Page 75 of Bastard
“Just make better choices in men, Sabine.”
“If only I can find someone like your husband.”
The driver grunts.
Hayden ignores her.
And I don’t know what to think. Somehow, I convinced him to stop for her.
I reach inside my pocket, suddenly remembering what I’d stashed inside it just as the trouble with Sabine began. “Here.” I offer it to him.
He looks down at the card and at the Russian’s contact information before flipping it over. Then, his entire expression goes ice cold.
I read the hastily scribbled words the Russian has written on the back.
When I’m your husband, I’ll never leave your side.
25
“Now what?” I ask Hayden. We’ve dropped Sabine off at the airport in Nairobi, where her sister is coming to collect her. A car picked us up and transported us to a heliport, where Hayden’s helicopter waits.
“You return to Nmimpi.”
I smile.
“You kept your promise to me, and I’ll do the same for you. The supplies have already been loaded along with your bags.”
“So, this is goodbye.” My grin falters. My chest feels tight, like my heart’s being squeezed.
He doesn’t reply. The consummate professional, he probably doesn’t do goodbyes.
I swallow hard.
Returning to Nmimpi is what I wanted all along. So why is my stomach churning like handmade crema fresca? Why is my skin ice-cold when the Kenya air is stifling hot? Why do I feel like my world is being torn out from beneath me?
Another helicopter ride. Another chance at sending me away.
I fiddle with the ring on my finger. It still won’t budge. A little soap, a lot of persistence, and I’ll get the damn thing off. Bury it out in the Malawian tundra, just like I intended to do.
Goodbye.
I will be free of you.
My heart will mend.
I’m surrounded by familiar faces. Friendly faces of the men I’ve come to both know and better understand. Each a hero in his own right, as is their boss, who’s standing stoically beside me. They’ve got important work to do, sleazy middlemen to ruin and a mine to shut down. Hayden needs to finish this secretive assignment; one that only a handful of people understand what the risk is.
“This time, I won’t be leaving kicking and screaming,” I comment, the words coming out sharp and less humorous than intended. I want to say more, except Hayden’s signaled for the helicopter to start up.
My hair catches in the wind created by the spinning blades. It whips about wildly, similar to the way my emotions spiral out of control. Returning to Nmimpi is what I want, isn’t it?
He weaves his fingers through my long locks, coiling my hair around his hand and into a bun. “Hold still,” he says gruffly, producing a rubber band. With deft hands, he secures the bun to the back of my head.
I inhale sharply, catching the familiar scent of him. But I can’t look at him; I can’t even manage a small thank you.
He steps back.
“Safe trip, Luciana,” one of my poker partners calls out.
