Page 11 of Deadly Sights

“And?”

“Andsomeone else tried to make a move on the emir today. I need to know if you’re compromised.”

He has no idea to what extent. Or that I’ll willingly do so again and again just to be in Nadira’s orbit.

“I slipped in and out. No tail. Satisfied?”

Jason takes forever to respond. In the interminable seconds, we stare at each other to see who’ll blink first. It won’t be me.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

On the surface, his words should reassure me, but they don’t.

“I have another assignment for you.” Jason pulls out a thick envelope from an attaché on the floor beside him.

I shake my head and down the rest of my drink. “Give it to someone else.”

He taps a finger on the envelope while contemplating me. “This is new. Since when do you give up an assignment without knowing the details?”

“Consider it me taking a mental health break. When I’m off hiatus, I’ll check in with you. In the meantime, if I see one of your people spying, know I won’t keep silent.” I walk toward the exit. With my hand extended toward the knob, I pause. “Oh, and I’ll apologize in advance.”

“For what?”

“For killing whoever you send.”

After all these years, the phantom ache I’ve carried from being separated from Nadira is no longer a dull throb that exists to remind me who I’m missing. It hammers at me to get to her, to watch and protect her, and to fulfill the promises we made to each other long ago.

From our two interactions, it’s clear Nadira doesn’t remember me or her past. The amount of willpower I have to harness to stop myself from unloading everything is something I’ve never had to do. On my flight to Denver, I spend the hours researching memory loss. I want her to remember me and everything we were to each other, but all the materials I read suggest the patient not force the process.

I pull up a recent photo of Nadira I took while she slept. Despite the risk of her waking, I covered her naked body to study her. As the seconds passed, I couldn’t resist the lure of lying beside her, and I needed the memory to prove I hadn’t succumbed to a hallucination. I’ve had them in the past after days of refusing to eat and drink in protest when the adults around me refused to give me information about her whereabouts. As an adult, the visions came occasionally. Always vibrant. Always leaving me screaming the name I knew while reaching for her ghostly image.

But now there’s proof. I caress the scar on her cheek, wondering how she acquired it. Some people might find it unsightly, but the mark draws my gaze to her best features. Of the many memories I’ve hugged close while missing her, the ones of her eyes and smile have sustained me through the years. Staring at her in this photo, I can’t help but recall that beneath her closed lids, dark irises shine like onyx whether they glitter with her rage or sparkle with joy, or like at the club, heat with a desire she doesn’t understand. Her cheek glows with health and softness despite the disfigurement. And her lips… The obsession to beat all obsessions. Plump, soft, juicy.

I close my eyes, wishing I tasted her when I had the chance, and knowing I won’t until she trusts me the way she used to. If that means waiting until her memory returns, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for her.

CHAPTER 6

BURGEONING FRIENDSHIP

Youthful Transgressions

Icy sadness frosts the tongue

Forgotten amid camaraderie.

While keepsakes remind us of summer winds

Fortune’s blessings overlook the worthy.

— JANINE MCFARLANE

Creative Gifts

Nightfall meant lights out, and all kids had to be in bed. No exceptions. But Afro Puffs and Hair Beads weren’t all kids. They had a mission. Preventing them from embarking on their quest were the security guards stationed in each wing of the orphanage.

Afro Puffs rolled her eyes as another guard made his rounds. “Let’s go,” she said when she deemed the way clear.

Hair Beads nodded and followed, crouched low and on socked feet to minimize the noise against the tiled floor. In their hands, they carried their sneakers.

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