Payback - John Hayes Series 06 (2020), стр. 11

17

John walked out onto the rear patio where Steve was sitting, staring out over the swimming pool. Beside him, Maadhavi looked up and smiled, then spying the glass in John’s hand and the bottle of beer, she nodded and stood. She leaned down, placed a kiss on Steve’s head, then, with a nod at John, walked back into the house.

John sat down and handed the bottle of beer to Steve.

“Cheers.”

Steve nodded and sat forward. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he took a long pull on the bottle, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I can’t leave her there, John.”

“I know.”

“You know, my ex-wife and I never had kids...” Steve shook his head. “We didn’t plan it that way. It just never happened.” He glanced at John. “It was probably for the best. Our marriage didn’t last. Imagine having kids as well.”

John nodded and sipped his drink, allowing Steve to talk it through.

“But Mia, she was the closest thing I had to a daughter. I still remember holding her in my arms when she was born.” Steve’s voice caught in his throat. “She was so tiny, she could fit on my forearm.” He stared down at the ground, the beer bottle dangling in his fingers. “She used to spend her school holidays with us. I’d take leave, and we would go camping, fishing. Just the two of us. She’d tell me things she could never share with her parents.” He sipped from the bottle again. “Then she met that fucking lowlife piece of shit.” He shook his head. “She changed, John. She withdrew, spent less time with me, started dressing differently. I should have done something.” Steve sighed and took a swig from his bottle.

“But I had my own issues, the divorce,”—he waved around the garden—“moving here. We lost touch. The day I found out she was in Syria was one of the worst days of my life. That shitbag of a boyfriend… if I could get my hands on him, I’d rip his fucking guts out.” Steve drained the bottle and placed it on the ground beside his chair and sat back, then turned to look at John.

“I’m not leaving her there. We all make wrong decisions in life, make mistakes, choose the wrong partners, but that doesn’t make us bad people. She’s a good girl, John, and she will always be the daughter I never had. I’ll never be able to live with myself if I don’t try to save her.”

John swirled the ice cubes around in his glass, listening to the tinkle of the ice. Taking a sip, he held the liquid in his mouth, savoring the flavor of the gin on the tastebuds at the back of his mouth, then swallowed.

“It won’t be easy.”

“I know.”

“We could die.”

“We?”

John grinned. “You didn’t think I would let you do this by yourself, did you?”

Steve reached over and clasped a giant hand on John’s shoulder.

“I hoped you’d say that. That’s why I called you.” His eyes misted, and he gripped John’s shoulder hard and gave him a shake. “Thanks, mate. I mean it.”

“Well, I never bought you that beer after you helped me in Oman.” He shrugged, “It’s the least I can do.” John stood. “Come, we can plan tomorrow after a goodnight’s sleep. Let’s get another drink and see what our beautiful ladies are up to.”

18

John slept fitfully that night. After a big dinner and three or four large gin and tonics, he had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow but had woken hours later drenched in sweat, his heart pounding, and filled with a sense of unease. After that, he couldn’t get back into a decent sleep, tossing and turning. Every time he closed his eyes, his head filled with images of blood and sand. In the end, he gave up and laid, staring at the ceiling. Eventually, he reached over to the bedside table and picked up his G-Shock. The luminous dial read five fifteen, and it was still dark outside, the sun not due to be up for another hour and a half.

John turned his head and looked over at Adriana. The ambient light filtering through the window was just enough to make out the details of her features, her thick mane of raven hair framing her face against the crisp white pillow. Her breathing was deep and steady through slightly parted lips, and he envied her ability to sleep so soundly. He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow and gazed at her. Even in the faint light, he could make out the fine lines of her face, the high cheekbones, her long eyelashes, her nose. She was perfect.

He would do anything for her, in fact, he had—risking his own life for her, more than once. She was everything to him, and he was happier than he had been in years—since he lost Charlotte. Charlotte had also made him feel this way. He felt a heavy sensation in his chest. Was he making a mistake? He was going to risk losing the woman he loved by taking on the most dangerous task he had ever faced. Was it worth it?

John’s heart started pounding again, and he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He needed to do something. He padded quietly across the room to his open suitcase lying on the floor. Carefully and quietly, he removed his running gear and got dressed. Picking up his running shoes, he tiptoed to