Chapter Nineteen
Kira
How did Ty do it?
Kira had now been in three violent events with life or death consequences, and Kira understood that in the moment of confrontation, she was a hundred percent present and functioning.
This time between peace and danger was crazy-making.
She slammed a fist into her chest and burped loudly, relieving some of the heartburn.
Anticipation did terrible things to her body.
How did Ty just head out for what he thought was a training exercise and find himself off on a mission where danger was the standard?
Did he sweat like she did?
Did his body vibrate?
This was all so surreal.
Kira was starting to think she was panicking as a knee-jerk reaction.
Did she believe that London had perceived a threat and acted in Kira’s best interest?
Absolutely.
Was Kira glad to be away from her house until she had a better handle on things?
Yes.
But now she was roping other people into her discomfort. Christen took her seriously. She was going to put others in motion.
Kira wondered if her nerves, raw from the burglary, weren’t still primed with adrenaline.
The burglary had been horrific, but all told, it had taken Rory and Ty less than ten minutes to subdue the bad guys. The longest part of the event was waiting for the police to assemble, load up the bad guys, and take their statements.
It was violent and awful, and then it was over.
Kira wondered where Ty was at that moment.
He’d left at two so he and Rory could get dressed and be in place by five.
This was supposed to be a training exercise, but they put Echo in play. That meant that while she drove toward the Charlotte airport, Ty was probably “boots up” somewhere in the sky, jetting to the fight.
The places Ty went usually meant landing in Europe for refueling, then flying again to the Middle East or East Africa. He might be landing at his mission location about the same time as Kira would land in Washington, depending on what ticket she could get.
It was a comforting kind of symmetry.
She wished the geometry were different, and that they were together instead of running in parallel.
Kira was a threat to someone because of something she knew.
It was so improbable to have a doctorate in literature, but somehow her knowledge was a danger. Of course, what they wanted to ask her wouldn’t have anything to do with feminist themes in Jane Austen novels.
“What did she know?” became a thought loop.
Family honor would be a reason her hard-line uncle would take extreme actions.
But wouldn’t that be a conversation from long ago? The almost two years since Omar’s death were significant.
Why now?
Qatar was at the epicenter of a global hot spot.
There was enough for Uncle Nadir to focus on in the region right now. Even if Tanzania had never happened, and Omar had never happened, Kira certainly wouldn’t be getting on a plane and flying in for a visit any time soon.
In the capital of Doha had been missile and drone activity that had put everyone on edge.
Surely no one would dare take her to Qatar right now if only for their own safety.
Might they try something here in America?
“He will send someone to get you so they can ask you questions, and then you will no longer be his problem.” London’s note had said.
What did it mean to ask her some questions?
And while London thought the last part about no longer being Uncle Nadir’s problem was a life-threatening statement, could it all be innocent?
“Do you love this, Ty Newcombe? Do you mean to marry him?” Kira had her uncle ask her in her imagination. “Yes, I love him with all my heart. And I will marry him as soon as I feel safe,” she’d reply.
Safe from what?
Safe from Ty? Ty was her safety net.
If she thought that her uncle would throw his hands in the air and say, “Then marry the man. You are no longer my problem.”
Kira knew in her bones that London’s letter had nothing to do with her love for Ty.
London was a creative soul, and she felt the emotions around her like a texture she could rub between her fingers.
Even disabled, Kira believed that London would only betray someone she loved to save someone she loved.
And certainly, William would think of London’s note as a betrayal.
London had, indeed, put the magical ring from so many years ago into use as predicted.
Whew! That was a bone-chilling thought.
That took Kira’s breath away.
Did Uncle Nadir’s people plan to take her to another country?
Maybe bringing her passports was a bad decision.
She’d give them to someone in Washington for safekeeping.
Heading west on the highway toward Charlotte, Kira was distracted by the intensity of the tinnitus, which made it impossible to hear the radio.
The tip of her nose buzzed.
Kira wasn’t the only one on the road. Eighteen-wheelers were taking advantage of the open highways. Traffic would start soon enough.
