Not that I’m complaining; I like staff with little family or friends. It’s just easier that way. Gwen’s cockface ex has done me a huge favor.
“I haven’t had chance to thank you yet for your hard work these past few days. It’s very much appreciated.” I pause to lower my voice. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, actually.”
“Just doing my job, sir.”
“It’s Aeron. Only Harvey calls me sir, and that’s because he’s missing his Domme already.”
She presses her lips together, trying not to smile.
Oh God, it’s too easy. Somebody reel me in…I wasn’t even joking about Harvey. Or at least I suspect I wasn’t.
“I’ll need you to keep an eye on my emails while we’re out here,” I tell her, “but otherwise, do yourself a favor and relax. I don’t know what’s up, but I can see you’re not quite right, so…” I manage a non-threatening, lop-sided smile. “Enjoy the sunshine.”
“Right.” She swallows. “Uh, thanks.”
“I know it’s hard being away from family, especially at such short notice. And especially when you won’t be able to contact them until it’s safe. But we’re a friendly bunch.” I give her a slight nudge with my elbow. “Leo actually came out to chat to you, but Ash has a habit of monopolizing people’s attention.”
“Leo seems nice. What I’ve seen of her, I mean.”
When she’s not shooting people, she’s quite personable.
“She could use a friend, all the shit she’s been through.” I almost throw in it’s lonely at the top, but stop myself at the last second. Must ham the fuck down. “And while we may be running for our lives…at least we’re hiding in paradise, huh?”
She brightens, looking up to reach for her water bottle. “I’ve been a couple times before. Not to this island—I mean, there are hundreds of them—but you’ll like it. You’re literally in the middle of nowhere. I think…I think we’ll be okay.”
“We’ll be fine. It’s the media I’m worried about. When we’ve landed, you can let me know what the damage is like.”
She gulps down a heavy mouthful of water. “Um, I…”
“What?”
“I was going to ask you not to shoot the messenger.” She puts a hand over her eyes. “Oh my God.”
I lean in to whisper conspiratorially. “I’d laugh, but she might hear me and get all trigger happy all over again.” I’m the guy who can joke about his girlfriend’s little accident. I forgive and forget; I move on.
Like that ever did anything for anyone. Moving on is for lazy fuckers who’d like to pretend that action exists without consequence, and that resentment fades with time.
“We’ve got around five hours until we land, correct?”
“Correct,” she replies.
“I think you should get drunk.”
She narrows bloodshot eyes at me. “I don’t drink.”
“I bet you do.”
“I’ll fall asleep. I’ll probably…drool.”
“Drool away. We’re about to enter the world’s most luxurious witness protection program—who gives a fuck?”
***
Hours later, we touch down in Male.
The heat here slaughters your senses. You feel it pushing down on your chest—surprisingly light, like the touch of an innocent—but you feel it, nonetheless. You see it bouncing off the shiny black hair of the locals; look into the sky and it’s blinding. And God, you can smell it. Everything is gently roasted here—the wooden walls of the small airport, the sand underfoot.