Page 23 of Wraith
Smiling, he squeezed her hand then shook her. “Come on, Blackbird. Open your eyes.”
“What did I tell you about calling me Blackbird?” Her voice was soft.
Wraith retracted his hand. “We’re here.”
“What time is it?”
He checked his watch again. “We have to go in a few minutes.”
When she reached for her jacket, he turned around to look ahead. He watched the plane, searching for movement, anything to tell him if they were walking into an ambush. But the only person he saw was the familiar bulk of their pilot, walking around the aircraft with a flashlight. Wraith figured he was doing pre-flight checks.
“Okay. Ready.”
Wraith glanced back before removing the key from the ignition and pushing himself from the vehicle. The thought of the cops finding the van and running prints on the inside sobered him for a moment, so he took a second to wipe down the vehicle completely—including in the back and behind the rearview mirror. He reached across for his bag then closed the door with his hip. Together, they made their way along the fence until he came to a spot where he knew would give way, so they could climb through. He hoisted their bags through first then held the cutout open for her. After she was through, Wraith followed.
Close to the plane, he stuck his fingers into his mouth and blew. The portly man turned around and lifted the flashlight toward him.
“Cuzo,” Wraith greeted.
The two shook hands then hugged.
“I wish we were meeting again under different circumstances,” Cuzo said. “Get in. We have to go.”
“Yeah,” Wraith agreed.
There was no time for introductions. It seemed the moment they were climbed into the plane, they were in the air. At one point the plane shook and Amelia reached over and grabbed Wraith’s hand. He gave her a reassuring squeeze but didn’t release her hand.
“Sorry,” Amelia said.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Wraith assured her. “You don’t fly much?”
“No. I hate flying.”
“This is going to be a short one into Toronto.” Wraith explained. “Then we have another plane to catch for Russia. You can sleep through it if you’d like.”
“I won’t be able to.”
“You need vodka.”
Amelia laughed. “No. That would make me throw up not sleep.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry, you know?”
Wraith looked at her. “For what?”
“Getting you into this,” Amelia said. “I feel—I just—I’m sorry.”
Wraith unlatched his seatbelt and turned in his seat. He cradled a side of her face with one hand and leaned in. “Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“How can you say that? I brought this trouble right to your doorstep. I mean, you all but moved to Timbuktu but I found you.”
Wraith smiled and dropped his hand. “Yeah, you did.”
“I never thought I’d be doing any of this.” Amelia muttered. “I wanted a quiet life—a husband, kids. I waited because I didn’t want to settle. In my head, the man who became the father of my children had to be all these things I have on my list. Now, I’m going to die and my list—”
“No one’s dying.” Wraith told her.
