He left the office, nearly ripping the door off its hinges. She still managed to make him blindly angry, and that was because of the trauma of the prison. He wanted to get far away from all that pain, any pain really, and just be with his woman.
Gripp left headquarters quickly, letting the tension in his back fade into excitement. He wanted to see April and tell her everything. About how he was feeling, the life he wanted with her, everything. It wasn’t just the sex. It was much more transcendent.
Gripp researched the best quality jewelry stores in the area and explored all day, looking at each and every option the store owners offered. Eventually, he came across the one that just whispered April’s soft name like the touch of rain in spring.
It was a black-tone, round-cut sterling silver skull ring. April didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who pined for a fairy-tale engagement. She was a woman who focused on giving to others, to finding out the truth, and if someone came along who understood her enough to walk by her side, she could go with it.
Gripp desperately hoped he was that person.
He purchased the ring with the bit of money he’d received from the mission, plus the little that remained in his account from before the prison. It was in a black velvet box, and he placed it in his jacket, setting it close to his heart.
He had nothing left to do but to speak to her, to ask her the most important question of his lifetime. Gripp returned to the apartment he had been given, then tried to give her a call. April wasn’t answering, so he texted her instead.
He wasn’t nuts about texting, it seemed so impersonal, but he wanted to get into contact with her as soon as possible. He really couldn’t wait any longer.
Hi, honey, he wrote.I was curious if you had any plans for tonight. I would love to see you. Take you to dinner somewhere where we won’t be shot at.
Gripp sent the message, then spent the next twenty minutes obsessively checking his phone. He paced the room, his panther snarling inside him, wondering what in the hell she could be doing.
Was she rethinking everything with him? Was she doubting the fiery connection they had?
The thoughts bounced around Gripp’s mind like rapid firing arrows until he felt the vibration of his phone in his pocket. He whipped it out and nearly dropped it to the floor before checking the message.
It was April, thank God.
I would love to, she replied.
Gripp’s heart soared. He had never been out with a woman on an actual date before. He had been with women and tried to charm them in his way, but it had never worked out. Going out with April was going to mean everything to him. His entire future hung in the balance.
Gripp didn’t have much clothing, but he chose the best-looking ones he was able to. He showered and ran his hands through his curly locks, hoping water was enough to keep them tamed. He’d never wanted to groom himself before meeting April. She had seen him in the forest, sweaty and disgusting, yet, he still longed to look like a knight in shining armor for her.
He fixed his hair, adjusted his T-shirt and pants, and looked at himself in the mirror before leaving the apartment. His eyes were bright with both excitement and fear at the same time. His stomach was in terrible knots, and he felt like he just might vomit.
Someone had told him some time ago that that was what love felt like … being sick while longing for the sickness.
He scoffed at himself and left, patting at the little box in his pocket for good luck.
TWENTY-NINE
APRIL
After seeing her father very briefly, April had returned home to the apartment she rarely frequented. She was proud of herself for speaking up, and threw her purse on the couch in celebration, then poured herself a drink of whiskey.
She stood there in the dark, staring out the window, then raised it into the air.
“Here’s to the truth and all its consequences,” she whispered.
She shot back the drink, its hot rush of smokey taste causing her to grimace with delight. She returned to the kitchen to pour another when she heard a ding from her computer.
As a writer, April perpetually had her laptop computer on, and usually with the screen opened. She rarely ever shut it down, especially when she was at a stable place with good internet and electrical connections. She’d opened it immediately when she returned from Eblax, thankful that she had backed up all of her information on the cloud.
To keep her mind off Gripp, she wrote out all of the notes she had made in the forest and converted them to neat documents. She then uploaded the few videos and photos she had taken before the men had taken her. It seemed sufficient enough, so she sent it off to the news company she worked for.
Gillian Henderson was the editor at the company, a veteran writer and journalist who had seen all of the horrors their country and beyond had to offer. Gillian had written and published a few books about the Iraq war as well as the conspiracy theories behind the 9/11 attacks. She was someone April looked up to and whose opinion she held in high esteem.
Gillian replied to the email that contained all of the information about the corrupt government of Eblax and the enslavement of children within the mines. April read the email in Gillian’s husky, low tone of voice, which was often satisfying to listen to.
April, darling, the email read.You have outdone yourself, as usual. I think you’ve really got something here. I’ve touched base with some filmmakers in LA who are interested in shooting a documentary about Eblax. They replied pretty fast and would love for you to fly out to meet them.