“They should at least let you get some rest,” she said, concern making her voice rigid. “It’s not like this is your actual job. You’re doing the FBI a favor. You don’t owe them.”

“I know, honey, but in a way they’re doing us a favor too. You know that. Besides, it really wouldn’t matter,” I soothed. “I’m here now. You know I’m not going to be able to rest until this is over. I’m amazed I actually fell asleep on the flight.”

“Aye, I know…I know…”

“So, how are you doing?” I asked, changing the subject out of self-defense.

Felicity wasn’t going to allow it. “I’m fine. I’m just worried about you.”

“Well don’t. I’m doing okay.”

“We both know better than that, Rowan Linden Gant.”

She always invoked a maternalesque use of my full name whenever she wanted to make it clear that she was serious-especially if being relatively soft-spoken, as she was right now. Other than simply agreeing with the statement, I didn’t have an answer that wouldn’t be just another lie meant to protect her from the horrors that had become my world, so I said nothing.

After a healthy pause she demanded, “Promise me you won’t take any unnecessary chances then.”

“I promise.”

“You’re lying again,” she sighed.

“Yeah…but in my defense, you knew I would.”

“Aye… I did…” She paused again before adding, “I have a bad feeling about this, Row…”

I told the truth this time. “Yeah… Me too, honey. Me too…”

“Very bad…” she whispered.

The airplane had finally stopped moving, tones had chimed, and seatbelts signs had gone dark. Passengers both ahead of and behind us were crowding the aisle to wrestle carry-ons from the overhead bins, compounding the already claustrophobic atmosphere of the passenger jet’s cabin.

I hated for the call to end, but at the same time I knew if I stayed on the line with Felicity any longer, it was only going to make us both worry that much more. I had the distinct impression she was feeling the same way but simply couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye.