Neva is awakened with a kiss atop her head and a murmur that they've arrived.
Unable to secure a good nap because of the wet clothes clinging to her, the lucid dreams of gunfire, the animalistic-faced guards, drowning in stinging cold water, she stirs easily and, half-befuddled, opens the Aston Martin's door and steps out.
She shudders the moment the pine-scented wind pricks against her cheeks, her arms wrapping around herself as Rhett steps out. He takes her hand and leads her past the few cars parked on either side of them, towards Walmart, the green hills behind it almost completely veiled by mist in the distance.
Ace, as she has heard the good-looking, light-brown-haired man being called, whistles behind them.
Glancing over her shoulder, she catches the greyish-blue-eyed man's gaze.
He stops whistling and smiles at her, his hands tucked into his jeans pockets,
and she worries for him, as he's wearing only a light blue T-shirt, his jacket borrowed by her.
Warmth greets her as they step inside Walmart, and they head straight towards the clothing section.
"Get whatever you need for now," he says, skimming through the racks of women's sweaters.
"We can shop properly later."
Instead of helping him choose her clothes, she pulls off her damp leather jacket and folds it neatly.
"Can you give it back to him? Tell him I'm grateful."
Two thick knitted sweaters, one dusty pink and the other cream, in hand,
he turns to face her. "I will. Which one do you like?"
A small smile feathers her lips despite herself, for he's chosen two of the prettier sweaters suited go her taste and comfort amongst the less agreeable ones.
"Pink," she answers,
exchanging the sweater for the leather jacket after he puts the unchosen one back on the rack.
He moves towards the ladies' trousers section, and she steps towards the opposite side, further down the aisle, looking for fresh, comfortable underwear.
"Angel?" A hint of fear slips into his voice, making
her halt mid-step and turn to meet his anxious gaze.
"Yes?" she asks softly. "I'm not going anywhere."
He lets out a deep breath. "Stay where I can see you."
Nodding, she peruses a few bras and settles on a beige-coloured T-shirt bra and a couple of cotton panties, before the realisation strikes her of the
utter irony of shopping while they had almost been killed by bullets, accidents, or the freezing river.
Her heart stutters as a hand rests against her lower back, and before she can react, she realises it's him.
"Which one?" He displays two pairs of fleece-lined trousers, one pink and the other cream, for her to choose from. This time, she chooses the latter.
He places the trousers in her shopping basket alongside the pair
of socks and gloves. "You need a pair of shoes."
"What about you?" she asks, worried by the paleness of his skin, even if some colour is returning to his lips.
Before he can reply, Ace approaches them in a new blue-and-yellow varsity jacket.
"Boss, would you do me a favour?"
"Do whatever you like," he mutters.
Grinning,
Ace slips off his jacket and places it in her shopping basket. "Thanks. I'll go get us some hot chocolate."
"I'll go get the shoes," she says, glancing towards the shoe section tucked into a corner just beyond the underwear section. "You can get what you need."
"I'll be quick," he says, and she nods, making her way towards the shoe section.
Just as she's finished trying on the white shoes, he returns with his essentials and places them in the basket beside her.
"Are you done?" he asks, surveying the racks for a pair of shoes for himself.
"I am," she replies,
slipping her foot out of the shoe as he chooses a pair of ankle-length boots for himself.
"Then we'll go to the checkout." He takes the shopping basket from her before they head towards the counter, Ace joining them halfway with five takeaway hot chocolates he'd already paid for.
"Thank you," she says, accepting a cup.
Ace winks at her. "The pleasure's all mine."
She offers him a smile before sipping the hot chocolate through a straw, its warmth spreading through her,
as her fiancé settles the bills for their purchases.
He gestures towards the ladies' changing room right ahead. "Go get changed. I'll meet you right here."
With the new clothes in her shopping bag and
her half-finished hot chocolate in her other hand, she heads towards the ladies' changing room.
Thankfully, there's no crowd, given that there are only two changing rooms, one of which is already locked.
Even though she's dying to change her clothes, after locking the door, she presses a finger against the mirror, for old instincts rarely die. Making sure there's no perverted trick behind the public mirror, she slips off her damp clothes and pulls on the new ones.
