The Gambit (40 page)

“Are you ready?” the words awkwardly slipped out. I wanted to smack myself for asking that question. Would he think I was trying to rush him? Ugh.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he chuckled.

I let go of his hand and reached into my purse. I scrambled around until I found it.

“I have something for you,” I said.

“What may that be?” he asked.

“It’s nothing big, really. Open your hand.” He opened his hand. I placed a pack of gum in his palm. “You know, for when your ears start to pop.”

He smiled warmly and put it in his pocket.

“That will come in handy I’m sure. Thank you. Not just for this, though. For everything.”

Oh God. Don’t get emotional.

“It’s no problem. It was an honor, really, to get to hear your story and to meet you.”

He let out a laugh and shook his head side to side.

“You didn’t seem so star-struck when we first met.”

“I hid it well,” I admitted, blushing.

“
Transaero flight 887 to Moscow is now boarding at Gate 31. Last call for boarding in thirty minutes.
”

My stomach sank as the intercom faded out.

The planes of his face hardened. I could feel his breath as he let out a long exhale.

“Damn,” he muttered. “So I guess this is it.”

I swallowed and nodded. I knew what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t find the words. They were stuck in my throat.

“Whatever happens, Rachel, remember what I said last night. Don’t forget the reason why you approached me in the first place. Get your story and get it out there. It will all work out like you said to Ian. The other pieces are out there. You just have to find them.”

I shook my head yes, and I felt my eyes beginning to glisten.

“I will. I promise.”

Rachel—the paper. Don’t forget the paper
.

“Shit…” I mumbled and scrambled around my pockets to find it.

“What?”

“Here,” I pushed it towards him.

“What is it?”

“It’s my office number back in Raleigh, my email, my address. Maybe, if I don’t end up in a jail cell when all this is over—you can find a way to contact me.”

“Of course,” he said, and put the paper in his wallet. “We will see each other again.”

I nodded, struggling to hold back the tears. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him.

“Well, Bonnie, it’s been one hell of an adventure. Until next time…” He leaned in, and his eyes darted across my face. We met lips and he tightened his grasp around my waist as we kissed. He didn’t break away, and part of me wanted to stay in that moment forever.

He broke away, and I lovingly gazed back into his blue eyes.

“Until next time, Clyde.”

Our hands slipped apart, and he nodded, revealing a gentle smile. Part of me was gone when he turned away. He took a piece of my heart as he left. I would never be the same. I had fallen in love with the idea of him, because I knew from the beginning he was temporary. Now, as he walked farther away, I wished I could have had the strength, the courage, to push the words out.

“I love you.”

He didn’t hear me. He didn’t turn back. He was
gone.

I wondered if she knew how hard it was for me to walk away from her. I was miserable inside. Having to say goodbye to the realest woman I’d met since I was with Megan was torturous. We didn’t have time…

As I approached the TSA checkpoint, I took a deep breath.

Stay Calm. Everything will be fine
.

I fell in line between a woman and a man. Every second that passed, we got closer and closer.

“Shoes off and in the basket, please,” the agent announced in an assertive tone.

I slipped off my boat shoes and placed them in the basket.

“I always hate doing this,” the older woman mumbled to me with a smile. I returned it, awkwardly. “Me too.” I didn’t want to draw attention to myself by not answering. What was I getting myself into? I took my cheap pre-paid phone out of my pocket and placed it in the basket also. I slung my carry-on bag on the rollers and watched it disappear into the scanner. I didn’t have many belongings that would set off the metal detector. Nervously, I followed the lady through the detector, and nothing went off.

Thank God
.

We put our shoes back on, retrieved our belongings, and at the end of the line was another agent who sat at a podium. He was checking everybody’s IDs. My stomach trembled at the thought of it. I felt around my pocket for my passport and pulled it out. My clenched hand was beginning to sweat on the hard cover of the passport.
Relax
.

“Thank you very much,” the lady said to the man as he handed back her identification.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the agent’s deep voice echoed.

“Good afternoon,” I replied.
Don’t act nervous. Act natural. Stay calm
.

“Boarding pass and passport, please.”

I handed them to him quickly, in hopes that he wouldn’t notice my shakiness. He flipped it open and waved a light over the inside. Then, he glanced up at me.

Fuck
.
He knows who I am
.

He stamped the inside of my passport, still staring at me sternly.

“Have a good day, Mr. Arregan. Your gate is down the hall and around the corner to the left. You better hurry up.”

“Thank you.”

I left the checkpoint and didn’t turn back. I was so thankful I had made it through. Now, the hardest part was behind me and I could board my plane. I listened to his advice and hurried through the terminal. I saw a sign for Gates 30-40 at the corner and took a left and saw Gate 31. I maneuvered around the people walking in the opposite direction of me and saw the gate had very few people left to board.

