Authors: Amanda Lance
Conviction (29 page)
He nodded. “Okay.”
“Speaking of talking…” I smiled. “At some point I should say thanks to Reid. And—”
“You wanna thank him?”
“He did kind of save my life…”
Charlie laughed, throwing his hands in the air. “And he just kinda started this mess.”
I shrugged. Maybe Charlie had a point, but things had worked out and since we were healthy and together again, wasn’t it better to start with a clean state? Forgive and move on?
“Okay, but we finished it.”
“It won’t be finished until we figure out who gave us up and take care of ‘em.”
“The point is that maybe it’s okay to forgive—”
“Forgive?”
“Sure, why not?”
***
The days passed lazily. And between sketches and sessions of love-making, we played the ‘what now’ game, spouting lavish and outrageous possibilities. We discussed ideas involving European museums, hot air balloons, and the renting of amusement parks, skiing Swedish mountains, and the odds of me not killing myself in the process. But as soon as we were on dry land again it seemed like a tangible plan would have to come to light sooner than I wanted to.
“So what now?” I looked into the great distance that was Marseilles. It was more beautiful than I had imagined, and I had spent hours doing nothing more than just that.
“Whatever you want, you can go back to school—”
“Something tells me I wouldn’t be very welcome there, and anyway, I
know
you wouldn’t be.”
“That’s a good point…”
He smiled at me wryly. “You know there’s a lot of schools in France.”
“My French is more than lousy.” I circled my arm around his.
He slowly leaned in close, and just as I thought he might kiss me, the direction of his mouth turned to my ear instead. “I might argue with that.”
As I turned bright red I managed to nudge him away. “I’m serious.”
Taking my hand in his, he twirled me back to him. “Whatever we do end up doin’, I promise you’ll be happy.”
“We,” I leaned as far as the tips of my toes would take me,
“We’ll be happy.”
Epilogue
I dug my toes into the sand, creating a scoop when I let them emerge, nails coated in milky white sand. I smiled at the way the sun made some of the grains shine, if I looked at them just right, like little diamonds.
Not far beyond them, crystal blue waves crashed on the shore. Today they were blue, but like certain kaleidoscope eyes, they could appear different shades of green or deceive altogether at night, looking dark and alarming. I had decided our first day here that I liked this color blue the best, maybe because of the way it contrasted with the sand, or because of how it brought out Charlie’s eyes. Either way, I tried not to put too much thought into it, and just enjoy the view.
The pier just beyond the bend was empty aside from two deck chairs, between them a limp fishing pole. I laughed at myself, like a lot of things that required patience, I was not a very keen fisherman. I did, however, enjoy spending countless hours on the sand or in the nearby hammock watching Charlie trying to perform the same feat. Clearing my head of the vision, I tried to return my attention back to the task in front of me. The occasional breeze was trying to dog-ear my stationary, but I was determined to finish my letter to Dad before that happened.
Dear Dad,
Since my last letter, the rain has stopped and the river has receded enough so the market can reopen. We were there earlier today so I’ve gotten my fix of papaya and coconut milk for a couple of days…
As much as I loved the constant fresh fruit, it was marginal compared to my appreciation for the Maldives’ lack of extradition policy. Here, I could freely call and write home as often as I pleased with no consequences. I took advantage of this benefit on a regular basis, calling Dad, Melinda, and even trying to get a hold of Robbie at base every now and then.
Getting to France had been the easy part; the rest, of staying there in a semi-legal fashion and keeping under the radar, were different stories. We stayed in a tourist-ridden part of Marseilles where almost everyone spoke English, and with my abundance of free time, learning enough French to get by seemed easy. In those first couple of weeks there were logistic issues concerned with transferring international accounts and making up fake-IDs, applying for visas and getting in touch with loved ones in the States. By the second or third conversation on the phone, though, Dad sounded somewhat convinced that I was not only alive, but well, and exactly where I wanted to be.
