Roma
I wake with sunlight on my face and Felicity in my arms.
I keep my eyes closed for a long time, savoring this moment. I am hers now, make no mistake, and she is mine. The thought of leaving her now disgusts me. I can’t believe I even tried it. I’m so glad she caught up with me I can’t even put it into words. Something happened last night, something which has never happened with any other woman. We fucked, but it was more than that. The phrase making love comes to mind. I never knew what it meant until now.
“Are you awake?” Felicity’s voice is dreamy.
“Yeah.” I smile when she kisses my chest. Such a simple gesture, and yet so full of meaning.
What about the job, Roma? a voice whispers. A hateful voice. What about your life? You know you can’t stay with this woman, can’t ever really be with her—
I shut it out.
“Last night was something else,” Felicity says, joy and shock mixing in her voice. “Really something else.”
“I know.” I open my eyes and look down at her. She’s looking up at me, a sweet smile on her face, her cheeks bright red. She looks fresh and young and carefree, not at all like a woman who was taken hostage by perverted Russians. Not for the first time, I admire her resilience.
“What now?” she asks.
I swallow. “We get you back to the States, back home,” I say.
“But we’ll still see each other, won’t we?”
The future, the damned future. There’s so much to think about.
I’m about to answer when I see it. A swirling tower of smoke down the hill . . . Coming from Bear’s cottage.
I’m on my feet in a second, bending down and grabbing my clothes.
“What are you—”
Felicity stops when she looks down the hill and sees it, too. The smoke rises high into the air, curling fingers of smoke dominating the skyline. It’s a wonder we didn’t notice it earlier. It’s a wonder we didn’t smell it, there’s so much of it. That’s love for you, the same snide voice whispers. It blinds a man.
“You should stay here,” I tell her. “Wait for me—”
“Like hell I will,” Felicity says, pulling on her pants. “You might need backup.”
I make to argue with her, but I see there’s no point. Her hands are on her hips and she won’t be budged. I guess it’s because I tried to leave her last night. But surely she knows I couldn’t do that, not now, not after . . .
“Okay,” I say. “Just stay close.”
I shouldn’t be going anywhere near it. If Bear’s cottage is on fire, it can only mean one thing. Mr. Black’s agents are here, in France. They’ve found Bear and if they’ve found Bear, it means they’ve found me, too. They must know about Barinov’s death. Maybe Mr. Black has Russian contacts. I wouldn’t be surprised. And if he knows about Barinov’s death, my train of thought barrels as I jog down the hill, then he might know about me and Felicity. What will he make of that? I think of him now, sitting in the shadows as he so often does, spit flying as he roars at me. I don’t fear him. But I know the life well enough to understand that with a click of his fingers Mr. Black could have one-hundred hard bastards on my heels.
We get to the bottom of the hill just as the fire tears away some rafters and part of the roof of the cottage caves in. Tiles slide into the overgrown garden and shatter. The fire spits and hisses. The bricks are charred black and heat emanates from the cottage. Flickering hands dart out of the windows, the glass exploding in the heat, and lash out against the brick. There’s a crash as more rafters are torn and one of the walls collapses inward. It looks like it’s being eaten from the inside. Dry leaves in the garden, close to the windows, burst into flames and in a matter of seconds the entire garden is ablaze.
I stand just beyond the gate, watching as the flames engulf the house.
“What . . .” Felicity’s tone is numb. “What happened? An oven fire?”
“No,” I breathe. “Bear . . .”
I step forward without thinking. The flames hiss as the final rafters are consumed. The rest of the roof collapses; another wall totters. I step back, shielding Felicity with my body without thinking.
Bear is in there. I see the old man on his back, covered in smoke and being eaten alive by flames. The urge to charge in and save him, or at least reclaim the old bastard’s body, would overpower me if Felicity wasn’t here. But I have more to think about than Bear or myself. I need to protect her. She’s more important than all of it now.
I’m sorry, Bear, I think, turning away from the cottage.
I scout the other cottages. The next one over, about a quarter-mile, has a pickup truck outside. Right. My instincts kick in. If Mr. Black’s agents are here, they could be watching us right now. Or maybe they’re scouring the area. I don’t know, but I have to get Felicity out of here. That much is certain.
I take her by the hand and walk toward the pickup truck.
“Do you think he’s dead?” Felicity asks, walking quick in an effort to keep up with me.
My head pulses with rage. They killed Bear, I think, struggling not to clench my fist lest I crush Felicity’s hand. They killed Bear!
“Yes,” I say. “I think he’s dead. He was a mean, tough old bastard but even mean, tough old bastards burn.”
“What now?” Felicity says.
“We get you out of here, far away from whoever set that fire.”
As we walk, memories of Bear are thrust into my mind, despite my efforts to keep my head clear. I remember feeling lost and alone on the streets. The other kids were scared of me, because when I fought them, I hurt them bad. I didn’t feel good about it, not then, because it meant they left me alone. I was wandering the streets one night when I collapsed against the door of a Chinese takeout place. My belly was aching and it only occurred to me when I collapsed that I hadn’t eaten for five days. My head felt like it was going to explode. I was too young for all of it, but I was sure I was going to die. The customers in the takeout place ignored me. The owner began walking around the counter as if to shoo me away. And then this vending machine of a man, scarred and grizzled, stepped into his path.
“Don’t touch the boy,” he said, his voice strong, unwavering. “Don’t you dare touch the boy.” He stood over me. “Hungry, lad?” I barely managed to nod, and he scooped me into his arms and carried me up to his apartment. It was the first time in my life I had ever been treated kindly by anybody.
I shake my head, shaking away memories.
Keep her safe. Just keep her safe!
But Bear! Bear!
“Stop it,” I growl under my breath.
“What?” Felicity says.
“Wait here.” I let go of her hand, approach the driver’s side of the pickup, and smash the window with my elbow. The glass shatters and I reach in and unlock it.
“Come on,” I say, waving Felicity over.
“We can’t take this,” she says.
“We can and we are.”
There must be something in my voice which frightens her. She looks at me uncertainly.
“Get in,” I say.
She nods and climbs into the passenger seat. I get in, tear out the ignition panel, and begin hotwiring the car. I feel Felicity’s eyes on me, but I don’t have time to set her at ease right now. My only job is to keep her safe, make sure Mr. Black’s agents—the fucks who killed Bear—don’t get their hands on her. After this, I couldn’t give up Felicity even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. It’s me and her against the entire damn organization now and they’re stupider than I thought if they think I’ll give her up easily.
The wires spark and the car thrums to life. In the rearview mirror, a man wearing overalls and a wool cap runs into the garden, waving his arms and screaming in French.
I ignore him and step on the pedal, the truck coughing away from the cottage and toward the hill.
We need to head to the village, pick up supplies, and then be on our way. Get back to the States, pick up my funds, and then . . .
I can’t think about and then right now. Right now is enough to worry about.