Day 4
Describing Rafe and Kiara as "on edge" would be the understatement of the century. It was akin to commenting that the Royal Merchant's gold was worth a lot of money.
Both of the captives were seated on Singh's private plane, which was not only luxurious but also made Kie feel like she was spitting in Greta Thunberg's face.
She hadn't thought much of her carbon footprint lately, which would surely come back to bite her in the ass in 30 years when the Outer Banks sank into the ocean, but, hey - that was future Kiara's problem.
The captives were sitting across from each other, in plush leather seats. The situation was made tense not only by the amount of bloodshed and curse words that had been hurled between them, but also by the gun-toting bodyguards sitting opposite them.
"The service here blows," Rafe commented. He sucked his lower lip in a bit, in a slight pout.
"Well," Kie said, "that's what you get for booking the kidnapping package." She turned in her seat to look at the guards.
"Right, my mistake." It still unnerved her to see him smile. They weren't comfortable with each other, far from it, but they were learning how to be around each other. "There's worse Pogues to be stuck on a plane with, though."
"There's worse Camerons to be stuck with, too." Kie almost smiled back, but kept herself from letting it spread across her face. God, if I spend any more time with him, I'm gonna develop Stockholm Syndrome, she thought, glancing around the plane. Obviously there was no opportunity to escape until they landed back home. But at least then, they'd be on her home turf.
"Yeah. I wonder how dear old Dad's doing without me. I'm sure he's already put out a- a whatever the adult version of an Amber Alert is, on me."
She noticed how Rafe stumbled over his words once he brought up Ward. Rafe had been calmer than the previous day, the one when he'd been on his knees in front of her. Although a calm Rafe Cameron was still more agitated than anyone else she'd ever met.
They hadn't spoken much about where Rafe was living with his family. For one, Kiara didn't really give a fuck. For another, the more she could keep out of his business, the safer she probably was.
"Well, Rose is grieving you deeply, I'm sure," Kie said. She had spent a fair amount of time with the Cameron's Evil Step-Rose back in her Kook year. There wasn't much love between them. Rose was just about as different as a human being could be from Kie's Marley-loving, turtle-saving, tree-hugging, no-single-use-plastic self.
Rafe looked out the window, not knowing how to answer. He wanted to keep the casual conversation going with Kiara - this was the most they'd talked since their first morning at Singh's - but he also didn't want to talk shit about his family.
Well, except Rose, obviously.
"I'm sure she's really torn up. Probably honoring me with her third glass of pinot on an empty stomach."
In Guadalupe, Rose Cameron swirled her wine glass. Ward was awake and asking about Rafe. Rafe, who needed therapy more than any person alive. He added nothing to her life and, in fact, was her biggest source of misery. Which was pretty high praise considering she'd lost the only life she'd ever known, to move to an island in the middle of nowhere.
Rafe didn't add anything valuable to their family. Other than looking good in the occasional family photo - which was extremely rare, as he was usually scowling.
So when Ward asked her where his son was, Rose told him that Rafe would be away for a while. He was on a trip to Jamaica, probably getting high.
"He said he had some sort of business," Rose trilled. She ran a French manicured finger over her husband's jaw. "You know Rafe. He'll come back, battered and bruised, with some big story."
