I know him, however, and he’s barely holding it together. He’s a taut wire, stretched so tight it hums and vibrates. His eyes betray his emotions, at least to me—they’re guarded, closed off, hard. Every muscle is tight, tensed—I feel it in him as we head to the roof, for my private aircraft which will take us to the airfield.
The flight to the airfield is both brief and endless at the same time—brief because the jet is quick and our private airfield is close, and endless because we’re silent and tense, lost in our thoughts.
The jet touches down some twenty feet away from the larger aircraft, which is already idling. We board, take our seats beside each other near the front of the ten-passenger plane. Four armed A1S guards follow us on board, having followed in a separate helicopter; they’re plainclothes guards, dressed in jeans and combat boots with black T-shirts underneath A1S-logoed bulletproof vests, carrying subcompact machine guns, with black A1S ball caps and wraparound mirrored sunglasses. They’re young men, intensely fit and highly trained. They space out, two behind us and two in front, standing until the captain announces take-off, and then they sit, buckle, and wait.
The flight to New York is long. There’s nothing to say, and it passes in tense silence.
We’re making our approach to the private airfield Daddy owns outside of NYC.
Apollo snorts abruptly. “I’m more nervous about meeting my cousins and telling them I’m the reason their daughter is gone than I am to walk into that warehouse.”
“I know.” I hold his hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
“They’re going to hate me. And rightfully so.”
“They won’t hate you. They might be confused. Upset. Scared. But no one could have foreseen this. And we’ll get her back, Apollo. If there’s one person in this world I have total and unwavering faith in, it’s Uncle Harry. He won’t stop until that little girl is safe. And then, she’ll never know that kind of danger again.”
“It’s my fault.” His voice is miserable.
“You stayed away from them specifically to prevent this from happening, Apollo. Self-recrimination won’t help you, them, or anyone.” I squeeze his hand, hard. “You’re a good man.”
“Now.” A bitter sigh. “Not always.”
A pause in the conversation as the tires bark with our landing, the rush of air as we slow. A short taxi to the hangar, and then we stop. One of the guards opens the door and the stairs descend to the ground. The guards exit and take up position around the stairs and the waiting SUV.
“We’ll be right out,” I say, to the last guard as he ducks under the opening.
“Ma’am.” His acknowledgment is a grunt and a nod.
I unbuckle and move onto Apollo’s lap. Wrap my arms around his neck. “Hey.”
He brings a smile to his lips, love in his eyes as his hands cradle my hips. “Hi.”
“Have faith, Apollo. It’s going to be okay.”
“Faith.”
“In yourself. In Harris and his team. In who you are now.”
He sighs, a heavy exhale, closes his eyes, inhales slowly, and then opens his eyes and nods. “You are right, of course.” A tentative smile. “I can face a boardroom full of grumpy, wealthy old men. I can face bloodthirsty gangsters and kingpins—I can face my own family.” A wry grin. “And, for better or worse, in many ways Iammy mother’s son, and my grandfather’s—when need be, I can be very…unpleasant. And these men, whomever they are, have endangered an innocent life. Anyone in the way of Yelena’s safety will feel my wrath.”
I bury my face in his neck. “That’s what I want to hear, Apollo my love.”
“I just…I had thought I left behind that part of myself. You know?”
“That part of you is stillpartof you. And it doesn’t scare me, when you summon it for good. You can be terrifying—to the bad guys. Right?”
A nod, and then he stands up, setting me on my feet without letting go of me; he pulls me closer, tugs me against him. Cups my face in his hands. “Thank you, Corinna.”
I lift up and kiss him. “Always.” Another kiss, brief, soft. “Now. Let’s go meet your family.”
2
No Matter What
We pull to a stop at the curb in front of a modest apartment building in a decent enough section of Brooklyn. Our trio of custom, armored, hyper-luxury SUVs draws attention even on the high-money streets of downtown Manhattan. Here? They may as well be an alien spacecraft. People stop on the sidewalk and stare, cars slow to a crawl, windows sliding down to show openly curious and shocked eyes. I can feel them wondering who we are.
We wait until the rear vehicle parks behind us and disgorges two of our guards, two more exiting the foremost vehicle. A pair of guards waits with the small fleet, and the other two escort us to the door of the apartment building; the guards flank us, weapons carried openly and at the ready, relaxed but hyper-alert, heads on a swivel, eyes constantly roving.
