More Than Life (3 page)

Muscles tense, Mik held his breath, but after a silence that seemed to stretch for eons, Isa nodded again.

“Meet me here at dusk in two days. If I can make it happen, I’ll have what you need.”

The relief that washed over Mik was almost enough to disguise the wrench of his heart as he watched Isa prepare to leave. Almost, but not quite, and it appeared Isa felt the same, for when the two men shook hands, Isa lingered longer than usual, and the fingertips of his free hand were suddenly on Mik’s face, stroking the dusting of stubble.

Mik felt his bones melt. He closed his eyes against the rush of heat from Isa’s touch, but he couldn’t repress the shiver that passed through him. For months, he’d imagined the feel of Isa’s skin, the rough pads of his fingers, and his full lips, but he’d never imagined the deafening thud of his heart or the roar of his blood in his ears.

“Isa…”

He murmured the American’s name with barely a breath, but found himself silenced by the soft brush of Isa’s mouth, on his lips, his cheek, his jaw, and finally, just over his ear.

“Be careful,” Isa whispered. “I couldn’t…”

He didn’t finish his sentence and when Mik opened his eyes, the American was gone.

For the next two days, Mik counted down the hours. The wait until he could see Isa again felt endless and empty, filled only by his fantasies of how their last encounter played out in his wildest dreams—no war, no heartache and secrecy, just them and the heady warmth of whatever fueled the ever-growing bond between them. He sensed that they were on a precipice, that their next meeting would push them over and into a black hole he found terrifying and enticing all at once. Lives depended on the success of his mission, but for Mik, he felt his very existence depended on the spark in Isa’s eyes, and their time was running out.

It felt like time stopped, but eventually, Mik found himself huddled under what had become their bridge in the rain, watching Isa leap down the embankment. The murky Balkan dusk faded away and all he could see was the determined set of the American’s jaw.

Isa handed him a tightly wrapped package. “Three passports,” he said. “For you, Leka and your sister. Don’t keep them all together.”

Mik curled his fingers around the taped bundle. The bitter cold of the brutal Kosovan winter was no defense against the jolt of heat he felt as his skin brushed Isa’s wrist. “Thank you. This means—”

“Mik.”

The rumble of Isa’s voice washed over Mik like a gentle wave, but the fervent urgency cut him deep. He searched Isa’s face, but as ever, found nothing he could decipher. “What is it?”

“When are you heading out?”

Mik hesitated. The growing affection in his heart was strong and consuming, but his engrained instinct to protect his people rose up and silenced the words on his lips. Isa was an ally, a friend, and so much more, but he was still a stranger…a face that didn’t fit. Rea had reminded him only that morning that Isa’s motives for helping them remained unclear.

The heartbeat of silence stretched, and with it, Mik felt his nerves tighten and twist to the point where they could take no more. Was this the tipping point he’d feared for so long? If he refused to disclose the details of his mission, would Isa snatch back his precious documents and turn away from him forever? Unbidden, his hands tightened on the bundle. He could love Isa, of that he was hopeful, but there was no doubt in his mind that he would fight him to save his people.

Sensing the waver in him, Isa stepped forward and held out his hands, a placating gesture, but his eyes remained earnest. “Tell me, Mik. You can trust me, I promise.”

Mik swallowed hard, torn and more conflicted than he’d ever felt, but Isa’s steady gaze won out and he caved. “Tomorrow, at dawn.”

His eyes closed as he turned away, but Isa’s response stopped him in his tracks.

“I’m coming with you.”

Mik froze. It was a request he’d never thought to expect. Startled, he turned back. “Why? You can travel freely to Albania whenever you want.”

Isa removed his hat and ran a restless hand though his hair. “I can travel overtly, Mik, which means the Serbians know my every move.”

“Are they watching you?”

Isa sighed. “Of course they are. They just don’t know what they’re looking for. If they followed me to Albania they’d figure it out pretty quick. This way, they’ll never know I was there.”

* * * *

The following morning, Mik found himself wedged in the back of a cattle truck with Isa by his side. Leka drove with Rea beside him while Mik and Isa watched over the dozen or so young children packed in around them.

