Page 49 of Hostile Bond
I roll my eyes. “Aren’t we all? Either way, you’ve technically kidnapped André Souza’s wife, so I guess you should obey me––for your own sake.”
“Wonderful.”
I unzip the Versace backpack and pull out a brick of a hundred-dollar bills. “Take this as payment.”
“What good would that do me when I get a bullet to the back of the head?”
“Look,” I sigh. “You’re in this up to your neck. Isn’t it better to have me on your side? I’m sorry I pushed you into this shitshow…I really am, but I have to get to Ireland. It's a life-or-death situation. You have immunity with me. So, when we land, just wait at the airport.”
As I speak to him, I consider calling The Rusty Shamrock just to hear Mammy’s voice and reassure her everything will be okay. Except I’d rather move in silence and only appear when it’s time to say checkmate to our antagonist.
I’m not a product of what Sean did to me in the past, but the person I’ve chosen to become. Whether I’ll still be a Souza at the end of it all is unknown.
Silence falls between us. I like it better this way. It allows me time to think, to dream, and to wish our circumstances were normal, so I could wake up next to André.
* * *
As dawn crept into daylight and then slipped back to nightfall, the growing distance separating us becomes cavernous and bleak.
Even though my phone was in Flight Mode, it didn't save the battery from draining. There’s only five percent left, and I didn’t pack a charger.
It was pointless holding onto it for the duration of the flight since incoming messages couldn’t get through. But for some hopeless reason, I couldn't bring myself to abandon it.
My fingertips curl around the device, reluctant to shut it down and save the final dregs of battery life. If I did turn it off, then I’d have to let go of the photographs I’d uploaded from my backup cloud account to the new phone André had arranged for me before we left Miami.
They’re all there. Countless images of my husband and I enjoying the solace of our honeymoon on the luxurious Sin Pretty––teetering on the brink of an unforeseen disaster. Neither of us are aware of the damage that would follow.
I can’t help staring at my favorite picture of us, remembering how hard I’d loved him that day. How crazy in love I’d felt for the very first time in my life. When I had fully accepted, it was him forever—my everything.
The picture shows us sprawled on a double sunbed, shaded from sunlight by a parasol, and our faces side by side. He’s a masterpiece of chaotic ebony hair, penetrating dark eyes, and a flirtatious grin housing dazzling white teeth that peek out from behind his beautiful lips.
If I wasn’t holding the pilot at gunpoint, I’d move to the cabin and satisfy the burning arousal festering in my core. The persistent hunger I have for André never fades. Even now, when I’m heartbroken and miserable, his handsome face still makes my insides flutter.
The wide smile captured on my face is a genuine depiction of how deliriously content I was. But now, the sunshine doesn’t soothe my worry; the stars don’t offer worthy wishes, and the turquoise hue of my eyes has dulled. Nothing feels alive anymore, without him in my life.
I could almost smell the scent of his hot skin and feel the sizzle of his commanding fingertips on my hip bones as he’d angled me into the shot before snapping our happiness. My soft groan quickly turns into an angry snarl when the reason for leaving him hits me for the millionth time.
I can’t stop thinking about Sean Hennessy. My mind spins as I imagine the cruel things he could be doing to Mammy while I’m soaring above the ocean. It’s those heinous thoughts that suffocate my sappy memories and torture me through the dark, troubled hours spent in the air.
A navy-blue sky gradually morphs into a threatening black abyss. Heavy rain-laden clouds whoosh past us when we hit the unsettled weather conditions of Ireland on our descent. The plane rattles and wobbles from mild turbulence as speedy windshield wipers do their best to sweep haphazard raindrops away.
When we puncture through the dense clouds, thousands of orange lights glisten for miles. The bird’s-eye view of this city is completely different from Miami. The darkness of nightfall feels like a permanent fixture in my life these days.
While the pilot requests to enter the controlled airspace, my heart leaps into my mouth. André won’t be here to greet me, to haul me into his powerful arms, and shield me from the bitter cold––to kiss me in that mind-melting possessive way of his.
My desire catches fire when I imagine running to him, on our island where love blooms. Except stepping off the private jet into this miserable wet climate would snip the thread that links us. His love for me would wither and die. I’ve clawed our bond to tatters, and by doing so, my heart hurts like never before.
In a second of blind panic, I doubt my decision to leave him behind. I’m not ready to say goodbye. However, that transient lapse of confidence is squashed by the hate-filled voice in my head that won’t leave me alone. The unhealed, caustic murmur that seeks retribution.
Sean will pay for his crimes.
When the wheels hit the tarmac, adrenaline takes over from the exhaustion of a direct long-haul flight, charging my limbs with an uncontrollable jitteriness.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I pat the pilot’s shoulder. “Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
He nods curtly, drags off his headset, unclips his harness, and climbs out of his seat. “I’m going to piss myself.” Painting on a thin smile, he almost doubles over when he stands upright. “Next time you hijack a plane, Mrs. Souza, don’t shoot my co-pilot, so he can fly with me.”
“I’ve no plans to hijack another plane… but never say never.” I follow behind him and wait at the narrow cubicle door until he’s finished. Blotting his forehead with a paper towel, he backs out and moves to the side door.
