Vanguard (28 page)

There were no long goodbyes. They loaded their things into the SUV, exchanged brief farewells with those in the compound, and they pulled away. Neither of them could endure long goodbyes. No GYL alum could.

As they were getting ready to leave, she could feel his aloofness. She caught him staring at her, his eyes brooding, his touch impersonal. Her dark, angry Michael had returned.

With flawless courtesy, he insisted she ride in the front seat of the vehicle with the driver. So she wouldn’t feel ill, he explained.

“I want to be with you,” she protested.

“It is better if you sit up front.”

During the silent drive to Kaliningrad, she wracked her brain, trying to figure out what had happened to cause his sudden change in mood. Had it been something Will had said? Something she’d said or done? She glanced in the mirror and saw him staring out the window, his mind far away. Was it only yesterday that she’d told Anjali that they hadn’t fought? She had spoken too soon.

Whatever his problem, he wasn’t talking. Not at the airport in Kaliningrad. Not during the ninety-minute flight between Kaliningrad and Frankfurt. By the time they reached the business class lounge in Frankfurt, the tension between them had grown thick, and Sophie felt sick, angry, and scared.

“Okay, let’s have it,” she blurted out as they sat down in the lounge with coffee and lunch. “What’s your problem this time?” The words came out harsher than intended, and Sophie regretted going on the offensive.

Michael looked at her imperiously. “My problem. Of course,
I
am the one who has a problem.”

“You’re the one sulking. All I’ve done today is pack my stuff, say goodbye to my colleagues, get some work done, and fly here. I’m not sure which of those tasks has made you so angry.” She saw fury simmering deep in his eyes, melting the iciness.

“Yes, you did get some work done, didn’t you?” His voice became suddenly unpleasant. “Last night, before you came to our bed, you got some work done.”

She stared at him, confused. What had happened the night before?

Shit. The meeting about our media plans.

“
I can float it to Michael…I’ll give you his answer before we leave.”

“Are you talking about the meeting I had with the exec team about media coverage?”

“Yes, I am. Imagine my surprise when the Rev asked me how I felt about your proposal. I had to tell him, of course, that you had not bothered to seek my opinion.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” she asked testily. “I’m sorry I forgot to discuss it with you. I walked into the room and found you naked in bed with your dick in your hand. Did you really want me to discuss PR tactics with you at that point?”

He had the decency to flush at her words. “No, of course not. But afterward or first thing this morning would not have been amiss. Or – here is a novel idea – how about inviting me to the meeting in the first place?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Or am I only to serve you in the bedroom?”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” She snatched up her coffee. “I made the right decision on the media coverage. Why are you upset? Would you prefer to face the media upon clearing immigration in New York? I can arrange for that to happen.” She gestured to her iPhone on the table, daring him.

“I have no issue with the decision regarding media coverage.” His pale cheeks had flushed red with anger. “However, that you excluded me from the decision-making process is unacceptable. Particularly when the decision at hand directly affects me.” He rose, and she glared as he towered over her.

“Like you consulted me when you drugged me on the way back from Kaliningrad?” she asked sweetly.

Fury danced in his eyes for a moment. “Yes, like that. A decision that I freely admit was wrong, and for which I have apologized profusely.” She flushed and looked away, knowing he was right.

“I am an intelligent human being, Sophie. Just as intelligent as you. I am also a proud, difficult man, but I am not without reason, nor am I a child. More importantly, I am not your possession. Which is how I feel at this time.” His calm frightened her far more than his anger.

“I would like time to myself.” He picked up his knapsack and gestured her back down when she rose. “Please take this opportunity to think about what I am to you. At this time tomorrow, we will be back in America, starting a new life. I had thought we would do that together, but perhaps you have other plans.” She sank back down into her chair, stunned. “I will see you on the plane.”

Michael started to leave, then looked back. “For your information, I am fully media trained.” Then he was gone.

~~ - ~~

They had six hours between flights. She spent it sitting numbly in the lounge.

What had just happened?

It was the Nariovsky anger, she decided. Michael having a fit of temper. He’d done it a million times over any number of things. He would sulk, then return with an apology, as usual. She sat there for a while longer, coffee growing cold before her.

Why didn’t I invite him to that meeting?

At the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do. Michael had been through a lot. He didn’t need any more pressure. He needed to relax and have time to himself, not wrangle with the executive committee about media strategy.

And it sure is easier to get things done without him arguing all the time.

Well, it
was
easier to get things done without him. He argued a lot. In the end, they would have almost certainly come to the same conclusion if he’d been involved. It just would have taken longer.

So why exclude him?

It was easier. Since she knew him so well, she could develop acceptable solutions for him. She knew what was best for him.
Even more so than Michael himself.

“Shit,” she said aloud. A man sitting nearby looked at her out of the corner of his eye, then went back to his newspaper.

This wasn’t just their old destructive pattern – his temper and her stubbornness. This was her being a control freak at Michael’s expense. Just like him, she had been profoundly affected by the last six months of trauma. His legacy might be impulse issues, but hers was pure control.

The man with the newspaper watched her as she cried.

~~ - ~~

Michael delayed boarding the flight. They had first class seats; there was no rush. He wanted to stretch his legs fully before boarding. As if walking around the airport for five hours did not sufficiently ensure all the kinks were worked out.
You are nervous
, he admitted to himself.

