I run all those pieces through my head, then nod, figuring if I don’t have it straight, it will all become clear soon. “Go on.”
“Apparently Felicia fell for one of those men—a guy named Mikal Safar. And Felicia followed him back home.”
“And Daddy was pissed.”
“Exactly.”
“So far this is an interesting little soap opera, but I’m still not sure how you being married to someone before me fits in.”
“I told you. I’m getting there. Okay?”
“Fine. Go on. I just want to get to the part where my husband has another wife.”
He ignores my words and my snipey tone. I can’t say I blame him.
“Not too long after Felicia followed Mikal, rebels overthrew the government.”
“Oh, my God.”
He nods, then moves to sit on the couch beside me. He’s close enough to touch, but he doesn’t reach for me. And I cling tight to my pillow.
“Her father hired Gerard—”
“Your boss, right?”
“Yes. And Gerard sent me. It was supposed to be a simple mission. Get in, find the girl, get out. And it would have been, too, except we didn’t know one thing.”
I shake my head, wrapped up in the story despite myself.
“Mikal was the son of one of the country’s leaders.”
“Okay. So?”
“The same day I arrived in the country, Mikal and his father were murdered, and Felicia was on the run.”
My mouth drops open but no words come out.
“She was young. Early twenties, and pretty naive. She managed to get a call through to her father, and Gerard got through to me. Suddenly my easy escort job was a full-blown rescue mission, smuggling out the girlfriend of a man the rebels had just executed.”
“What did you do?”
“Whatever I could. The first days were chaos, and I managed to get us on a train heading toward the demilitarized zone.”
“And you fell in love with her?” My throat is dry as I ask the question. I knew Ryan a long time before we got together, and I know he went out with various women. But I never got the impression that he was serious about anyone. I suppose I projected what I saw in our present into his past.
Still, if there’d been another woman he’d loved, I wish he’d have told me.
“I didn’t love her,” he says, making me frown.
“Then—oh, shit. Ryan, did she get pregnant? Do you have—”
I can’t even say the words. Not that long ago, Nikki and Damien had faced the possibility that Damien had fathered a son. Nikki had dealt, but she’d been twisted up inside. I thought at the time I understood. Now I really got it.
“Do I have a child?” His brows rise and there’s so much surprise in his voice that I immediately sag with relief.
“You don’t. Thank God.”
“I married her because it was the only way we had a shot at getting home. We were able to get on that train only because we were married and both from out of the country. And time was of the essence because we knew that soon the rebels would start taking Americans and Brits hostage.”
“But didn’t they know she’d come with Safar?”
He nods. “The chaos helped. And she worked in her father’s business. We said it had been a business trip. Not personal. And we lied and said that I’d been in the country all along doing work of my own.”
“So it was just a marriage of convenience?”
He nods.
“So nothing physical?” I remember the words of that text—our last kiss—and hope that was all there was.
“We slept together once,” he says, shattering that hope. “The night of our wedding. We were both emotional wrecks. We—I guess you could say we needed each other. Jamie,” he continues, his voice going low and soft. “I don’t regret it. This was a long time before you, and we were both terrified. That night sealed us to each other. And honestly, it added a sheen to our lie. Not only that, but—” He breaks off with a shake of his head.
“What?”
For a moment I don’t think he’s going to answer. Then he draws in a breath, looks me straight in the eye, and says, “She was a virgin. And, well, considering everything, I didn’t regret that night at all. Now, honestly, I don’t know what to think.”
“Oh.” I rub my palms down the soft material of the pillow I’m holding, not sure I understand what he means by that last part.
For that matter, I’m not sure how I feel about any of this.
“At any rate, the bottom line is that what should have been a simple escort scenario turned out to be something out of a goddamn action movie.”
“But the idea was that you’d get a divorce when you got back home, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“But you didn’t.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“No.” I watch as his face turns gray, as if the memories are sucking the life from him. “I didn’t think there was a need.”
Before I can ask what he means, he continues. “She’s dead. Or I thought she was.”
“I don’t understand.”
“To get out, we had to cross a militarized zone by train. The train was attacked. I tried—” His voice breaks. “I tried to protect her. But I failed. It was me against over a dozen men in a raiding party. I ended up with three broken ribs and a bullet in my side. You’ve seen the scar.”
I nod, completely shell-shocked.
“She was killed. Shot in the chest and shoved off the train into a raging river. There was no way she could have survived.”
“Ryan, I’m sorry.”
The hint of a smile flickers on his lip and he squeezes my hand. I look down, not realizing until then that I’d reached for him.
“I’d failed in the one thing I was supposed to do—protect her. And an innocent woman was dead.”
I clutch his hand tighter. “But she’s not?”
He hesitates, then moves closer and takes the other hand, too. “Three days ago, I got a text from someone who insisted I meet her at a pub but wouldn’t leave her name.”
“It was her?”
“Maybe. I got there but the woman was gone. She’d left a note for me. All it said was I’m sorry.”
“That she stood you up.”
He shakes his head. “Maybe. That’s what I thought at first. But I was concerned. Considering my line of work, this woman could be in trouble. Or setting me up. I had Baxter pull footage from nearby cameras.”
“And you recognized her? It was Felicia?”
“I always knew I married a smart woman.”
I give him a playful smack, but I’m not irritated. I’m scared and a little freaked, but I’m not upset. Not like I was. Now I just want answers. The same ones Ryan wants. “It was her, wasn’t it?”
“The video wasn’t conclusive, but I saw enough to say for certain that it damn sure looks like the woman I knew.”
“The woman you saw die,” I say.
“Or not die.”
I shiver and tug my hand back, then clutch the pillow again. “She’s alive. But how?”
“That’s the question. The section of the river the bridge crossed was wild and remote. That’s part of what made it such an effective border. No one could survive that fall without help or a miracle, especially not in her condition. If it was a miracle, well, good for her. But if it was help, I don’t think it was from a Good Samaritan. Unpopulated and impoverished? Who would have had the ability to get sufficient medical care for her?”