Page 14 of Love on the Run

“Business in Japan? You were at a gala in California, Prosperity,” seethes.

Smoothing her fawn-colored pants down, she says like she’s bored. “I was saying, I had business in Japan and couldn’t make it on time make the event, so I sent the yacht ahead and met it there. I never saw, Flower there, Bishop. If I did, I would’ve helped her. She’s not one to do something out of spite. I’m not in their marriage but I trust her.”

“Well, Akchiro is on the hunt. He won’t stop until he has her and their son back, Prosper. He is not the type of motherfucker you mess with on your best day. I told him we didn’t have anything to do with her disappearance. He knows about your little endeavors, so he came to me as a man. Face to face. He looked gutted, Prosperity. Like he was the living dead. He promised death to anyone who has her. He meant that shit. If you helped her or have her. Come back home so we can protect you. Dubai is too far.”

“Your reach is just as far,” she sighs, looking at me.

“The problem is big sis, his goes just as far.” He ends the call after a few moments and I must give it to her, she looks positively unfazed.

“We can leave.” I tell her as soon as she ends the call.

She’s already shaking her head, No. “Uh-uh. We’re not doing that. We are not letting men run us. You left for good, valid reasons. I trust you not to pry but I saw how devastated you were when you got here. Trust me. They all do this. I don’t carewhether they are oligarchs, mob bosses, cartel bosses, princess, kings, sultans, or presidents they all do the threats, the crying, the plots, and we haven’t lost a woman or a kid yet. It’s a pride thing for them. Eventually, they give up. And by that, I mean they realized they can’t control the situation, and they give the woman a settlement and find someone else who’s life they can make miserable. I’ve had a few repeats.

Your case is a little different because we normally move people to Asia, but your guy owns most of it and you are too well known. So, I’m thinking somewhere in the countryside of South Africa until things blow over. It’s beautiful. Asa can run and play.” She words are reassuring.

“South Africa sounds perfect. I’ve only been once, and it was amazing.” I find myself hopeful for the first time in a while. Being here has been starting to feel like a ticking time bomb.

“Africa is so vast you can get lost anywhere there. He’ll never find you.” She assures me.

We fall into the old comfort of friendship, talking about my favorite things, fashion and film. Prosper is a fierce advocate having helped over a hundred women flee abusive husbands the world over with her secret network.

For some reason I always kept the special card she gave me one day over lunch when I was newly married Akchiro. “I hope you never need it, but just in case you do,” she said with a shrug between celebratory a toast. Little did I know how unfortunate and true her words would be.

She was my only call.

My sleep had beenfitful ever since I left him. Plagued with nightmares. I’d started sleeping with Asa just to get through the night. Brushing his little hair until I finally fall asleep.

“Daddy,” I had to be a dreaming because Akchiro singing a lullaby to our son almost never happens. In fact, it’s so rare now with the way he’s always working, I doubt Asa would even recognize the words. The strong baritone is so clear and sad. Asa’s giggling and clapping is so clear in the dream. It’s not the first time I fight to wake up. It’s not the first time I have to wipe my tears because of a dream about my husband and our family made me cry. No.

I rise to my elbow thinking Asa is up playing or needing a cuddle. A dim light spills across the room. I scramble to a seating position. On the other side of the bed sitting with his back resting against the headboard is Akchiro. Holding a now sleeping Asa. The last words of the lullaby falling from his lips.

His says the word, his eyes are on me now.

My heart slams in my chest. The coldness of his eyes, the deadness is like nothing I have ever seen. He’s so thin he’s almost gaunt as if he’s shed everything that made him the slightest bit soft. It’s as if he’s shed every part of his humanity.

“Bao.” It is soft as a whisper.

Our huge, ex-sumo driver strides through the door reaching for and receiving our son. He flicks a brief glance my way that is full of disappointment and sorrow.

There are no words. None to fully encapsulate my terror.

Gone is my husband. Only the monster remains.

He reaches inside his pocket. Is it a needle with poison? Will they find me dead in my bed? Will they even find a body?

My heart feels like is about to burst through my chest. I scramble away. But as always, he’s too fast.

He slams his hand over my face and mouth. Ohmygoodness. I fight. I promise, I fight. I kick. I head butt him. He rears back. “Fuck.” He grabs my neck. Bruising. Hard. Tears leak out my eyes as I struggle fighting for my life.

I look at him wildly. His face is a mask of rage.

“Faithless bitch,” he roars. I feel a sting.

Everything goes black.

NINE

Akchiro (somewhere in the Arabian Sea on the Takeda Drago Super yacht).

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