12| the difficult part

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Portland, Maine 3:30 PM

"This is ridiculous," she grumbled for the hundredth time since boarding the private jet. "Why can't ya just protect me in Buffalo?"

"Because our force is larger in Portland," Wyatt said.

She glared at Agent Daniel mouth moving a mile a minute as he sat at the bar on his phone.

"Who is he talking to?"

Wyatt shrugged, eyes glued to his own cellphone. "I don't know. Maybe his mother."

"He doesn't look too happy," she said.

"Who cares?"

"Agh," Christina moaned rubbing her hands along the pair of jeans that was given to her. Once they had boarded the plane, she wasted no time to change out of the ruined dress.

She turned to look towards the back of the plane where a thick curtain separated them from her mom's coffin. Two agents sat back there guarding the coffin as if someone was going to pop out of thin air and steal it.

The intercom buzzed on. "Good evening ladies and gents, this the Captain speaking. We have clearance to land. Please return to your seats, buckle in, and turn off all electrical devices. Allow me to be the first to say, welcome to Portland, Maine."

Christina shuffled into the next seat and buckled in. She peered out the window and realized the plane had lowered closer to the ground at some point. Already, she could see houses and buildings that looked to have shrunk into a miniature toy set. Mountains and clutters of wooded areas were everywhere.

Turbulences began to racket against the plane and she touched the arm of the chair beside her out of habit. Instead of the chair, she accidently grabbed Daniel's hand.

"Oh sorry," she said wondering when he had sat.

"Mhm," he said in disgust removing his hand as if she would do it again.

She swallowed down a sudden quake of tears remembering the many times she and her mom had flown on a plane. They always enjoyed themselves, stuffing their faces with food, playing trivia games, and whispering about random people who'd cross their path.

"Are you scared?"

She glanced at Daniel who fumbled with the tip of his tie. She remembered how much she wanted to strangle him, but now it didn't feel like the right moment to do so.

"No," she said. "I was just thinking about my mom. She uh... she was always scared of flying but she would do so anyways. She was strong and bold. I would hold her hand and she would relax."

Now she lied in a coffin at the back of a private jet owned by the CIA.

After a short silence, the agent nibbled on his bottom lip. "I hate flying too."

"You do?" she said not taking him as the type to be scared of anything. She then grinned. "Do you want me to hold your hand, Special Agent Daniel Makrawski?"

He cut his stormy eyes at her, and to her surprise, he looked close to bursting into a laugh. He shook his head. "Touch me and you'll be sharing your mother's coffin back there."

Christina's smile washed away into an annoyed scold. "I hate you so much."

"And I hate you," he grumbled continuing to fumble with his tie.

"I hope we crash," she taunted receiving his scorned eyes. She returned her attention to the scene out the window.

Fortunately, they did not crash. They landed just as the clock struck 3:30. Not wasting any time, the agents hustled her into another service car and drove her into Portland. She took the opportunity to take in every part of the city in her line of sight. The air smelt fresh with misty rain giving the city a dreary yet comforting mood. Unlike New York, there seemed to be less people and less activity, especially as they entered wooded areas.

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