Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
If ever there was a time when Jonah wished Sylvie was here, it was now. He pictured her with three cameras hanging off her tiny frame, and tears in her eyes. They’d be happy tears though, like the ones welling up in his own, as he tried to do the moment justice with his phone.
The bridges of their city glittering in the background.
Asher taking a knee on the deck.
Talia’s smile through her fingers before extending her hand.
And finally, the group-hug of the gang, piling on the happy couple.
“You’re off the clock, bodyguard.” A light touch to his shoulder; Tzipi had her own camera in hand. “I’ll take over. Go.”
He grinned and loped happily to throw himself into the mix. And they all welcomed him with open arms.
“You were in on this too, weren’t you, Klein?” Talia socked his arm.
“She’s hitting all the guys with bugs in their ears.” Asher laughed, removing his. “I guess these have served their purpose.”
Jonah left his in; he had one more use for it.
“Oh, for the happy couple.” Jonah pulled a slick burgundy key card from his pocket; and watched his friends’ eyes widen in recognition of the elegant Asian fan motif. “A night in the Mandarin Oriental, east penthouse suite. Courtesy Kara Koff.”
The couple followed his gaze to where Tzipi stood, smiling and nodding.
“Just deliver her bag to my place the next morning, okay?”
Asher nodded. “You got it. No questions asked.”
“Um, I don’t know if the guy code applies here, guys.” Talia snuck one more glance. “JoJo, it’s Kara Koff. And,” she chuckled. “Jay gave her permission to make you walk the plank earlier, you know.”
“Really?” Jonah chuckled. Imagine that.
Suddenly, the sky was alive with light. At least a hundred drones rose from an unseen barge and re-formed over the East River, sketching spirals and constellations that shimmered blue and gold overhead.
Word spread fast, and soon passengers crowded the deck, every face tilted upward, mouths soft with wonder.
“Two minutes.” Jay was nowhere near, but his murmur was low in Jonah’s IFB. “Stay low, she’ll come up the port side.”
His instructions were almost lost to the collective gasp of the crowd, as the drones formed a spinning star that burst into smaller stars.
“Wow,” Nora whistled beside him. “Eli really pulled out all the stops, didn’t he?”
“Almost all.”
“Jo…?” Nora’s voice held concern and curiosity as he kissed her cheek.
For the guy who was usually the first to the party and the last to leave, it was the closest he could come to an Irish goodbye.
The Matzo Baller’s engines dropped to an even, low thrum as the captain announced over the PA that the vessel was slowing for better visuals.
Above the water, the drones bloomed again – constellations blinking to the slow beat of music. Tzipi pretended to watch, hand on the rail as if she was just another dazzled guest.
But her pulse was like a trapped bird.
Jonah’s voice brushed her ear. “Now.”
Together, they slipped from the crowded deck into a narrow service corridor toward the back of the boat.
He took her hand and the lead, his broad shoulders blocking the narrow light up ahead.
Tzipi scurried to keep up, aware of every click-clack of her high heels along the metal flooring.
Jonah touched his wristband to a small panel.
Its green light blinked, and the door slid open to reveal stairs.
Down they went; the smell of diesel and river rising to meet them.
The air grew colder with each step, until there were no more steps. Just a short platform, dimly illuminated by a sole utility light. Beyond it lay the night – and slick, black water.
What am I doing? This was insane, movie-level recklessness. But there was no stopping now.
“There’s the water taxi,” Jonah breathed. “It’s coming to the stern platform.”
Tzipi nodded, the wind cutting through her hair. A smaller boat was easing up through the wake, its shape more felt than seen. All its lights off. Water slapped at the ship’s sides, competing with the low throb of the engines. Both beating like a giant heart.
Meanwhile, her own heart plummeted when she saw it: the short service ladder bolted to the stern of the Matzo Baller, rungs wet and waiting.
“We still have to go down that?”
“Just a few feet. I’ll be right below you.”
“But it’s so, so dark.” Her whisper was a whimper.