Once she's snug and fully dressed, the smell of chemicals and dyes still
clinging to her new clothes, she dumps her wet ones into the shopping bag, her thoughts drifting towards why her fiancé acts as though nothing has changed.
No. Not as though nothing has changed. The incident has visibly shaken him too. But why doesn't he bring up how they were rescued by these
people, or how he rescued her again and again?
No normal man could manoeuvre through such strange and terrifying circumstances, and now that she thinks back, he seemed completely natural.
Pulling the door open, she finds a woman in her mid-thirties or forties waiting outside, a bunch of clothes in a blue shopping basket as she prepares to try them on. Her fiancé, now changed into a cream-and-grey bomber jacket, a pair of jeans and boots, stands waiting in the very spot where he'd told her he'd wait.
Returning to the red Aston Martin,
Rhett opens the boot of the car and places the carrier bag containing their wet clothes inside.
The engine rumbles to life, and she waits for him to get in first before climbing onto his lap. With the lack of seats, shyness earns no place, even with three strangers around them, who are entirely human, yet truly are blessings from her dear Heavenly Father.
Sky, whom she now knows to be the golden-blonde-haired woman, doesn't seem to mind, absorbed
in her laptop with a white headphone over one ear.
"Everyone comfortable back there?" Ace asks.
"Drive." Rhett closes the door with a hum before Hunter, the driver, a tanned, quieter man, nods.
As the car takes off, she contentedly nestles into him, her face buried in the crook of his neck as she takes him in, his strong, familiar arms wrapped around her.
She can't help but wonder about the queer names: Sky, Ace, Hunter. Not that they're bad names. But they awfully sound as though they're only alternative names, nicknames, or rather, codenames.
But for what?
"Anything on the convoy?" Rhett asks.
"Heading east. We've lost them for now," Sky replies. "I've cleared our digital trail, too."
"Take us to the lodge near Roslyn Dale," he says. "Keep to the back roads. We stay there until tonight."
A moment passes before Ace speaks again. "So, what's the plan? We getting you a flight out, or should we arrange a cruise?
Does Elk know you're disappearing? And, more importantly, why is Raka hunting your girlfriend? Sky hasn't exactly been generous with the details."
"Because it's none of your business," Sky interjects.
"I can't help it," Ace replies. "Apologies if I've hurt any feelings."
Her fingers clench around the cup of hot chocolate as the voices, mainly those of Ace and Sky, grow muffled and muddled, and she drifts off to sleep.
When she stirs awake, it's to the sensation of being lifted into a pair of familiar arms. Home against his embrace, she dazedly slips in and out of sleep as he carries her towards what seems to be a lodge.
How long has it been since she fell asleep?
The world already is darkened, but is that because of the coniferous woodland surrounding the lodge nestled against it?
How could she have drifted off so senselessly?
She insists on being lowered to her feet as Ace and Sky approach the counter to collect the room keys from the lodgekeeper,
a beautiful blue-eyed calico cat perched before him.
Sky places one of the keys in her hand. "It's yours."
"Thank you." Neva notices the number 12 engraved on the metal key.
"We move at five." Rhett's voice is low and firm. "Stay alert."
"Roger that," Ace says. "Have a good rest, Boss."
As they ascend the stairs, she glances back at the three assembled in the lobby: Ace, crossing his arms as he speaks with Sky, while Hunter sits on the sofa.
Crossing the narrow corridor illuminated by crystal lanterns, she's reminded of the inn they'd left behind early that morning, and how much has happened since then. What else is there for her to unravel?
At the end of the hallway is their room.
He's turning the key in the lock, and it all feels like a recurring scene in a movie.
He switches on the lights with a quiet click, and she heads straight for the bed, a little bigger than the one at the inn but without a canopy of curtains.
A hand seizes her elbow, and she's whirled around until she collides with the solid warmth of his chest. In the span of a heartbeat, his lips are on hers, the kiss undoing her knots, igniting her cold bones, even as she's perplexed by the intensity of his hunger.
Before she realises, they're tangled in the bed, his lips exploring her neck as soft gasps escape her.