What if she does not board the plane?

He knew that was irrational, but the thought preyed on him. His temper ran hot, flaring up violently and subsiding just as quickly. But, when crossed, Sophie held a grudge like no one else he knew. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that she would refuse to take a flight with him after their confrontation.

Yes, she should have invited him to the meeting, or at least consulted him afterward. But his reaction to her error in judgment had been extreme. He should have thought it through a little more before speaking his mind and then storming away. He was, Michael realized uneasily, having more trouble than usual governing his passions – both positive and negative.

He felt his face flush at the thought of what had happened in their room last night. The inactivity of his recovery at base camp had become irksome, and he had had nothing to do that evening other than ache for Sophie. When she’d walked through the door, he’d been deliberately provocative, rolling over to show her how much he’d missed her those last hours.

The feel of her mouth around him, looking down to see her pleasuring him, her tongue finding all his sensitive spots with wicked accuracy…he’d come in less than a minute like a sixteen year old getting his first blowjob, biting back a shout. And then had spent much of the night making love to her, fiercely and possessively. His body was pleasantly sore today as a result.

If she’d brought up work at any point, he would have cut off the conversation as quickly and erotically as possible. He could barely remember his own name when he was buried inside Sophie, let alone remember to follow up on something work related. How fair was it that he had expected her to feel any differently?

Why must we always do this to one another?

He had thought of little else as he had wandered around the airport for the last few hours. How could they be together, love one another, when impulse and pride so dominated? They were, as Carter had frequently pointed out to him over the years, utterly unsuited for one another. Fire and ice.

Perhaps it stops when we finally put our love first.

Michael boarded, climbing the steps to the upper deck of the 747. The first class cabin attendants welcomed him with warm smiles. He saw her right away, leaning against the window beside her seat, lost in thought. Her attendant asked her a question, but she did not respond. The woman asked again, and Sophie looked up. And saw him. She had been crying.

It stops here. Now
. He would cause her no more tears.

“
Mana mila
.” He waved away the champagne the attendant pressed on him as he sat down beside her.

She leaned over to wrap her arms around him. “I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Michael shook his head. “The mistakes have been mine. I have nothing to forgive you for beyond a minor slip of your memory.” He buried his face in her bright hair and inhaled her scent. “It is your forgiveness I require.”

Sophie sighed again his neck, her voice filled with conflict. “I have lived my whole life without you, without anyone really. I am used to planning and making decisions on my own. So much so that now, when you are finally with me, I find it easier to exclude you.” Her cheek rested against his neck, and he could feel her tears against his skin. “I’ve never been good at working with you – working with anyone, really, except Will. I haven’t been any better in the last few weeks. How will we make this work when we’re home?”

“We have not had a conventional relationship, love. Neither of us is conventional.” Michael pulled back and traced her lower lip with his thumb. “We have been friends. We have been enemies.” Sophie smiled. “We have saved one another’s lives. And we are the most passionate of lovers.” She shivered in his arms. “Now it is time for us to be equals. This will take practice on both our parts.” He kissed her, relishing the feel of her lips. He’d meant it to be chaste, but was unable to prevent it from becoming more. Eventually, polite throat clearing beside them brought him back to reality.

“Dr. Trent? Ms. Swenda?” The attendant stood nearby, her eyes politely averted. “I apologize for interrupting. We’ll soon be taking off. Could I ask you to put on your seatbelts please?”

They broke apart, blushing. Michael buckled his seatbelt, forced himself to watch the safety video, and fantasized about sex at thirty-six thousand feet. As the jet took off in the winter twilight, he turned back to Sophie.

Sound asleep.

He gazed at her. Her face was drawn from her recent illness, stress and months of overwork and worry. He ran a fingertip over the dark circles under her eyes. She had risked everything for him. Now they were going back to New York, to safety. To start their life together.

Michael was going home with the woman he loved.

~~ - ~~

February 25, 2014

When Michael finally cleared US Customs and Border Protection shortly after midnight, Sophie waited for him on the other side of the doors, typing furiously on her iPhone, back propped against their luggage.

“You were only in the interview room for twenty minutes,” she said as he approached. “You’d think that someone reentering the country after an unexplained seven-month absence in a warzone would be subject to greater scrutiny.”

“I believe my father may have taken steps to smooth my return. I received a stern warning and a great deal of unsolicited advice on the perils of entering an active conflict zone.” He held out his hand and pulled her to her feet.

She hugged him tightly. “Welcome home, Mikael.”

“Thanks to you. And my father, it would seem. I think I will not be traveling again soon. My new friends in the Department of Homeland Security have indicated they would prefer if I stayed home for the next few months.”

They walked through the doors together, and Sophie spotted the Nariovsky-Trents immediately. His parents’ eyes bounced between them until they realized the stranger standing beside Sophie was indeed their son. He waved, and Signe burst into tears.

“Go.” She took the cart and gave him a little push.

Michael ran the rest of the way to his parents, picking up his mother to give her a ferocious hug. He kissed her, then embraced his father. Maxwell hugged his son tightly, tears in his eyes. Signe started to fuss about how skinny Michael was. But she stopped when Sophie approached with the luggage cart.

“Hello Signe, Maxwell.” She felt oddly shy. She’d known the Nariovsky-Trents for years, and she had no reason to suddenly feel different. Yet she did.