Wherever It Leads (42 page)

“You’re all right, though. Right?” Presley asks.

“Yes,” he turns to her, smiling. “I had another doctor check me out as soon as I landed here. I’m fine. A little roughed up, but I’m okay. I was able to kind of do basic treatment on myself while in that hellhole, thankfully.”

“Thank God,” my mother whispers.

“How did you get back here? What happened?” I ask.

“Well, two days ago, I was sitting in this room I’d been in for a few weeks. I have no idea where it was, obviously, but it was with a family, which was a first. They seemed like they didn’t know what to do with me or even want me there, really. So I’m sitting there a couple of days ago and everything is just the same as it had been. Same routine by the father, the mother, the little girl. And a bunch of men come, a few I recognize from various places I’d been, and they’re having this argument outside my window. I can’t understand any of it, but I can tell something’s wrong.

The family is getting nervous. I’m getting nervous, trying to figure out what I have around me I can use for a weapon when one of them sneaks past me and tells me to be patient. The way he said it,” he shakes his head, trying to relive that moment, “there was something about his accent or the look in his eye that made me think this might be a good thing. It’s hard to explain. And, a few minutes later—thirty, maybe forty—guns start going off and Unit A, Mandla’s advanced unit, comes in and gets me out.”

My father leans back in his chair, the squeaking cutting through the gush of air that I release. “If they knew where you were, they should’ve gotten you out sooner.”

“No,” Brady says, shaking his head empathically. “It’s not that easy, Dad. They had no idea where I was. I think they did come get me as soon as they knew. I was moved a number of times. Only a handful of people ever saw me. It wouldn’t have been easy to find me. And you know, there’s a good chance they’re going to be in some trouble for doing it the way they did.”

“So you don’t think Nzou knew it the whole time? Senator Hyland thinks—” Dad starts, but Brady cuts him off.

“Senator Hyland has no clue, to be honest. I was moved eight or nine times while I was over there. And from what I understand, as soon as Nzou knew for sure, they did come and get me. And I don’t even want to know what it cost them. I’m sure there was money in paying bribes and spies and things like that. And they had a private plane ready to get me back to the States right away. “

My heart lurches in my chest, tears stinging my eyes.

Fenton did get him back.

Presley grabs my hand and I squeeze it, trying to keep from breaking down at the table. I keep envisioning him being led out of the restaurant, hearing him say he loves me. And now, seeing what he did for me, for Brady, for my family, my heart splinters into a million pieces.

My father has been talking, but I haven’t followed along. So when Brady responds, I have no idea what he’s responding to.

“His name is Fenton Abbott,” Brady says, taking my breath away. He furrows his brow, flashing me an inquisitive look, but I don’t respond. Just hearing his name come out of my brother’s mouth is awe-inspiring. “His mother was from Zimbabwe, so he had regional contacts there. It’s very clannish; it’s hard to explain. He told me on the way over here he was forbidden to deal with them, but as soon as he had enough concrete information, he did anyway. I’m pretty sure he’s going to lose his company because of it. The government won’t let him get away with that.”

A small gasp escapes my lips and Brady reads it like a book.

“Brynne?”

“It’s nothing . . .” I let go of Presley’s hand and slip my phone out of my pocket. Still nothing from Fenton.

My heart plummets.

“Do you think your boss is going to be okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“I don’t know. I hope,” he sighs. “He’s a really good guy. I’m not sure he’s always one-hundred percent legal, but everything he does is done so that someone else can benefit. Like, the guys were saying he’s in with some of the clans over there. That might be true. But I also know how much he gives back to people and the good he does, so what’s it really matter? As a doctor, sometimes I have to do things that aren’t necessarily going to get me a big thumbs-up by the board, but you have to do things to save lives sometimes. I don’t think he’s much different than me, really.”

I can’t stop the tears. They pour down my face before I can even attempt to stop them. When Presley hugs me, the sobbing begins. They’re so forceful I’m not sure they’ll ever stop, wails racking my body so hard my mother gets up and flies around the table to be at my side.

I hear her hushing me, trying to console me. But nothing will. Not until I see Fenton again. Not until I know he’s okay.

“Are you all right?” I hear Brady’s voice as my tears start to falter and I regain my composure, using a napkin off the table to dry my eyes. It soaks within a second.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

“Do you know him? Fenton, I mean?” Brady asks. He studies me in the way he always has. He knows the answer, an ability honed from years of sharing the same bedroom and eavesdropping on my phone calls.

I consider lying about it because it seems so awkward, so strange that I know him. But I realize it’s pointless. They all know, anyway. And I have every intention of standing by his side as he goes through whatever he’ll face from doing this.

“I do,” I answer, glancing around the table. “We met a while ago.”

A haunting smile crosses my brother’s face. “So, you’re the rudo.”

I gasp. “How did you know that?”

“It was a long trip from Concord,” he smiles. “Fenton was waiting when we landed to refuel and flew back with me. We had a long talk.”

“Do you know what it means?” I ask. “He says it’s just a word, but I don’t think that’s true.”

Brady laughs softly. “Yes, but I think he should be the one to tell you.”

“I wasn’t very nice to him,” I admit. “I thought he had something to do with you being missing. I thought he left you there.”

“We all did,” my father chimes in.

“Is that who you went to Las Vegas with?” my mother asks, never missing a thing.