“
Transaero flight 887 to Moscow, last call for boarding at Gate 31. Last call for boarding
.”

The intercom shut off right as I made it to the gate. I was breathing heavily and handed the lady my boarding pass. She ripped it in half and handed the other back to me.

“Enjoy your flight, sir.”

“Thank you,” I said and walked up the long, inclined slope that led into the cabin of the plane. The plane was already full. There were only a few open seats left. I glanced at my boarding pass. Seat 25D. I had an aisle seat.
Why would Grey choose an aisle seat? I’m trying to hide.
Maybe it was the only seat left. I heard the crackly cough of the lady beside me, and I glanced over at her as I sat down.

“Excuse me,” she said as she covered her mouth and coughed again. Her smile was sweet, and her thin white hair was evidence of her old age. She smelled of baby powder and a hint of overly strong perfume. White Diamonds most likely. It always floored me how it seemed to be the quintessential perfume for older women, and it smelled God awful.

“We’ve got a long flight ahead of us, don’t we? I guess I should at least introduce myself since we will be sitting together for the next eleven hours,” she chuckled and placed her bulky purse beneath her legs in front of her seat.

No, you don’t have to. I don’t even know my first name for crying out loud.

“I’m Millie, pleasure to meet you.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Think of a Swedish name…

“Milo,” I replied in an accent. “Nice to meet you, Millie.”

Milo?! What the fuck was I thinking? Millie. Milo and Otis? I’m not a damn cat.

“Milo, huh?” she gently touched my arm. I tried to smile and not react. Was Grannie Millie trying to flirt with me? Please, dear God, no. “You’re not from the States, are you?”

I nodded no. “I’m from Sweden.”

“Oh, how nice,” she patted my forearm like I was a house cat. “I should have known by the hair!” she chuckled. I smiled and nodded awkwardly.

“So, what is bringing you to Moscow?” she asked, keeping the conversation going.

If only you knew
…

“Visiting my sister. She lives in Moscow with her husband and two sons. I was here on business,” I answered in my accent. Perhaps Briana had rubbed off on me. I was pulling this information out of my ass and it was working just fine.

“Well, aren’t you a busy-body!” she chuckled. “I bet you enjoyed the weather down here.”

“Yes,” I said. “Very nice.”

“I’m going to visit Moscow and the Baltics. After Russia is Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. My granddaughter is an exchange student in Berlin, and she is meeting us there for her fall break. This is my daughter, Pamela.”

A blonde woman with blue eyes popped her head out from behind Millie.

Fuck. My. Life. Her whole family is probably in the row behind us, and I will have to meet them too. Just my luck.

“Hi!” she extended her hand out to shake mine. “Pamela, nice to meet you.”

“Milo,” I said. “Nice to meet you. You and your mother are very friendly.”

Too friendly…

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she laughed. “I promise, we won’t bother you the whole time.”

I’m sure…

“Oh, no worries. It’s a long flight. Good to be around such nice people.” I was praying that my accent hadn’t slipped. Millie was still grinning for no reason, but her daughter suddenly looked at me
differently
. Her smile diminished and was replaced with pursed lips. Her eyes darted over me like she was trying to analyze something. My heart sped up, and my instinct was to turn away, but I couldn’t be that obvious.

“Yes,” she began with the tiniest hint of nervousness in her voice. “It is. If my mom starts to snore, just tell me and I’ll wake her up.”

Great. She snores
.

I laughed. “It’s fine,” I said and turned back to face the seat in front of me. The way Pamela looked at me was still in the forefront of my mind. It was almost like she
knew
who I was. I let out a long exhale. I couldn’t worry about that now. We were all seated, and I had made it. There was nothing to worry about anymore. Even if she
thought
it was me, what could she do at this point? Maybe her Chatty Cathy of a mother would keep her occupied.

“
Attention, passengers. My name is Eddie Larkins, and I am your Captain. We are third in line for takeoff. Everything is on schedule, and we should arrive at 10 a.m. Moscow time. Please listen to the flight attendants for further instructions.
”

The intercom switched off. I glanced down at my watch—it was just shy of three o’clock. If my math was right, Moscow was seven hours ahead of us. I shook my head at the time gap. I would most likely be exhausted tomorrow, especially with Millie sitting next to me. We had detached from the jet bridge. This was it. In a few minutes, we would be over the Atlantic Ocean.

I saw the flat, tan-colored phone attached to the back of the seat in front of me. I felt the hard plastic of the pre-paid phone in my pocket, and I knew Rachel’s number was programmed in there.

Part of me wanted to call, just so I could tell her that I loved her.