Mik fidgeted, unable to keep still. Sewn into his trouser seams, he had vital information for his Albanian allies, and it felt alive as it brushed against his legs, like it was crawling with bugs. He chanced a glance at Isa and wondered if he felt the same about whatever he had hidden on his person. There was no doubt in his mind that the American was carrying something he shouldn’t. Why else would he need to travel so covertly? And what if they were caught together? Their fate if they were discovered alone was morbid enough. What would happen to the lone American in their band of smugglers?

Mik had no answers for his unspoken questions, and with his nerves too tightly wound he closed his eyes and focused on the infant he had cradled in his arms. Most of his charges were over five, because he didn’t have the means to care for the younger ones on the perilous journey west, but he’d accepted the baby at the last moment, along with her three-year-old brother. The toddler lay curled in Isa’s lap, a sight that did strange things to Mik’s heart. He’d never figured the American as the paternal type, and it made him wonder about the man behind the enigmatic façade. The man who’s every glance set Mik on fire.

Isa shifted. Mik opened his eyes and considered him. Isa had appeared asleep for most of the trip so far, but Mik thought he knew better. Isa was too still, his breathing too even, and with Albania far away, Mik knew it would be hours before either of them truly found rest.

Still, at least the children had reacted well to the stranger in their midst. Isa was like that, his charm so compelling he was too easy to like…Maybe too easy to love.

The truck continued to pick its way through the turbulent mountain roads. Mik tried to zone out, but it wasn’t long before he found himself fascinated by the sensation of Isa slouched beside him. When he was just a boy, he and his childhood friends had crowded onto the back of this very truck to go midnight swimming at the mountain lagoon a few hours away from the city. For some reason, even with those memories clouding his weary mind, it didn’t feel out of place to have Isa pressed against him instead of Leka or Ishmael. It felt right, like Isa had always been there.

Like smuggling children across war-torn Kosovo with a dangerously handsome American for company had become almost normal.

Around dusk of the second day, the baby woke from a nap and began to fuss. Isa nudged Mik awake and coaxed him into passing her across to him. Enraptured, Mik watched through heavy eyes as Isa soothed her. For the longest time, he’d fought to convince himself that Isa was nothing more than a disciple of the American machine—nothing more than a capitalist robot—but as he watched him rock the fractious infant back to sleep, it was heartbreakingly clear that Isa was as human as anyone else he’d ever loved, his mother, his father, Rea and Leka.

Isa was just a man, and strangely, the realization felt like a victory of sorts.

Sensing eyes on him, Isa looked up. “Sleep, Mik. We have work to do when we arrive. The little one will be safe with me.”

“I can see that,” Mik said. “You seem like you’ve done that before.”

“Perhaps I have.”

Isa’s tone was light, and Mik said nothing, for he knew Isa couldn’t or wouldn’t answer any questions he might have asked. He knew next to nothing about Isa. For all he knew, the he could have a wife and children of his own.

“Tell me why you do this,” Isa said after a while. “It’s a lot to risk when you could’ve escaped to Albania and beyond months ago.”

“My father will never leave Pristina,” Mik said. “He’s fought too long to protect it, and my mother will never leave him. There’s nothing else to do but stay and fight.”

“He won’t let you leave?”

“Oh God, it’s not that,” Mik said. “He begged us to deliver the children and not come back, but I can’t do that. I can’t abandon my home and my people.”

Isa nodded, his lips turned up in a faint smile, though his eyes were sad. “I had a feeling you might say that.”

Three days after the band of smugglers set off from Pristina, the truck crossed the guerrilla held border crossing into Albania, and despite Mik’s fears, there was no need to show their forged documentation. A flash of whatever identification Isa had produced was enough to see them through without so much as a glance at the heavily laden truck.

Mik was puzzled and somewhat awed by the sway of the American, but he didn’t ask questions. There were things in the world he didn’t want to know.

A few hours later, they reached their destination. Mik unloaded the children and passed them onto the next link in their journey. Their Albanian contacts, Doric and his wife, Rita were a kindly old couple, and they provided a sanctuary for the children at their remote home in the forest. The children would remain in their care until foster homes could be found. Mik felt a quiet rush of relief as he turned away from the warmly lit house. Despite their dangerous journey to get there, he knew the children couldn’t be any safer.

