Page 77 of Bastard

“We are fine, girl. Everybody is well.”

Tears fill my eyes by the time I step away. Hayden slides his arm across my shoulders and tugs me into his side. I’m so shocked by his actions, my tears immediately dry up.

“Where is the boy?” Mustafa asks him.

I feel my forehead crinkle. Why is she asking Hayden? Is it that she doubts his intentions? I can’t blame her if she does. He might be casually dressed in camouflage-army pants, a skintight, black T-shirt, and work boots, looking ten times hotter than any normal man. But Hayden could be standing here in his underwear and still give off an “I’m in charge” vibe.

“Donovan? Gone,” he firmly replies.

I frown. Gonees correcto—the man beside me made sure of it. “He returned to Iceland,” I softly add.

“Girl, this old soul was worried those men might hurt you. I sent a prayer of hope for you. And the Lord heard it because, the very next day, a stranger was whispering in my ear that you both were fine.”

I lean into Hayden. He arranged for word to be sent.

Mustafa’s eyes glimmer, not missing a thing. Her attention fixes on his arm around me. A few seconds pass until she makes a clucking sound. “I am surprised that boy would leave you. He loved you so.”

Hayden snorts. “Now he can love her from afar.” His arm tightens around me, causing me to glance up at him. But, as usual, it’s impossible to read his expression.

Mustafa beams, seeming to read something in him I can’t see. “I have heard so very little about you.”

“Is that so? I’ve heard a lot about you, Mustafa.”Finalmente.Hayden has met his match. “You have a sweet tooth.” He removes his arm and I feel an immediate sense of loss. The box he’s been carrying is placed on the ground and a switchblade drawn from his pocket. Villagers murmur at the sight of it, and eye him warily as he slices along the seam.

He waves Mustafa forward. “A gift. Inside are soups, spices, and candy. More boxes will soon arrive with dry goods. Rice, corn, beans, oil, flour, and sugar.”

“Candy?” I laugh at Mustafa’s expression of pure bliss. “Someone’s tonguehasbeen rattling about me.”

Tight-Lipped told him of the village matriarch’s love of candy, didn’t he? Suddenly, the big talker. What else did he share with Hayden?

Mustafa waves a finger at the smug man next to me. “Acht. You trying to win me with candy, honey?”

“I’m not trying to win you over,” he replies, his tone a soft rumble.

“No?”

“This is a thank you for taking care of Luciana.”

What?

Mustafa’s dark brown eyes grow wide. And in this moment, it’s clear Hayden has won her approval. “My girl can be a tigress,” the eighty-plus-year-old traitor adds, “and hard to tame.”

“She’s standing right here,” I grind out.

“My name is Hayden.” He offers her his hand and without hesitation, Mustafa’s slips hers in his for a shake.

“Let’s open the other one, Luciana. There’s something other than candy inside it.”

Now I’m curious. About the contents. About why he’d share his real name when his life revolves around secrecy.

He slides the knife across the seam and pulls back the cardboard flaps.

A hush settles over the villagers.

I lift a round piece of plastic that resembles a flat, collapsible colander from inside. Everyone’s attention is fixed on it as I stretch the pipe wide like I’m playing an accordion. The small box is filled with similar pieces.

“Expandable piping,” Hayden explains. “It’s easier to ship and install. We can use it to connect the main water pipe to the village. We’ll dig a trench to lay it in.” He taps the toe of his boot on the ground next to the box. “When we’ve finished, there’ll be a main water source right here. It’ll be a temporary fix until wells can be drilled.”

He did this? With a snap of his fingers, he’s put into action what I proposed to UWC—that pipes should be laid to bring fresh water into Nmimpi. I choke back a sob. Clean, accessible water will improve everyone’s lives tremendously. And, as I glance around through tear-filled eyes, it’s obvious the villagers know it.