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He touched my hand. “What darkness do you know? I mean other than the Russian problem, which hit Layla. What hurt you, Hope? And a senator’s son?”
I sighed. “They are overrated. Trust me on that.” Technically, we could trace the ruin of Max’s life to that guy, but I wouldn’t go there right now. “And I guess I don’t have darkness. You know me, just a flippant, snarky, bratty girl with too much time on my hands.”
Max groaned and nudged my foot with his own. “Knock it off.”
I grinned at him. “I think we’re landing.”
We were. I stared out the window at the landscape below. Fifteen hours airborne, but it looked like we were really nowhere at all. The view consisted of bleak, desolate landscape with an occasional broken tree and burned-out building. Michael spoke into his phone, a SAT version I suspected wasn’t quite legal, and said a lot of things I couldn’t understand to the person on the other end.
Letters and codes.
“Roger that.” He hung it up. “We may have a problem,” he said to the group. “They moved. They’re actually on the airfield. Not expecting us, but a different group is arriving to take some of the kids and move some drugs. They aren’t going to be happy to see it’s us and not them, although they might not realize why we’re there, initially.”
“How does he know?” I asked Max.
His jawline hardened. “Just be glad he does. Probably some sort of satellite surveillance. Maybe someone quietly whispering on the ground. I don’t want to know. I used to be him. It’s too much shit, and of course, this whole thing is fucked up. It’s always fucked up.”
Mitch yelled out from across the plane. “Bringing back memories, L.T.?”
Max rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Mitchell.” There wasn’t any meanness in his tone. Mitchell sounded downright excited, and I wondered if there was some sort of drive for their kind of work. Adrenaline or something else that made it almost addictive—like people got really excited to jump out of planes or attempt Everest. The need for the rush of being a hero the same as any other drug that people did on the street, only their addiction made them a lot of money too.
Max grabbed his bag and pulled out his guns. Multiple versions. He strapped them to himself and then placed a helmet on my head. “Keep that on.”
“Isn’t this yours?”
“Right now, it’s yours, Hope.” He shook his head, like I’d annoyed him again.
It hadn’t occurred to me that I might need to be armed, but as the wheels hit the ground, I really wished I had reconsidered the situation. Then I remembered Tim. He was out there, maybe on the runway. He knew his parents were dead, leaving him alone in the world with people who did not wish the best for him. Thinking of him—this little boy I barely knew but who needed me—steeled my resolve. He had no choice but to be brave, and certainly I could be brave for him until we were airborne again.
We weren’t stopped long when Michael threw open the door and they were all out on the makeshift tarmac in the middle of nowhere. I glanced out the window and then ducked as Max pushed my head down.
“Do not give them a target.”
None of this had been the plan. We were supposed to land, then encounter the enemy group about twenty miles from the landing point, when the snipers would have the high ground. None of it should happen at the small airport in the middle of nowhere.
Gunfire rang out, and I jerked automatically. I wished it were the first time I’d ever heard it, but I had been there when they rescued Layla. From a distance, but I’d heard it then too. This was different. I’d been terrified then for Layla but not at risk myself. The ping of the bullets hitting the plane was not something I could have prepared myself for.
“Can they…can they break into the plane with their shots? Stop us from taking off?” When I looked out the window, I saw a gathering of men. More than I could count, all standing in a circle. They had us hugely outnumbered. It hadn’t occurred to me that any of us were actually going to die. The stealthy nature of the original plan meant no real risk to my team.
But now? This was really, truly fucked.
Max was ducked down low with me, his very large gun swung over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about that. If they take us down, there won’t be anyone left to take us off anyway.” He squeezed my shoulder. “But I’ve worked with a lot of them, and the ones I haven’t…well, they seem pretty qualified. My guess is this is going to go just fine.”
He thought this was going to gojust fine? “Max…”
“Not everyone out there knows how to fire a gun and end a life. They’ve thought about it, but they haven’t done it. They’re a lot of bullies, picking on small children and women. Everyone here knows how to shoot and move onward. That’s what they’re doing right now.”
Something exploded, and I winced. “I’m sorry about this, Max. Really sorry you’re here when you should be, I don’t know, making a bouillabaisse.”
He laughed, which surprised me. The situation really wasn’t funny. “You know I used to think a lot about food in moments like this? What I’d like to be eating instead of what I was doing. Then I’d stop and concentrate, but it was almost a pregame ritual for me. What would you like to be eating right now, Hope?”
I gaped at him. “I might never eat again.”
15
“Now that would be a shame. Food, you’ve told me, is your favorite thing in life. You can’t give up your favorite thing entirely. If you want to, say, cut one thing out of your diet because of this experience, that is fine. I’ll agree to that and only that. What thing will you be permanently eliminating after today?”
He was trying to distract me, that much I understood. “Is this a technique you’ve used often? To distract someone from the gunfire and explosions happening outside?” I looked away from him. “Tim’s okay, right?”
