29. Joao
29
JOAO
W hen I wake up, it’s daylight outside, and Stefi’s nowhere to be seen. I jump to my feet and rush outside, and the car is gone too.
Fuck.
She’s run away. Again.
I slump against the front door, trying not to take her disappearance personally. After yesterday, I thought. . . I hoped. . .
Damn it. We slept together, for fuck’s sake. I thought it meant something. If nothing else, I hoped it would mean she’d stop seeing me as the enemy. That she’d stick around.
I’m such a fool. Three times I’ve had Stefi in my grasp now. Zurich, then Paris, and now in the Polish countryside, and all three times, she’s gotten away. By now, you think I’d have learned my lesson.
Her left ankle is hurt. It won’t stop her from driving, but how far can she get without a passport?
I go back into the farmhouse and look through my stuff, and the fake ID I made for her is still there. Where is she going? She’s not going to be able to cross the border into Germany, and it’s insane for her to stay in Poland. Zaworski was well-connected, Kawka even more so. They’re going to be looking for her.
What is she hoping to accomplish, alone, on a twisted ankle, without a working passport?
The sound of a car’s engine makes me look up. A Toyota Corolla, the last car we stole yesterday, comes up the laneway. Stefi parks in front of the farmhouse, opens the driver’s side door, and gets out, keeping her weight off her left leg as much as possible.
Before she can take a hobbling step forward, I’m there, bracing my shoulder under hers so she can lean on me. “Where have you been?” I demand.
“I woke up early and couldn’t fall back asleep, so I went to get supplies.”
And I was sleeping so soundly that I didn’t even hear her leave. I can’t decide if I want to kiss my wife or strangle her. “You’re supposed to be resting your ankle,” I say pointedly. “I could have handled it when I got up.”
“You could have,” she agrees. “But if I told you to make sure you got sutures for the cut on your palm, would you have stopped for a first aid kit, or would you have pretended that it was nothing and told me not to worry?”
Definitely the latter, and she knows it. “Exactly,” she says with a smirk, pulling out a tin with a red cross on it. “That’s what I figured. Let me see your hand.”
I fix my gaze on the first-aid kit. “Where did you get that from?” I ask, mildly aghast. “Did you go to a hospital?”
Stefi gives me an offended look. “Is this my first day on the job?” she demands. “Of course, I didn’t break into a hospital. Too many cameras. I robbed an animal clinic.” She lifts her chin in a way that makes me want to kiss her. “I figured it was more appropriate since you got that cut on your palm by being an ass. ”
I snort. She looks a little too pleased with herself. “Been practicing that line, little fox?”
“The entire drive back,” she admits. She makes a face. “I also felt bad about breaking the clinic’s window, so I left them some money to replace it.”
“Of course you did.”
I notice she’s looking pale again, so I sweep her into my arms, ignoring her protests, and carry her across the threshold. “Call it what you want, but I got cut watching you come after eight years of just having it as a memory. It was totally worth it.”
“Like I said, you got cut being an ass,” she retorts before changing the subject. “Can you heat some water up?”
I set her down on the blanket, noticing the wince she tries to hide from me.
“Next time, when I tell you to keep your weight off your ankle,” I scold, “listen to me. Or I might be tempted to tie you up.”
“You should try that.” She winks at me, the little minx. “I think I’d enjoy it.”
“Would you now? Why does that make me suspicious?” I refill the pail and stoke the fire as we banter. “Have you gotten good at getting out of handcuffs?”
“Not as good as you. Nobody was as good as you. Only Jack came close.” A look of sadness flashes over her face at the memory of the boy we grew up with. Jack was one of the assassins in our cohort. Small and wiry, an expert lockpicker, and a pretty decent hacker as well. I haven’t thought about him in years. “What happened to him, do you know? Does he still work for Bach?” She laughs a little as she realizes what she just said. “You can tell it still hasn’t sunk in. I don’t know if it ever will. Maybe I’ll need to see a body before I truly believe that Henrik Bach is dead.”
“I’m sure Valentina can break into the Austrian police records to get you what you need.” The water is hot enough, so I unhook the pail and bring it over to Stefi’s blanket.
“Hmm,” she says noncommittally. She cleans my wound, looking carefully for any signs of infection. There isn’t any. It was a clean cut, and Stefi tended to it thoroughly last night. When she’s satisfied I’m clear, she opens the first-aid kit and reaches for the numbing spray.
“I don’t need it,” I tell her with a roll of my eyes. “I don’t care if it hurts.”
“You might not care that it hurts, but I do.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “I can’t bear to cause you pain.”
Then why did you run? Why didn’t you tell me what you were planning? Why did you let me believe, for eight long, agonizing years, that you were dead?
The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t ask. Asking her why would shatter this fragile interlude, and I don’t want to do that.
But she’s waiting for me to ask. She’s watching me, her eyes wide and wary, her shoulders stiff, every muscle in her body poised to run again.
“I want you to know something, Stef,” I tell her, my voice quiet. “The moment that knife hilt slid inside you and you sighed in pleasure, I realized I don’t care. Whatever the reason you left, it was eight years ago, and I can’t stay angry forever.” I exhale in a long breath. “Fuck it. Whatever happened, it was in the past, and I’m a lot more interested in the present.”
“You realized you didn’t care the second the knife slid into me.” She laughs disbelievingly. “That’s not real, Joao. That’s magic pussy. You have sex brain right now. When it fades, you’ll realize that of course it matters. The past influences the present. Like it or not, you can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Sex brain?” I stare at her, dumbfounded. “That’s what you think this is about? Don’t be ridiculous. This isn’t about sex, and we both know it. Last night, I slept so soundly that I didn’t even wake up when you left. Me, who wakes up when Mimi pads outside my bedroom. This is about trust, about finding your person. When I saw you at the party, it felt like a giant neon sign popped up over your head. It made me realize I could either wallow in my pain and anger, or I could open my eyes and see that you’re right in front of me, the second chance I never thought I’d get.”
There’s a long moment of silence. Stefi’s the first to break it, but she doesn’t address what I just said. “Show me your palm,” she says instead.
It’s tempting to push, but I shove down the urge. My wife needs space, and I’m going to give it to her. Without another word, I hold out my hand. She numbs the flesh and starts to stitch the cut shut with neat, even stitches, her head bent over my hand. “I know you want to ask me why I left,” she finally whispers. “But it’s because I can’t bear to cause you pain that I can’t tell you why. The truth won’t set you free, Joao. It’ll just break your heart. Trust me on this.” She looks at me with luminous green eyes. “I never wanted to flee. I just had no other choice.”
“I thought you left this morning,” I admit. “When I woke up and you weren’t there, I thought I lost you all over again.”
She shakes her head. “I’m done running. Henrik Bach is dead. Varek Zaworski is dead. If it weren’t for my promise. . .” She stops herself abruptly.
“Promise to who?”
Her face closes, and she stays stubbornly silent. I’ve evidently asked another question she won’t answer. I’m casting my mind for a different topic of conversation when she says, “My list is down to two targets. I need to talk to you about one of them.”
Her voice is suddenly serious, and my senses go on high alert. I have a feeling I’m finally going to get some answers from my wife. “Tell me.”
She swallows hard. “Antonio Moretti,” she says. “Your boss is part of Henrik Bach’s empire. For the last five years, he’s been funding it.” Her hand clenches into a fist. “And I’ve sworn that no matter the cost, I will kill him.”