Avoid it. Ignore it. Let it heal before you touch it. Drake could think of nothing better.
Hayden and Kinimaka sat at the back of the plane, rows and rows of empty seats between them and the others, ostensibly to plan out their movements in Barcelona.
In truth, mountains were moving.
Hayden twisted her blond hair into a short bob, wrapped herself in an overlarge jacket, and drew her knees up. Kinimaka was droning on about Webb and his clear mortality, and his inability now to stalk them for pleasure.
“It’s over, Mano.” The words were out before she measured them fully. “We need a break.”
The Hawaiian stopped in mid-flow, his face so full of surprise that she hung her head.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t know it was coming.”
“I thought we were concentrating on the mission.”
“Then I guess you were wrong.”
Kinimaka coughed. “You sat all the way back here just to tell me we’re taking a break?”
“Well, maybe, I didn’t want the entire team part of our intimate discussions.”
Kinimaka let out a long breath.
Alicia grunted. “You should lower your voice then.”
Hayden gripped the sides of her seat. “What do you want from me, Mano? We’ve been over it a dozen times. It’s too hard to be together so we should both see how we fare apart.”
“This all started when I wouldn’t let you torture Ramses, right?”
“Stop dramatizing it.”
“Or was it before that?”
“A few times,” Hayden admitted. “I thought you could have stepped up a bit quicker.”
“I’ve always been at your side. Through everything.”
“I know. That’s not what I mean.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kinimaka agreed and shifted in his seat. “Y’know, there’s no ‘taking a break’, Hay. No month-long breathers or time-outs. You bail now, you bail for good. We’re done.”
It wasn’t him, Hayden knew, but the man was hurting. She’d carved a wound and exposed it, dug deeper and analyzed it. The future held… what? More fighting, more hardship.
“Maybe it’s better that way,” she said, not even sure if she believed it. “Maybe.”
He used the seat in front to hang onto as he maneuvered himself out of the seat next to her and walked down the length of the plane. Silence followed their conversation, broken only by the buzz of the plane.
Smyth watched Kinimaka take a new seat and then turned to Lauren. “You wanna end up like those two?”
Lauren spread her hands. “Do you even know what we are now? Right this minute?”
“We fight enough battles,” Smyth said. “Without fighting them between us too.”
“Ya got that right. So why try?”
“You know why. Look at your new boyfriend.”
Lauren pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated. “Is the child in you your leader, Smyth?”
“I see Nicholas Bell as a terrorist trying to save his ass. You see him as someone trying to turn his life around whilst helping out the good guys. I remember you meeting him in that room, dressed as Nightshade. Who’s right?”
Lauren gestured, the New York swagger clear. “Well, I am. Obvious.”
Smyth stayed quiet, the annoyance clear on his face.
Kenzie leaned into Dahl, no doubt trying to make him feel uncomfortable. “All these problems, eh? Bet you’re so glad to be married.”
The Swede tried not to wince, then stared at Kenzie to see if she was taking the proverbial. Hard to tell. She was ex-Mossad and well trained. He elected to stay neutral.
“We all have our problems, Bridget.”
“Oh, calling me by my first name. That spells doom.”
“No. You spell doom.”
“Do you think? After everything I’ve been through — you think I’m damaged beyond repair?”
Shit, Dahl didn’t know and really didn’t want to get too in depth with her as the plane perceptibly began to descend toward Barcelona. He stared hard at the seatback before him. “Everyone gets damaged. It’s how you heal and move on that counts.”
“I regret ever trusting my superiors,” she said. “I regret later choosing an unlawful life. I regret—” she shrugged “—an awful lot. Doesn’t mean I don’t have hopes.”
He met her gaze. “What hopes?”
“Simple ones, for now. Like living and staying free and helping new friends out.” She laughed.
Dahl measured the flippant remarks and still believed he’d initially been right about her. In Kenzie was the soul of a tortured, betrayed individual struggling to overcome something good and true and right. She hid it well, but the Israeli cared for more than just revenge and ancient artefacts.
“I think you’re on the way to redemption then,” he said with an equally offhand laugh, but held her gaze to make sure his words appeared as heartfelt as they were.
I hope for you.
Sounded corny, somehow wrong. But it felt right.
Dahl watched the runway appear below. Barcelona’s night-blanket was giving way to a pre-dawn drizzle. Somewhere down there terrorists might be planning an event just so they could enable Tyler Webb to slip away once more. An event potentially as large as anything they’d yet seen. The road to hell was open and they all walked its ruthless, terrible byways.
Not this time, Dahl thought. We’re a step ahead of you this time.
He hoped.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As they landed and started to disembark, Hayden took a call.
“Argento,” she said before pressing the button.
“I have taken some time to seek out more information on this mysterious group,” he said in a voice loaded with high-spirited Italian reverberations. “They are extremists, fanatics, cracked in the head.”
“My kinda talk.” Drake grinned.
“Terrorists,” Hayden agreed. “And about to take an interest in Barcelona.”
“No, not terrorists,” Argento discharged faster than a cheap battery. “Fanatics yes, but only interested in the welfare of one thing. One agenda. Le Comte de Saint Germain.”
Hayden paused on the edge of the runway, just realizing that Kinimaka had been left to fetch her gear. Shit.
Drake crowded in. “Saint Germain you say? I knew it would be all about that guy. Just knew. I’m sure I mentioned it.”
Dahl shook his head. “Not that I recall, mate.”
“How would you know? Barbados was trying to kill you.”
“Well, not the island. Just some of the people.”
“No hard feelings then, eh?”
But the irrepressible Argento was already forging ahead. “So, we are still continuing our investigations. These people, this cult, is based in Dubai. The figureheads I mean, and it’s unsure if these figureheads are just that, named people, or if they are involved in the day to day running of the…” He paused. “I was going to say cult. Shall we call it a cult?”
“They’re worse than social deviants,” Hayden said. “At least. Let’s call them a cult.”
Argento started to crackle as they entered the airport building. Drake took in the endless panes of ceiling-high glass, the austere corridors and frowning guards. Must be another airport in another country then. But at least it wasn’t drizzling in here. A clock told him it was 10 a.m., still plenty of time to get this thing sorted before kick-off time. He noted that Lauren walked along at his side and smiled.
“You okay?”
“I don’t know,” she said quickly. “I’m beginning to wonder why I’m here, you know? My skillset ain’t exactly crucial.”
Drake shrugged. “You’re a part of the team. Like all of us. Doesn’t matter when you step up so long as you do when the time comes.”