“Yes,” I sniffle. “I’ve been seeing him.”

“Well, you were all wrong to think he left me anywhere,” Brady says. “Because from what I understand, and from what I believe happened that day—and trust me when I say I’ve had a long time to think about it—Grant is the one that left me there.”

“Grant?” my mother gasps.

“Yeah. There was a window, a small one, where he could’ve done something. When he heard the shots I fired at the dog, he should’ve come running and he didn’t. Do I think I was set up because I knew about the ivory?” he shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe. I don’t know for sure. It’s possible. But if it weren’t for Grant, we never would’ve been where we were anyway.”

I’m stunned, my mouth hanging open. I look at Pres and she’s as shocked as me.

“Can we kill him now?” she asks. I’d normally laugh, but I don’t think she’s kidding. And I don’t think I’d be adverse to the plan either.

“He’ll get his,” Brady says. “I have to be debriefed again in the morning because the guys that had me were terrorists. But between them and Fenton, I have no doubt Grant will be handled. We just need to let it play its course.”

I rub my hands down my face, trying to soak in all of this information. It’s all clear now, all of it making sense. But there’s still a hole in my heart and I can’t fill it . . . because he’s not here.

“What will happen to Fenton?” I ask, looking at my brother. “We were at dinner tonight and they came in and took him . . .”

“He expected it. I don’t think he knew when, and I don’t think he’d want them to do it in front of you,” Brady says. “But he warned me and told me they’d try to arrest him, but he’d already discussed it with his attorneys and nothing would stick. But Mandla, at a minimum, will be closed most likely.”

“Oh my God,” I say, my lip trembling. “It’s his mother’s company. He’ll be devastated.”

Brady grins. “He won’t be happy about it. But he’ll come out a winner. Trust me.”

I
haven’t done this in a long time, but it’s exactly what I need.

The porch swing glides back, the chain squeaking a little as the wooden bench floats forward. Over and over again, the rhythm settling over my soul. The sky is a pretty blue, not a deep midnight color, but more of a light-up-from-behind kind of thing that makes it not seem quite three o’clock in the morning.

Presley is asleep upstairs in my childhood bedroom. Mom and Dad went to bed a couple of hours ago, right after Brady turned in. I was surprised Mom didn’t sleep outside his door, just so she could make sure he was there every time she woke up. I can’t blame her. It still seems unbelievable.

I tried to lie down, first in my bed and then on the couch, but I couldn’t find that sweet spot. Or maybe it’s that the sweet spot isn’t accessible to me right now because all I keep thinking of as I toss and turn is Fenton.

I watch the clouds sweep past the moon, almost like a hand is guiding it across the sky. I think of my brother snoring in the room above and how quickly things can change—both good and bad. He was here one day, gone the next. We’re so, so incredibly lucky to have him home again, but who knows what tomorrow holds? Things can change in an instant, your loved ones sucked away, your happiness taken, never to return.

My exhale breaks the stillness and I draw my legs up and wrap my arms around them. I notice the heart tattoo on my finger, my friendship token with Presley. I trace it with another finger and catch myself smiling. It makes me happy. Something so simple, so free—well, besides the twenty-four dollars it cost—means the world to me, makes my life better.

I swing back and forth and think to the other things that make me happy. None of them, not one, surprisingly, is a tangible thing. The feeling of my family together makes me happy. Smelling my mother’s house when I walked in earlier tonight made me happy. And images of a certain smirk, the scent of Fenton’s musk also make me ridiculously happy.

The sound of the door opening startles me. I look up to see Brady walking outside, his flannel pajama pants and red t-shirt looking rumpled.

“I thought I’d find you out here,” he yawns, slipping into the swing beside me.

“Why are you awake? I figured you’d sleep for days.”

He shrugs and I realize I’ve touched a nerve and I instantly regret saying that. “Every time I close my eyes, I listen for footsteps. It’s hard to turn off that feeling of being alert all the time, you know? And I haven’t had a mattress or a pillow for months.”

“I can’t imagine, Brady. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

“I should’ve listened to you, I guess.” His shoulder bumps mine, making me laugh.

“You should’ve. I know everything, you know.”

“So, little sister, since you know everything, have you heard from Fenton?”

My spirits sink, my shoulders slumping forward. “No. I got a text from Duke—do you know him?”

Brady shakes his head.

“He works for Fenton. He told me Fenton was being questioned and his attorneys were with him and he would get a hold of me when he can. But what if he doesn’t?”

“He will.”

I sigh and sink against the wooden planks of the swing. My heart is empty and my soul full of dread. I need to make things right with him, just like he did for me. “I should’ve believed him.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Brady quips. “You should always question everything. He’ll understand.”

“I just feel so rotten. So mean, Brady. So not like me.” I nod, squeezing my eyes shut to block out the memory. “I just wish I could see him. I just wish . . .”

My voice trails off as his face comes into my mind. The sincerity in his big, beautiful grey eyes as he told me he loves me. The playful smirk as he gave up the location of my bikinis. The genuineness when he handed me his mother’s necklace and told me to remember where my loyalty lies.

I clasp my fingers around the charm. My loyalty lies with my family, but it also lies with Fenton. He’s proven his love for me in a way I can barely wrap my head around. I’ll do whatever I need to do to show him it was worth it.