38
One Month Later
Linc had burned the yacht to the ground, or rather, into the water, where the flaming vessel had eventually said its final goodbyes before plunging beneath the surface of the River Thames—to much fanfare and commotion. Every fire engine, police car, and news station in London had raced to the edge of Manchester Road where the view of the sinking boat had been the best. The media fuss and fire engine water cannons had come too late to save the doomed vessel, however, and the River Thames had swallowed it whole with London’s beloved Prince Ali onboard, along with his entire security team.
Malik Ali had been pronounced dead just a few days later.
After a few weeks, his beloved wife, Mia Ali, was announced as presumed dead. A presumption that had sent real shockwaves ebbing not just all over London, but all over the world, as news of the yacht tragedy spread like wildfire. It hadn’t taken long for conspiracy theorists to grab hold of the story, convinced that an obviously abusive Malik Ali had snapped, concocting and carrying out an elaborate murder-suicide scheme to punish his beautiful wife. Some of them had even come to the—correct—conclusion, that Mia was still alive since her body had never been recovered. It was a theory that had inspired countless people claiming to have “spotted” Mia all over the globe. The same way people still “spotted” Elvis and Tupac.
But no one would spot Mia where they’d gone. On that small island off South Africa where everyone kept to themselves. No one would spot Mia with the nose job she’d followed through on getting like she’d told Linc she would, using the money her security guard friend had helped her hide away for all those years. No one would spot Mia Ali… because she was now living as Dominique White.
In the wake of Malik and Mia’s death, the conspiracy-theory-loving public had turned on Malik in a flash, proving that his marriage to Mia had always been the real lifeblood of his political success. The key to his election to mayor.
It was a fact Linc had always known, which was why he’d chosen her. Little had he known, all that time ago, that the night he’d snatched Mia from that gala in London, he’d been choosing her in more ways than one.
“Where are we going?” Mia cried from the passenger seat of the truck. Her smiling lips proving that her faux-frustration was half-hearted at best. Her hands roamed aimlessly as the blindfold wrapped around her head and shielding her eyes left her almost incapacitated.
Linc’s smiling eyes shone across the truck as he turned the steering wheel to the right, guiding the vehicle to their final destination.
“It’s a surprise, Mia!” Emma cried from the backseat, the stuffed yellow bear lying face down in her lap and the last edition of the Harry Potter series, The Deathly Hallows, dog-eared on the seat next to her.
Linc licked his lips and looked over his shoulder at Emma as he put the car in park. The moment their gazes met, Emma rolled her eyes playfully with a shake of her head that made the high ponytail, which Mia had tied her curls in earlier that morning, dance. Then Emma drew in a heaving breath before exhaling dramatically, as if she was utterly exhausted at how badly Mia was at sitting back and accepting surprises.
“I hate surprises!” Mia screamed, confirming the silent look Linc and Emma were sharing as he pulled the keys from the ignition.
“A’ight, a’ight, we’re here,” he grumbled, throwing open the driver’s side door. “Jesus Christ…”
Unmoved by his playfully judgmental tone, Mia bobbed up and down in her seat as Emma and Linc both hopped out of the truck. Seconds later, the sound of the passenger door opening drew a squeal from her smiling lips, which inspired amused laughs from both Emma and Linc. The sound filled Mia’s ears and warmed her heart.
But not nearly as much as the feeling of Linc’s callused hands on hers. She wondered if there would ever be a day when his touch didn’t send shockwaves zapping through her body as his other hand warmed her upper thigh, just below the hem of her white sundress, and guided her legs out of the car.
“Jump down.” His deep voice filled her ears. “I’ve got you, baby.”
Mia jumped down from the seat, frowning when the bottoms of her sandals hit something hard and crunchy. Asphalt? Concrete?
“The ear buds, Daddy!” Emma’s high-pitched voice floated up followed by the crunch of her own sandals as she hopped up and down. “We forgot the ear buds!”
“Oh, shit,” Linc grumbled, realizing Emma was right and also, apparently, realizing that Emma was six, quickly correcting himself. “I mean shoot.”
A silence fell in, and even though she was blindfolded, Mia could almost see the mischievous grin on Emma’s face.
Linc responded to the grin Mia saw in her head. “You’re not allowed to say that word, a’ight?”
“But you say it all the time, Daddy.”
“Yeah, well—” The rest of Linc’s words were cut off when, suddenly, Mia’s ears were filled with a foamy substance that she could only assume were the ear buds Emma had just finished hollering about.
Then, silence.
Nothing but the dull hum of her plugged ears and the peaceful thump of her heart. That peaceful thump was short-lived, however, when the ground suddenly fell out from under her, and the innate, human fear of falling out of control encased her bones. It was only after she realized she wasn’t falling, but instead, had been swept off her feet, cradled in the strongest pair of arms she’d ever have the pleasure of being swept up in, that her heart calmed down. The smile on her face spread wider. Wider still, when the warmth of his lips was on hers, his soapy scent swooping in. Her stomach bottomed out a little when she felt him bend down with her in his arms, and the softness of a smaller pair of lips was on her cheek too. The scent of the Johnson’s kid’s shampoo she’d massaged into a head of blonde curls earlier that morning filled her nose as well.