Isa was waiting for him when he emerged from the forest. “Where to now?”

Mik scrubbed his hands over his face. “Did you make your exchange at the border?”

Isa nodded, and Mik rolled his eyes. He wasn’t surprised he’d missed whatever interaction had passed between Isa and the border guards, and it didn’t matter. For now, at least, their work was done. “We’ll drive up the mountain to Doric’s summer cabin and sleep,” Mik said. “He’s left us enough coal and provisions until we head back tomorrow night.”

They made their way back to the truck and joined Rea and Leka in the front as they headed up into the Albanian mountains. Mik watched the scenery as it passed, and he couldn’t help the sense of peace that washed over him. The snow was fresh and pure. After months of grey and bleak war, the startling white of the jagged mountains felt cleansing, and he could almost believe he’d crossed over into another world, a world untouched by hatred and bloodshed.

The mountain air worked its magic on all of them. By the time Leka’s truck pulled up at the snow covered cabin, the lines of stress and fatigue had faded and left them all slightly giddy. Leka pushed open the door and led them inside. Mik glanced around. He’d been to the cabin many times in recent years. The bare walls and worn rugs felt almost like home to him. Leka and Rea foraged for food while Isa and Mik built a fire apiece in the two separate rooms of the cabin. When that was done, they gathered in the stone kitchen and ate a meal of hard cheese and pickled vegetables, washed down with warmed goat’s milk.

With the harsh Balkan night closing in on them like an inky curtain, there wasn’t much to do but huddle down and keep warm. Mik lay between Isa’s legs with his back against his chest. He wasn’t sure how they’d come to lie like that, how Isa had known what Mik needed, but he was too tired to ponder it. Isa was right there with him, holding, him, touching him, and it was enough for Mik. He watched the flames dance for a while and tried not to notice when Rea and Leka slipped away into the privacy of the cabin’s other room. Their relationship had grown beyond the bounds of friendship and he was happy for them. He just didn’t want to accept that the strain of war had made his baby sister a woman so soon.

Mik allowed himself to fantasize as the heat from the fire seeped into his weary bones. The mountain cabin was secluded, about as far from civilization as it was possible to get. Isa kissed his neck and he allowed himself to dream they could stay here forever. Here, in a safe haven where they could love each other until they fell asleep and wake up to the mountain sunrise. His parents could settle close by, and Rea and Leka could visit. Even Isa’s family…

Mik put the brakes on. It was a fanciful dream, but just for that night, he allowed himself to have it. In the tranquil isolation of the cabin, farfetched dreams were a welcome companion.

His mind continued to drift as the flames danced in shadows on the stark walls of the cabin. He’d watched Isa chop logs into kindling earlier, his sleeves rolled up and his arms bared, all golden skin and restrained strength. Feeling Rea’s eyes on him, Mik had forced himself to turn away, and yet every time he’d glanced up since he’d found Isa’s gaze already on him.

Now, wrapped securely in Isa’s arms, Mik felt like there was no one else in the world. Exhaustion washed over him as they lay together in the darkness, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. For months, he’d longed to lie with Isa, to feel his body around him and his lips on his skin—anything to satisfy the desire he’d felt deep in his soul since the moment he’d fallen under the American’s spell. Would they ever have this chance again? His head told him it was possible, but his heart said no.

Ignoring any part of him that still wavered, Mik turned and pressed his mouth to Isa’s. Isa let out a small gasp of surprise, but then responded fiercely, his lips hard and unyielding, and yet gentle and tender.

The crackling logs and hissing flame became the backdrop to rustling clothes as they undressed each other. Huddled under the thick blankets Doric had left them, their bare chests came together, Mik’s slightly slimmer than Isa’s with his broad shouldered frame.

Isa hovered over him, taking a nipple in his mouth and nipping it until Mik gasped. With a low growl, Isa lingered a moment before he relented and moved higher, burying his face in Mik’s neck. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“You have?”

Isa raised his head at the uncertainty in Mik’s voice. “God, yes. So much. How could you not know that?”