Page 19 of West Bound

“Ignore her.” Levi dismisses the man, but he slaps a hand over my mouth and drags me toward the back of the plane. We’re through a door, and I’m tossed onto a bed before I know what’s happening.

“What are you doing?” I look around at what appears to be a private bedroom, styled and decorated in the same detail-oriented manner as the man who wants me dead.

“Giving us the opportunity to talk this out in private. You won’t have a chance to worry about your husband killing you if you continue pissing off everyone else in your wake.” A muscle in Levi’s jaw ticks in frustration. It seems like he’s almost as worried about his companion’s temper as I am.

“Do you work with him?”

“He’s a colleague. Yes.” He’s impatient with my questioning.

“He looks like a murderer.”

“Good guess.”

I glare at him. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were a priest.”

“And you had me believing you were a nun. Now we’re even.”

“I’m working toward it. I live like I am one. You clearly don’t.” My eyes drift over him, trying to reconcile the two versions in my mind. The affection that had been slowly growing for him is tainted by this series of discoveries.

“That’s what you’re upset about right now?” He pulls his glasses off and cleans a smudge on the corner of his shirt before he returns them to his skeptical face.

“It’s on the list.”

“Let’s focus on the top priorities. You have a husband who will allegedly kill you for leaving the convent?”

“He’ll kill you. Me? I don’t know, but he’ll certainly make me wish I were dead.” I feel sick if I ruminate on the thought too long.

“Why?”

“Because our agreement was that I live out my life as a nun on the island, and in exchange, he’d leave me alone.”

His eyes flick over me in curiosity. Like he’s seeing me in a new light.

“You don’t like him then?” It’s rhetorical.

“What gave it away?” I meet his sarcasm. If we’re going masks off, we might as well stop pretending altogether.

“And what about your father? Couldn’t he get you out of it?” he asks. I guess that answers one question. Part of me had worried he was working for one of them. But one mystery solved only creates a dozen more in its wake.

“Is that who you’re after?” I frown.

“He’s certainly high on the list.”

“If you think I can help you get to him, I can assure you, you’re absolutely mistaken.”

“Oh, I think he’d be interested to know I’ve got his daughter.”

“Interested, maybe, but not invested. You think a father who cares about his daughter marries her off to a monster?”

He flinches. It’s there and gone in a flash, but I don’t miss it, and I log that information for later.

“I haven’t thought about it at all. Ten minutes ago, I thought you were a chaste little nun. So embarrassed she couldn’t stop having dirty dreams that she confessed it to a stranger.”

“The confessional is supposed to be a sacramental sanctuary.” I’m offended by how callously he brings it up.

“And if I had been a real priest, it might have been.” He lobs my words back at me.

“So what then? You’ll use it against me? Assuming your friend out there isn’t going to kill me? Do you want my father’s money? A say in his politics? He won’t budge. Not for me.” I wish he understood how little I was worth to that man. Maybe then he’d let me go.