Page 90 of Lash

"We are at an airport," Tatiana says, gesturing around us. "Surely there must be a way to find a ride on an airplane."

"We have to assume Mercado has commercial flights monitored," Solomon answers. "Plus, we'll need our gear. We can't exactly assault without weapons."

At that moment, a compact pickup approaches from the service drive and halts next to our huddle. "I am a friend of Lorenzo Araujo," the driver says—he's a good-looking man of about thirty, with slicked back black hair, a friendly smile but cold eyes; he's wearing Brazilian army fatigues with lieutenant's bars. “He mentioned you may need a ride to Rio."

When none of us answer, he just laughs. "I grew up with Ren in the favelas of Rio. I owe that man my life, and I would do anything for him—and that includes his friends. He told me totell you that Sophia's life depends on a quick reaction, so shut up and trust me. Me meaning me, not him."

Saxon grunts. "Don’t see a choice. What kinda ride you talkin' about, amigo?"

"I am a pilot. I am flying a small transport into Rio, but I have room for a few stowaways." He checks his watch. "I have to be wheels up in twenty, so we must go quickly. Come, follow me,Sí?”

Solomon shrugs. "Alright, ya'll. You heard the man. Let's fuckin' go."

Seatedamong crates and stacked pallets of supplies, we are all clustered and huddled together. Tatiana sits beside me, her head resting on my shoulder. Nearby, Solomon and Scarlett murmur to each other. The others, professionals that they are, stretch out and catch some sleep.

I know Tatiana is not asleep—I know by her breathing, but also I can feel her sorrow like a palpable thing, a cloak resting on her shoulders.

"Perhaps this is a stupid question," I whisper to her in Croatian, "but are you okay?"

She gives a half-lift of her shoulder. "I am still processing the fact that he is really gone. It was just so unexpected. Seeing him like that, Nico…" she shakes her head and turns her face into my shoulder, silently sobbing. "He was all I had. Mama has been gone for years. I never met any of my grandparents—they all died before I was born. I am an only child. The only other people I know are Ana and Katja and Georg—sweet old Georg. And Filip killed them all. It's just so senseless, Nico."

"Hey," I whisper. "I know it is not the same—he was your father. But you are not alone, Lovely One. You are allowed to grieve."

She nuzzles her mouth and nose into the side of my throat, and cups my opposite cheek. "It is very hard to understand so late in life that my father had such a dark side to him he never allowed me to see." A sigh. “It makes grief difficult. I love him. He took care of me. He did his best to protect me. I never, ever doubted that he loved me. But…I went through some very traumatic things because of who he was and what he did for a living. I often hated him for it, even as I loved him. It was very complicated, and now that he is dead, my feelings are even more complicated."

"That is understandable, my love. But…well, I am no expert. But we can hold very complicated emotions within ourselves simultaneously. You can hate what he did and the choices he made and the effects they had on you while also loving the man as your father." I turn my face to kiss the top of her head. “We humans are complicated creatures, Tati. We are fragile yet resilient, wildly intelligent yet extraordinarily stupid. We can love and hate in equal measure, and sometimes those two feelings can be almost indistinguishable. I suppose what I am saying is that there is no right or wrong way to feel."

She lets out a long sigh, her breath washing warm over my neck. "I am so tired of traveling, Nico. I have long since lost track of how long ago it was that I met you in that hangar, and it feels like we have done nothing but fly and drive and run and hide and plan and fight. We barely eat, barely sleep. And all I want is to be alone with you. To have you all to myself."

"It is almost over, Tati. But I do agree—this has been a very overwhelming series of events."

Her voice, already a murmur, drops to a whisper only I can hear, and I have to strain to hear her. "Nico, I need you. We onlyhad those few short hours together—and I honestly don't even remember where we were or how long ago that was. Days? Not even a day? I don't know. I just know I fucking need you, Nico. I have so many feelings and I just—all I want to feel is you inside me. I want to forget everything and everyone else. All the death, all the danger, all the adrenaline. It's done something to me, I think. I have always enjoyed sex, but now, it is aneed. I have tried to keep it reined in because we are never alone. But Nico, my love, I feel like I am losing my mind."

I let out a rough sigh. "Oh, my sweet Tatiana. My emotions have been through a maelstrom since I met you. I feel like I have been turned inside out and upside down, like I have been broken open and my insides washed out with a firehose. But through it all, you have been a constant. Sweet, and loving, and kind, and understanding. Challenging me to see the truth, to let go of the past, to reach for a future I thought had died long ago. I truly did not know it was possible to come to love someone so powerfully in such a short period of time."

Her soft sigh is a hot breath on my cheek. "Oh, my Nico."

For a split second, I almost hear Ileana's voice as Tatiana says those words, the way Ileana said them—oh, my Nico—on a sigh, her sweet breath on my cheek, fingers in my beard. I am disoriented for that split second. But then it passes, and Ileana is gone again.

She lives on in my heart, but her spirit is finally at rest because I have learned to release her. She was not haunting me—I was clinging to her ghost.

I am alive. Tatiana is alive. We are together. That is what matters.

A welter of feelings rushes through me, fills me, percolates in my soul—things I have been setting aside so I can focus on the mission at hand.

Chief among them—desire.

"My god, Tati," I breathe. "What I wouldn't give to have even five minutes of privacy."

She giggles breathily. "Five minutes? Nico, my love, that isn't nearly enough for what I have in mind."

"I know," I murmur, chuckling quietly.

She snuggles closer to me, and her hand comes to rest, almost by accident, on my groin. "Couldn't we find somewhere on this airplane to be even sort of alone?" She whispers. "I need you, Nico. I need to feelsomething, anything—anythingbut this…this…I don't know. I don't know."

I groan. "This is a small cargo plane, Tati. Anywhere we go, we can be heard."

"I can be quiet."