Feverish and fallen into a reverie, her senses are clear enough for her to register the rough warmth of his hand gliding against her bare waist.
Pushing him off by his chest, she meets his darkened gaze, softening with worry at the sight of her.
"Angel," he says softly.
"What does it all mean?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Who are they?"
He doesn't reply.
"I asked, who are they?"
"I thought I lost you."
"Stop evading me."
His expression remains calm, unreadable, which only increases her discomfort and confusion over what he's hiding.
"Tell me," she whispers.
"My colleagues," he replies.
Colleagues... "How?"
With a sigh, he rolls off to lie down beside her.
"They're agents of EIS. Field operatives. To be exact."
A heavy numbness spreads through her.
"They call you Boss."
"I've trained some of them. I lead the team on most operations."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Silence.
"Why?"
"Angel..."
Her body feels so hot and heavy. "You're a complete stranger to me now."
"I'm sorry," he says.
She feels dazed, but starkly present, hot and cold, floating and drowning all at once.
"Wasn't I mature enough to be trusted?" she asks.
"Or did you never intend anything real with me?" she goes on, memories drifting through her. "Am I only a plaything, like the boys and girls
on campus who treat relationships as casual flings?
"What on earth are you talking about?" A hint of frustration seeps into his voice.
"What does your job demand of you that you've had to hide it from me? Would I have been a fool to
marry into a lie, waiting for you to come back from those business trips you take so frequently?"
She wants to be away from him, but it's as though all her strength has somehow vanished.
"I'm sorry, Angel," he murmurs, his voice weak and muffled. "I'm so sorry."
She doesn't say anything.
"I was afraid," he says, holding her tighter. "I was afraid you wouldn't want me if you knew what my work involves.
The people I had to kill and the things I've had to—"
"You've had to what?" she cuts him off.
She knows intelligence officers or spies may require to engage in some manners of morally compromising activities in the course of their work.
She's not a saint herself, but she should have had the right to know what she was getting herself into.
Bile rises in her throat.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he echoes, his tears wetting her skin.
He's stabbed her with a dagger, and she's foolishly pulling it from her ribs, no matter how much she bleeds.
"Was anything between us even real?"
"Of course, Angel," he breathes. "Everything is real."
"I thought you were different." Then she asks him the most harrowing question. "Did your job ever involve anything inappropriate with other women?"
He stiffens against her.
He knew her. He knew her. Still
"What?" he asks.
"You know me—" she swallows. "Yet you lied to me—"
"No, Angel." He lifts his tear-streaked face to look at her. "You think I've been—"
His voice softens. "Is that why you're so upset?"
"You said I was the only one," she whispers, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"You are the only one, Angel," he assures,
wrapping her in his embrace. "You were the only one, and you will be the only one for me. Always."
"I can't trust you," she murmurs, her face pressed against his chest as she draws in shallow breaths.
"Trust me this time, Angel." He presses a kiss into her hair.
"I promise it won't happen again. I was debating leaving the agency anyway. And you shouldn't worry about being compared to other women."
She wants it to be the truth. Oh, she does.
"My father was an agent as well." His fingers gently move through her hair in a soothing motion. "Even after my mother's death, he stayed loyal to her."
Her fingers weekly curl around his jacket.
"He believed true love only comes once," he says. "I hadn't initially planned on finding myself a lover or getting married. But you revealed
things about myself I didn't even know were there.
"When I said I knew you were my wife when I first saw you, I meant it, Angel. It was something out of this world." He presses another kiss to her hair.
"You are so much more to me than you realise."
"I love you," he murmurs. "Please forgive me.
I will never keep anything from you again."
"You've never been with other women before?" she asks quietly.
She has never been with another man but him, and she doesn't want to settle for someone who doesn't share her values and beliefs.
"You're the only one." Yet, attempting lightness, he jokes, "I didn't know you could be so jealous, Angel."
She remains silent, and his hold only tightens around her, pulling her impossibly closer.
She yields into him, of course.
For she's already too much in love, stupid in love even if he's hidden such a vast, important part of his life from her.
If someday, something were to happen to him on one of his missions, without her ever knowing.
What would she have done then?