“Careful, Vicious, or you’re liable to burn.”
It was impossible to hear him sneak up on me on the sand, and, like always, he caught me by surprise. Charlie would come up from behind me, wrap his arms around me, and dig out his own spot in the sand. I was used to this by now, though I enjoyed it just as much every time.
“Says the guy who hasn’t been wearing sunscreen.” I reached over and tried to jab at him with the end of my pen, but he wrangled it out of my hand before I got close. His left arm had regained its strength in almost no time at all and I was happy that despite its new scars, it was just as strong as ever.
He hit his head against the back of my shoulder. “Ain’t it your job to remind me ‘bout these things?”
“Well,” I wiggled just a little further back into him, “maybe I like the tan.”
“I should have known.” I didn’t suppress my giggle while he invaded my neck with kisses, closing my eyes and giving in, as I was beginning to learn wasn’t so bad after all.
We were both still laughing when he pulled away. “Where have you been, anyway?”
He sighed against me. “Yuri was on the line. Wanted to brag ‘bout some big win in Monte Carlo.”
I rolled my eyes. “Figures.” I folded the letter back on itself and under the clipboard so the wind wouldn’t take it. “Any sign of Reid?”
Not long after arriving, Reid had taken off from Marseilles, disappearing without a word. Whether or not he intended to come back had been left as an open ended question; one that honestly, no one was going out of their way to answer.
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Good riddance.”
I stretched long, sinking my toes back under the sand and my hands around Charlie’s neck. “You don’t mean that.”
“Maybe not. But I’m sure as hell not goin’ to look for him.”
“I think it’ll be okay. Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
Charlie’s laugh bounced on the breeze. “In that case we might forget what he looks like before we start missing him.”
I looked at him from the corner of my eye. There wasn’t the slightest bit of the rage there while he spoke. And while I knew it was there, and would probably always be there, it was a relief to see him harbor some control over his emotions instead of the other way around. “Hey.” I nudged him. “I’m really proud of you.”
His eyebrow arched.
“I’m serious.” I laughed. I didn’t emphasize it further, but we both knew what I was referring to.
Charlie stretched his arms overhead, then forward. “I’ve always been amazing, Vicious. It’s just a shame it took you so long to see it.”
His false humility made both of us laugh. “It must be the sun.”
He turned his attention back to me then but I had gone back to staring at the waves, the way they overlapped here made it difficult to tell if they were coming or going. “I’m thinkin’ it was something else.”
We kissed again, both of our feet tangling in the sand. Though I was hardly coherent beyond that. His hand meshed into my hair, his nose pressed against mine.
“Can’t we stay here forever?” he asked when we parted.
I groaned, “We could, but I promised Elise we’d be back before the baby came.”
Charlie shook his head. “Not even here yet and that kid is a pain.”
I laughed. “We should return to the real world at some point. Now that my student visa went through, I can finish school—”
“Until then, my pretty wife—” He smiled his Charlie smile, and just as I thought he would kiss the slope of my collarbone, he planted his lips on my ear instead. “Did you know I can outswim you?”
“Not on your life, Charlie Hays!” I wiggled out of his grasp and made a run for the waves, laughing while he launched himself after me.
Acknowledgements
Gratitude and thanks to the good people at Limitless Publishing. As always, you guys rock my socks.
Special recognition to my editor Toni Rakestraw, who I’m pretty sure, should just be nominated for sainthood at this point.
Additional cheers to Robin Harper at Wicked by Design.
Oh yeah, and thanks to the family for all that like, support and stuff.
About the Author
Amanda Lance resides in Easton, Pennsylvania and is a writer of troubled, loveable guys. As an author she amazes everyone by making her BA in English Literature relevant. She spends her days writing, eating coco pebbles, and trying to keep her coonhound
and
boyfriend out of trouble. Occasionally, she makes food that doesn’t come out of the microwav
e
.