Page 26 of Wraith
“It’s not stupidity, Amelia. You’re just hopeful.”
“Hopeful, dense—at this point, what’s the damn difference?”
“Amelia…”
“I’m tired.” Amelia shifted in her seat and turned her head away from him again. She even closed her eyes. “I’m going to sleep.”
But she couldn’t fall asleep. No matter how hard she’d tried all she managed to do was think of Liam. All she could do was sit beside him, yearning for his arms and driving herself mad.
The meal served on the plane was inedible. She pushed it around on her paper plate for a good half an hour before giving up and handing it to the hostess when she passed. Amelia settled on drinking the apple juice and then drifted off to sleep again. At the Roissy-Charles de Gaulle airport in France, they switched to an Air France airbus. Amelia pouted the whole time they were hurrying to catch their plane because she couldn’t believe she was in Paris and couldn’t even see the Eifel Tower.
Their next switch was in Sheremtyevo, Russia. That one she had some seriously pissed off feelings about.
“How much longer?” she asked, trying to push her bum into the way too narrow seat. The metal part dug into her hips fiercely.
“This is the last plane to Chelyabinsk.”
“And how far to Omsk?”
“About twenty hours.”
Amelia sighed like a child in the backseat during a road trip. “How did you learn Russian?”
Liam glanced at her as if he wasn’t about to answer the question. Finally, he cleared his throat and gave her a one shoulder shrug. “In the military, most of us had to learn a second language to do our jobs. I learned Russian, Farsi and Mandarin.”
“Really?” Amelia perked up. “Say something in Mandarin!”
“Um…” Liam turned to stare into her eyes. “Ni zhenmei.”
Amelia trembled. She had no idea what he meant but just watching his mouth form around the foreign words, gave her the most beautiful goosebumps she’d ever felt. “Tell me what it means.”
“I might tell you one day.” Wraith whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “Might.”
She eyed him with her brows wrinkled but didn’t push the subject. Instead, she allowed him to ask her questions about herself. Those she answered without fear or hesitation. A part of her said he was only asking to keep her mind off the hell her life had become. Sleep would remain aloof. The only thing she could do until they landed, was talk to Wraith, pretend he wanted her and truly was interested in what made her smile.
Chelyabinsk wasn’t what Amelia expected.
Honestly, she hadn’t been sure what she had expected. One thing was for sure, after being in Russia, she’d never complain about the winters in Toronto or Kirkland Lake ever again. She moved beside Liam, quickly through the airport. Somehow, they managed to bypass customs. Amelia didn’t ask questions. She merely kept her head down and shuffled along.
Outside, the air was frigid but thankfully they caught a cab. Liam spoke Russian to the driver—actually had a whole conversation with him in the language. It still surprised her. She didn’t think he could get any sexier. Though the Russian language wasn’t particularly sultry, knowing Liam was smart enough to pick up the tongue did something for her.
They climbed from the vehicle about twenty-five minutes later in front of what looked like a broken-down motel. It was massive and in its hay day, the place must have been something special. Not anymore though—on the top floors most of the windows were smashed out. A few of them were boarded up but others had gaping holes. Amelia looked up to find smoke dancing lazily from the chimney above the large abomination of a structure.
“When we go inside, let me do the talking,” Liam was saying.
“Might as well. I don’t speak Russian.”
Wraith gathered both their bags and took her hand. For some reason, she didn’t pull away. Her fingers were warm in his large paw. She trembled but somehow managed to have her brain communicate with her feet. The stench in the lobby was intolerable—a sickening combination of age-old cigarette smoke, body odor and cat pee. It took everything inside her not to throw up the little food she’d managed to eat on the plane.
Liam was once again speaking in the language making her weak. She clung to his arm and remained quiet. The man behind the counter smirked at her in the way a man looked at a woman when he wanted to tear her clothes off—the way which said he approved of Liam’s choice in women. Amelia didn’t have to speak the language to know what was being said. Finally, the man handed over a set of keys and Liam dropped money in his hand.
“You are officially my wife,” Liam said when they were making their way down a corridor with a whole different smell. This time, it was of mold and bad curry.
“Your wife?” Amelia took a breath. “Sure. I’m already Kristy Swansea, Why the hell not your wife?”
Inside their room, things weren’t any better. The lighting left little to be desired for it made Amelia squint to see much of anything. But what she noticed was the bed was being held up by cinder blocks. Splotches on the sheets worried her. They didn’t look like any kind of stains she’d ever seen. The curtains by the window had seen better days for they seemed to have been through a fire and a flood. Amelia poked the bed and groaned. “I’m not going to sleep tonight,” she said.
Liam dropped their bags on the floor and instantly reached for his laptop. He set it on the desk.
