get to the kids…” For a moment, Alex looked haunted, the same way he had when he’d been examining the helicopter that allowed them to escape Caris.

“We saved some,” he finally said. “Failed to save others.” At this, Alex’s voice cracked. Automatically, Leslie reached out and placed her hand on his leg. He stared at her hand before continuing. “I was tried and almost discharged but ultimately the military swept it under the rug. Father Alessio, however, was deemed wanted by the Afghan government. To punish him, but also to find out where the kids were scattered. So you can understand why I limited contact. I couldn’t be the one to lead them to him.”

“But…what changed? Why did you go see him recently?”

Alex looked at her. “A month before Branden bought D&M, Father Alessio got in touch with me. He has Stage 4 cancer. Whatever secrets he has will soon die with him. He asked me to come see him. I did my best to make sure I wasn’t followed, that my trail was covered, but I couldn’t deny his last request of me. So I came here. Stayed a while. And now we need a safe haven. He can provide that.”

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