Page 161 of Risks of Temptation
I haven't worn it since we got married. The only scheduled event was the party the night I was sick.
Malin leads me through the embassy and into the car. The driver takes us to the private airport, and we get on the plane.
"After you, my bride," Malin says and motions for me to go up the steps.
I get inside and round the corner. I stop. Malin puts his arm protectively around me then looks around.
"No one else is on, except the pilot. Shut the door so we can get out of this country. I've had enough of this city for a while," the man grumbles.
Malin snorts and kisses the top of my head.
The man stands. He scratches his bald head. "Don't worry, ma'am. I won't bite you."
I glance at Malin.
"Ma belle, meet Tinker. Tinker, my wife, Emilia."
"You're...oh... Hi!" I exclaim.
Tinker's forehead wrinkles. "Your what?"
"My wife," Malin says proudly, and I beam.
Tinker stares.
Malin shuts the door of the plane and knocks on the cockpit. "All ready."
"You look like a younger version of your sister," Tinker says. "But your hair is curly."
I step forward and sit in the seat where he was. "You saw Naomi?"
"Sure. I saw all of them."
Malin and Tinker slap backs and sit.
"You want to tell me what the hell is going on now?" Tinker says.
"Why don't you tell me how you got on this plane?"
"Gustave."
Malin nods. "Should I ask what you were doing for Gustave?"
"Probably not."
Malin sighs. "Fair enough."
Tinker scratches his chin. "Now, why have you dressed all fancy like you're rich?"
I nervously glance at Malin.
"Do you want a drink? I think you might need one," Malin says.
"There's no flight attendant. Start talking."
By the time the plane lands, Tinker tells us about how everyone got to his house, except us. He informs us Dirk was shot but recovered and rescued Zoe. He gives us the address of Andre's brother's house in Bermuda and hands me a piece of paper. "Put that in your purse if you would. You both need to memorize the address. Then tell Gustave to destroy it."
"Have you heard from my sister?" I ask.
