“You’ll get us killed,” he growls.
Ignoring him, I move to my knees, open my jacket, and hunch further around the phone to dampen the light it emits. Shakily, I touch the button for one of four numbers I’d programmed in it before I left.
Dominik’s.
I had every intention of calling him, but every day that passed by with no word from him, I became less and less sure of myself.
The phone starts to ring.
I imagine him in the visiting owner’s box at the Cold Fury’s arena. He keeps his phone in the inside pocket of his jacket. He’d pull it out, see it was me calling as it’s hooked to my cell account. Would he wonder why I’d be calling him from Syria in the wee early morning hours?
Would he be concerned?
Please, please answer, Dominik.
But after four rings, his voice mail comes on, and a tiny moan of disappointment slithers out of me.
More gunfire and another explosion that sounds even closer.
It takes forever for his voice mail to play, even though it’s a short, simple message. John snarls for me to hang up again, but I ignore him. Mark remains poised with his rifle aimed into the darkness.
Finally, the tone to indicate it’s time to leave a message goes off. “Dominik… it’s me, and I really, really wish you had answered.”
More gunfire… this time, it’s just a single round.
Perhaps to end someone’s life?
My tone becomes more urgent. “Um… listen, I’m kind of in a tight spot.” Another burst of gunfire, this time definitely closer. I lower my voice. “I have to make this quick, but um… I’m scared. I’m really, really afraid right now and I don’t know what will happen, but I’m mostly afraid I’ll die without you knowing how I feel about you. I just wanted to say… I love you. I should have said yes when you asked me to marry you. It’s the greatest regret of my life, and I need you to know you are my everything.”
There’s another round of gunfire, and now we can hear men shouting.
“Hang the fucking phone up,” John demands, and the terror in his voice breaks through my fog.
I grip the phone hard. “I have to go, Dominik. I love you.”
Disconnecting the phone, I shove it face-first into the dirt to extinguish the light, then flatten myself to the ground beside John.
I feel weirdly satisfied that I accomplished the call. It was necessary for Dominik to know I’m not afraid of him or what he represents. On the contrary, he’s my everything.
And now I have to wait to see what happens.
CHAPTER 28
Dominik
I realize now I have never really appreciated being obscenely wealthy. So many times I’ve taken my money for granted. I’ve often chastised myself for buying the most expensive toys.
But right now, I have never been more thankful. Few private jets can make the ten-plus-hour flight from Raleigh, North Carolina to Istanbul, Turkey, but it just so happens I own one that can.
I had my Gulfstream G650ER gassed and ready to leave within an hour of receiving Willow’s call.
My stomach rolls even thinking about when I’d decided to listen to her voice mail. I saw her call during the game and even thought about answering it, but I’d still been set on punishing her. I’d put on an act, as if I didn’t need her. That if I was so unimportant she would leave to take on a dangerous assignment in Syria, then she could get a little taste of the same back.
It was the second worst mistake of my life, the first being letting her get away at all.
It was a shitty night all around. The Vengeance lost game six to the Cold Fury, setting us up for a final showdown back in Phoenix. I didn’t bother listening to her voice mail until after the game ended. Everyone had cleared out of the visiting owner’s box, and I’d been on my way out when I couldn’t stand it any longer. I simply had to hear what she had to say after six days of silence since she’d left for Syria.
I almost threw up when I heard her voice.
The terror in it.
The gunfire in the background.
The way she was whispering so her voice wouldn’t carry.
Some man snarling for her to hang up.
And then those words I’d thought would make me the happiest man in the world… I love you.
I couldn’t even fucking appreciate them because when that message was over, all I could think was the woman I loved could very well be dead even as I listened to her words.
But money is power… and power means connections. I took an Uber to the airport while Mrs. Osborne worked her magic. Before I even boarded my plane, I had a US Senator on the line while I tried to figure out where the fuck Willow was.
We were somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean when I found out the details of what happened. She was embedded with some forces that were making a hostage rescue attempt. It wasn’t her original assignment, but one she jumped on when it came available. I wanted to hate her for that decision, but I promised myself if she were still alive, I’d forgive her anything.
We were an hour from landing in Istanbul when I got word Willow was safe and sound, which was a God-given miracle considering some of the people she was with had been killed. I didn’t know whether to hug her or shake her when I saw her, but Istanbul wasn’t my final destination. It appeared Willow and some of the crew she was with had been rescued and extracted to the Incirlik Air Base in Adana, Turkey, where she was currently being debriefed by U.S. officials. Reports said she was in good shape but definitely shaken up.
Yeah… I’d forgive her for everything.
My plane touched down in Istanbul. It took roughly thirty minutes to refuel, but there were no further delays to get back in the air as my senator friend had already gotten my plane clearance to land at Incirlik.
I’m now in a military Jeep being chauffeured to some building on the large airbase that’s shared by both U.S. and Turkish air forces. As I’m led down a hallway toward a closed door at the end, I know Willow is on the other side.
I can feel her.
The airman opens the door for me, and I step through. Willow is at a window with her back to me. She turns, eyes widening in disbelief as she takes me in. My gaze sweeps down her. She has on a white tank top and khaki shorts with a bandage wrapped around her knee, but she looks healthy and whole.
I stop when I see that beautiful fucking face, and we just stare at each other for several long moments.
And then she’s flying toward me, gimpy knee and all, and, at last, she’s in my arms where I swear I’m never going to let go of her ever again.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice muffled since I’ve lifted her off the floor and her face is buried in my neck.
My hand goes to the back of her head. “You seriously didn’t think I wouldn’t come get you after that voice mail you left, did you? Seriously, Willow… I can think of better ways to get my attention.”
She barks out a choking laugh, pressing closer to me. Weaving my fingers into her hair, I grip a handful to pull her head back so I can see her face. “So you love me, huh?”
“God… do I ever,” she says with a groan, then plasters her mouth to mine.
It’s a kiss that represents long days of repression and loss, all coming out to cleanse both of our souls. It’s soft and gentle and then it’s gone, her face buried in the crook of my neck once more.