“Sometimes…” Jonah swung a leg over first. “Sometimes you gotta be your own flashlight in the dark, Tzipi.”
Her breath caught.
“That was one of Rosie’s lines. Mine!” She was stunned. “Season four!”
“Episode six.” He grinned up at her in the faint light.
“You’re a Room to Bloom fan?”
“I even had the lunch box.”
He winked, for real this time. Then disappeared down the ladder to the water taxi’s deck below.
She took a deep breath, lifted her hem and followed, hands clamped on the slick rail. One rung, then the next. Then her heel slid.
The world tilted. One stiletto skittered, clanged against metal, then vanished into the black. Hitting the water with a delicate, traitorous plunk.
She froze.
Jonah’s hand was warm on her other ankle. “Let it go.” He eased off her remaining shoe. “It’s okay.”
The crowd above cheered – the drones had formed a burning heart between the bridges. Perfect cover.
Tzipi slowly descended to the next rung, bare foot to metal, and felt his arm close around her waist, steady as a promise. “I got you.”
The deck was cold and wet, and she half-stumbled, half-fell into his arms. He guided her the rest of the way onto a hard bench.
“Hang on, folks.”
The boat pilot didn’t have to tell them twice; Tzipi clutched the tux material of Jonah’s broad shoulders as he pulled her against him, their mouths landing on each other’s in a decadent, overdue velvet crush. Warmth washed through her. We did it.
Although she wasn’t completely sure what it was yet.
All she knew was that she was being thoroughly kissed by the man she had thought was her bodyguard. The gentle giant she had wanted to kiss – to be alone with – since the moment she saw him.
Those large hands – one caressing the back of her neck, the other sending sparks up her spine as his fingers memorized it.
She fisted his untucked tux shirt to bring him closer, meeting each stroke of his tongue and sighing as he caught her top lip with just the perfect pressure before coming up for air.
“I still can’t believe you’re a Rosie Bloom fan,” she murmured, for his ears only.
His low chuckle was warm against her temple.
“I’m a Tzipora Solokoff fan, actually.”
Heat gathered in her belly, pooling to places she hadn’t considered in so long. Yet the bench was hard and cold under her bottom. And the wind insisted on rudely cutting in between them, whipping her hair extensions against both of their faces.
She leaned her forehead to his, letting out a shaky breath of laughter as she slowly shook her head. His grin looked good from this angle, as he stole another quick kiss.
“VIP pickup complete,” the pilot murmured into his radio, reminding them they weren’t truly alone just yet. “Transfer in progress.”
Ahead, the city unspooled in reflections. The little boat cut through them all, swift and silent, while the Matzo Baller sailed on behind them, carrying its noise and glitter into the dark,
It already felt like another world.
Her feet were freezing. The lost Louboutin – the one with Kara’s carefully-drawn map on its red sole – bobbed somewhere behind them. Maybe sinking, maybe not…its absence felt like a mark of no return.
The other shoe sat cradled in Jonah’s lap.
The last bursts of the drone show shimmered against the underside of the bridges.
“Eli, that genius.” Jonah gave a low laugh. “He told me to watch for signs from above.”
“Gold?” She remembered his name from earlier. When she’d first tried the chocolate.
She had, miraculously, found her flame.
And, as Jonah had reminded her – her own flashlight in the dark.
The city seemed to rise to meet them within minutes, its reflection now flickering like candlelight on the water. The pilot nosed them past a bright ferry terminal toward a dimmer, smaller pier next to it.
“Service slip,” he advised. “Landing’s clear, but you’ll have to jump that last foot or so. Tide’s low.”
Jonah thanked him, palming the man what Tzipi could only imagine was a tip for the impromptu charter. Then climbed out first, his shoes thudding softly on the wet planks. He turned, reached for her. The boat dipped her into his arms, and he lifted her lightly until her bare feet met the dock.
The sound of car horns and a distant siren drifted from the road; carried on a much gentler wind. Land ho.
Tzipi smiled up at him, the kind of smile that started small and became unstoppable. His grin back was quick and bright. “Welcome to the East Side.”