After Emma’s sweet kiss, Mia couldn’t help but wonder that perhaps the sympathy she’d once felt for blind people might’ve been a little unfounded. If not for that moment, she’d have never fully understood the power of a soapy scent, of a soft kiss on the cheek, and of the flutter of blonde curls against her skin. She’d have never fully realized the power of all her other senses. The difference between the feeling of being carried across a hard surface and being carried across an uneven one. The feeling of Linc’s breath coming heavier, harder, from where his nose was tucked in her hair, as the ground, for whatever reason, suddenly got more difficult for him to walk on. The hardening of his biceps under her body as he gave all his strength to moving her to wherever he wanted her to be.
To wherever her surprise was.
If Mia hadn’t had that blindfold on, she wondered if the euphoria that washed over her when Linc finally came to a stop and set her to her feet would’ve been as strong as it was at that moment. If the millions of tiny beads that instantly trickled into her sandals and got caked between her toes would’ve stolen her breath the same way it did right then. If the cool shock of moisture that immediately followed suit, wetting the beads and solidifying them between her toes would’ve made the tears sting her still-covered eyes. If the ticklish pop of foaming fizz that trickled up to her ankles before petering away would’ve sent a happiness so powerful through her bones that it nearly took her to her knees.
By the time Linc came up behind her and removed her ear buds—filling the previously silent canal with the music of Emma’s laughter as well as the unmistakable crash of waves—Mia had already traveled almost every spectrum of emotion she was capable of. When he removed the blindfold around her eyes next, revealing the breathtaking turquoise waters of the deserted South African beach, she had already been fully encased in the breathtaking contentment that the sight before her allotted in the deepest depths of her soul.
Mere moments after the vision she’d been begging for during the entire drive up there had been restored, and she was free to drink in the beautiful beach—as well as the sprawling, mossy cliffs that rose into the sky on either side of them—she found herself closing her eyes once more.
“That’s freedom to you? Sand between your toes? That’s it?” Linc grinned.
“And the waves. The waves too. The bubbles against my skin. God, the bubbles.”
As if he could read her mind. As if he could see her revisiting one of the many conversations they’d had when they’d first met, one of the many secrets she’d whispered to him from the deepest pits of her heart, Linc’s arms came around Mia’s waist from behind.
Her eyes fluttered open, a serene smile on her lips, breathing deep at his touch. Her breath came up short, however, when she saw that Linc was holding up a piece of paper in one hand with the other still locked around her waist.
She frowned down at the paper he presented to her, and tears instantly burned her eyes when she realized what she was looking at. A photo of her, at thirteen. The last school photo she’d ever had taken before she’d disappeared from her home in Florida without a trace. A photo that her mother had always hated because of the small piece of flyaway hair that had gotten away from her ponytail. Above the photo in big, bold, bright red letters, there it was:
MISSING
And below the photo:
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?
Ashley Kolinsky
Thirteen years old. African-American. Slim build. Last seen on July 22, 1999, wearing blue jeans shorts and a pink bikini top. If you know where Ashley is, please contact us at (305) 823-4650. If you have any information whatsoever, please call the Miami Police at (305) 603-2834.
Mia’s face crumpled as she read the phone number that she still remembered. The number that was a direct line to the living room of her family’s house. The number she’d once recited excitedly to old friends, new friends, and the first boyfriend she’d ever had in her home in Miami, Florida. A number Linc himself would have no way of knowing or finding out, proving the flyer was legitimate and not just a heartfelt gesture. She slapped a hand over her trembling mouth as her watery eyes dashed over the words in disbelief. She must’ve read them a hundred times, over and over, her mouth falling slowly open behind her shaking hand before her eyes zoomed over her shoulder to Linc, stunned.
Linc shook his head when their eyes met, just as the waves rolled in once more, submerging their feet under the cool waters, the bubbles tickling their skin.
“They never stopped looking for you, baby,” he said, his own voice wobbly with the strength of feeling taking over her face. “They never stopped—”
Mia turned in his arms before he could finish, locking her arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug so furious it took both their breath away. He hugged her just as tightly in return.
She didn’t bother asking him how he’d gotten his hands on that flyer because it didn’t matter. It didn’t even matter that she could never take the risk of going to see her parents, who she now knew had never stopped looking for her because it was too dangerous. Because a trafficked girl who’d escaped the trade could never return home where her captors would always come looking. Willing to draw fatal blood to reclaim what was “rightfully” theirs. At that moment, Mia would have given anything to go home and hug her parents again, and even though she knew she never could, deep down, she still knew she’d be okay.
Because, in a way, she was still home.
Her new home.
As she and Linc embraced, the waves rolled in again, making the sand between her toes shift and move, the bubbles popping against their ankles.
“Thank you,” she whispered into his neck, her trembling voice only causing his hold on her to tighten once more.
“I love you so much, Mia.”
“I love you, too.”
Emma raced up and came in between them, wedging herself into the only space that remained between their tightly sealed bodies—the tight cavern between their calves, and stood tall.
Linc and Mia took the smallest step away from each other to make room for the curly blonde head that had just popped up between them, their laughter rising into the air as they made room for her in the loving hug, as well.
They made room without hesitation. Not just for Emma, but for the yellow stuffed bear she clutched against her chest. The bear that hadn’t left her hands since the moment her father had first handed it to her. The bear that had joined Mia and Linc on their entire explosive journey—from the desperate beginning, the passionate middle, and even the bloody end—before finally landing in the arms of its rightful owner. The rightful owner who’d also landed in the arms of her rightful owners. The two people who would love her, cherish her, and hold onto her just as tightly as she always held onto that bright yellow bear.
Her lifeblood.
Her saviors.
Her family.