The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea (The Devils #2)(82)

“Hey, Ben,” I say to his voicemail, “when you’re drawing all this up, can you do one more thing? I want to give fifteen million dollars to this refugee camp in Somalia.” I know I’ve got that much liquid right now and I’ll send more later. “And half of it has to be earmarked for security.”

I’m somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean right now—groundless, without a manager, without a record deal or an assistant, and soon to be without most of my money. None of it matters. Josh is the one thing, of all the things I had, that I wish was still mine.





It’s early evening when we arrive in Ethiopia. The air is sweltering, Beth seems exhausted, and just as I’m kicking myself for not arranging transportation, I see a driver holding a sign with the names Bailey/Andreyev on it. Ben has taken care of everything.

Beth’s been told that some of the survivors of the shooting are already on the plane to Ethiopia, so we go straight to the hospital. The first person I see when we enter the emergency room is Sabine. Her eyes go wide and then she launches herself at me, as if I’m family. “Thank you for coming,” she says and she starts crying. “They won’t tell us anything. Please. Do you have news? Please.”

That small, terrified voice inside me thinks: She doesn’t sound like a friend or a colleague. But this is about Josh, and I just want him to be happy, even if it’s not with me. “I don’t know anything.”

She buries her face in her hands. “I should have stayed with him,” she says and she starts to cry. Her friends console her and I walk away with Beth.

“Who was that?” Beth asks. “Is she his girlfriend?”

My stomach sinks. Even Beth thinks there was something there. “I don’t know,” I reply, my heart so heavy it hurts. It doesn’t matter. “She’s someone he works with, I think.”

I know Six has arrived when I hear Jim’s disgusted exhale. I resent him for it, but I understand it as well—even from a distance it’s clear Six is worse for wear. He’s wearing sunglasses inside and I can smell his pot-and-beer odor from five feet away. He hugs his mother, then me.

“Thanks for helping my parents,” he says against my ear. “Can we talk later, once we know the deal with Josh?”

“There is absolutely nothing to discuss,” I reply, detaching myself. “I didn’t do this for you.”

There’s a commotion at the door before he can even react. A gurney is coming in, led by two guys in flight suits. The patient is on oxygen, has lines going everywhere. I clutch Beth’s arm until the guy’s face comes into view.

“It’s not him,” I whisper, relieved and devastated at once. I don’t want Josh to have been badly hurt, but I’d take that over other alternatives. Suddenly, Beth’s legs start to give out. I catch her and Jim sprints across the room to help me get her into a chair.

“I’m sorry,” she cries with her face in her hands. “I was so scared and then it wasn’t him and now I wish it was. He’s still my baby.” Jim places a hand on her back and my eyes tear up yet again. I’ve only known Josh a fraction of the time they have and I’m devastated. I can’t imagine what this must be like for them.

The next time the doors open, I brace myself. It won’t be him. Don’t get your hopes up.

And then I stand to get a better look and clutch the plastic waiting room chair beside me to stay upright, covering my mouth to hide the strangled sob that leaves my throat.

Josh.

He’s bare-chested and there’s a makeshift bandage around his shoulder that’s soaked in blood. He’s being pushed through the doors in a wheelchair, but he’s alive. Tears roll down my face at the sight of him, pale and exhausted, barefoot, covered in dirt. But alive. Thank God.

His family surges forward while I stay behind, watching as he rises from the wheelchair—ignoring the outcry from the soldier pushing him. He hugs his mom, his father, even Six. Sabine and the other two nurses have rushed toward him as well.

I want to stand here and stare at him until I’ve had my fill. I want more than that, but I’d settle simply for the sight of him. Except, my part in this is done. I wanted to know he was safe, and that will have to be enough. I’m not going to make an awkward situation worse.

I take another step backward and look for an exit. It was always my plan to leave once we got news. I just didn’t realize how much it would actually hurt to see him and walk away.

Suddenly, his mother is pointing toward me and his head jerks my way, astonished. His eyes lock with mine, and it makes me so happy and hurts so much at the same time.

I give him a small, pathetic wave, accompanied by a small, pathetic smile. One that says Hi there and I’m glad you’re okay and I get it, this is weird, but I’m playing along.

And then he’s pushing past them, breaking through the crowd to reach me. He stops when he’s a foot away and I’m frozen, uncertain how to be this near him without pressing my face to his chest, without throwing my arms around him. I was right, I guess, when I said it would never work. It still doesn’t work.

“You came all the way here for me,” he says.

I swallow. “Of course I did,” I say roughly, and then there are tears rolling down my face.

“Because you love me.”

I nod. “Yes. But your family—”