Page 130 of Contract of a Billionaire
A sniffle. Then another sniffle. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand.
There were people that lived like this their entire lives. We’d been at it for six weeks and I was falling apart. It didn’t take long, about a week. But I was too proud to let it show. The young woman with the child didn’t cry. She was grateful, smiling even, that she had protection from these men. I was thankful too. The moment all hell broke loose in Kabul, it was only thanks to this group of four men that we’d escaped. They’d surrounded us and shuffled us out of the area, while bullets flew all around us.
I squeezed my eyes shut, the backs of my eyes burning and threatening to let the tears flow. I knew once they let loose, there’d be nothing holding them back. I brought my knees to my chest, laying on the hard cave floor and wrapped my arms around me for some heat.
The burka and the clothes I wore underneath it offered barely any warmth. One of the security guys gave me one of his shirts. All our stuff was left behind. I had my camera, they had their guns, and all of us had the clothes on our backs.
That was it.
As we traveled on foot, through the villages in the dead of the night running from the group of men that had put a price on our heads and threatened any local who’d help us.
And still we found kindness in the most unlikely places.
In one of the villages, a woman offered me her burka. They had barely anything and she still offered me her best burka so I could pass as a local. Another man gave us food to go. We didn’t dare stay in anyone’s home and bring trouble to their doorstep.
The first tear rolled down my face. It was Christmas Eve back home. It was Christmas day here.
It would be my first Christmas away from my family. First Christmas without Kol. A lump formed in my throat. It squeezed and squeezed, until I couldn’t breathe. A wheeze escaped me and I quickly swallowed the sob forming on my lips.
But another followed.
And my body started to shake as each new sob rolled through me. My hands covered my mouth, my fingers trembling. I squeezed my eyes hard, hoping to get myself together before someone woke up.
And Salma’s baby needed sleep.
That was the name of the woman with the baby. Salma and her little girl, Azaia.
She was an Afghani up and coming female reporter. And when the shit hit the fan, they came after her. She never made it to the gate that would have secured her and her baby’s safety.
I didn’t regret jumping to her rescue. I really didn’t.
But never in a million years had I thought we’d end up here. Cut off from the world. Cut off from safety.
“We’ll get out of here.” The deep, raspy voice came from behind me.
Kian. No last names.
The fifty-something-year-old man that had saved my life. Why? I had no fucking idea. I guess kind of like I had no idea why I jumped in front of Salma. Kian barely talked. He was one of those silent, mysterious types.
Six weeks together and I only knew his name.
“It’s Christmas,” I whispered, glancing over my shoulder and meeting his dark gaze. His eyes were the colors of the darkest, starless night. I could see the silver grays in his hair and stubble, making me wonder again what he was doing here.
He was a well off guy. Call it intuition, but I’d stake my life on it. Or it could be the quality of his clothes, guns, and watch around his wrist.
“You celebrate Christmas?”
“Yes.” But it wasn’t that which made this hard. “Do you?”
“It’s been a while.”
I turned back around and stared at the wall of the cave as a shiver rolled down my spine. It was damp and so fucking cold, even with the fire going. “It’s the longest I’ve ever been away from my son,” I croaked, my voice barely above whisper.
“Hmmm.”
A long pause followed.
“You have kids?” I asked. I should get some rest, we both needed it. We’d probably have to hike again tomorrow. Though where in the fuck we were hiking to, I had no idea. Kian refused to share his plans.