But there was a car that had caught her attention.
Kira was driving slowly. It wasn’t really a choice. Her foot was shaking so hard that pressing the gas took a lot of focus. She didn’t trust herself not to drive hurky-jerky and put others in danger, so she stayed in the slow lane.
The car behind her stayed in the middle.
It went as slowly as she did.
It felt wrong.
Kira searched her memory for a story she’d heard the Echo brothers tell that would instruct her next moves, and nothing helpful came to mind. She thought of movies she’d seen when she lost the coin toss, and she and Ty went to a thriller.
Then she remembered something her father had done when she was little, back when everyone was mad at people from the Middle East and considered them suspect; they often found themselves running for safety into a public space or off the side of the highway.
She’d try it. Why not? At least she’d know.
And Christen had given her permission—not permission but a command—to drive like a lunatic.
Kira tapped 9-1-1 into her phone and set it in her cup holder, ready to press the button if necessary—not that she thought anyone could get to her if things went badly. But at least they could record her as she told the operator as much as she could before anyone got to her door.
Especially that she loved, loved, loved Ty Newcombe.
She had a plan, and somehow that steadied her nerves.
Kira checked the mile markers so she could tell the 9-1-1 operator where she was, beyond just saying she was heading west.
She read the sign telling her the next ramp was a mile ahead. Glancing up the highway to memorize what lay beyond the ramp, she saw what she needed: a break in the trees was just a short distance ahead.
As she came to the white dotted line to the off-ramp, Kira took a quick mental picture, then shut off her lights.
She knew not to put her foot on the brake as she slid into the ramp lane.
Using the differences in the shadows between the thick trees and the light gray of the roadway, Kira navigated up the ramp.
The crunch of gravel under her right-side tires reassured her that she was properly lined up as the incline slowed her progress.
As the curve straightened out and Kira could see the streetlamp shining on the stop sign ahead, Kira pulled all the way to the side until the tall grass brushed against her paint with a high-pitched scratch and came to a stop.
Moments later, another car sped up the ramp, roaring to the stop sign ahead, where it braked and paused.
Kira’s hands gripped her wheel as she whispered, “Turn. Turn. Keep going.”
But, instead, the car brightened with backup lights.
Kira flipped her high beams on to blind the car backing toward her. Spinning her wheel, taking the tight U-turn, praying that her tire wouldn’t slide down the gully as she tipped and tipped and tipped before she came out upright.
She swung herself onto the highway with the blare of a truck horn just behind her, and the shriek of its brakes, as she slung her car from the right lane all the way to the left, and slammed her lights off, protected from sight by the truck that continued to punish her with its horn blasts.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Sorry.”
Her foot came off the gas, and Kira was grateful for the hill rising in front of her to check her speed before she slid into that break between the trees onto one of those unpaved between lanes where the cops hid.
She had half-hoped that there would be a police officer sitting there. Instead, she came out, her wheels bump-bumping, onto the other side. She used the oncoming truck's headlights to see well enough to jerk her car into the far lane.
Thankfully, there was no telltale truck horn. The driver probably missed the black car gliding across his path.
When the truck was parallel, Kira flipped her lights back on, protected by the broad side of the eighteen-wheeler.
It wasn’t exactly what her dad had done, but she was glad to have had a plot in her mind.
At the next ramp, Kira once again left the highway.
She parked a short distance away in a dark space between two delivery trucks at the gas station, with its sign for showers and an all-night café.
She made herself sit there for a full twenty minutes, her clothes damp from sweat, her cheeks tingling with adrenaline.
She was tired. So tired.
She had slept poorly the night before, and none at all for the last twenty-four hours, except for her post coital nap with Ty when she clung to him, thinking that this was it, and knowing in her soul that he was safe, the danger was coming to her.
After the robbery, she’d thought that Fate had been averted; she was neither kidnapped nor killed, and maybe everything would be okay.
Then the ring.
The ring.
Kira peered down at it, fat and ugly on her finger, knowing that the warning was folded inside the secret compartment.
Now, all she could do was run.