Harley sat in the backseat of the tiny Figaro she’d bought their first week here, letting Dom play chauffeur as she cuddled Jasper. She did her best to memorize the feel of her son’s firm, warm body fitted against hers and the way the setting sun turned his drying curls into a golden halo around his head. She tried not to think about Dom and Jasper flying away, leaving her alone to take care of her unfinished business. She had the names of Dom’s contacts in Bangkok, enough clay and other materials to make sure the statues with Marlowe’s drugs hidden inside were ready to ship by Friday, and an exit strategy. This was going to work. It had to work. It was past time to stop running and give Jasper the forever home they’d both been dreaming about for so long. “Update the blog when you get there so I know you’ve landed safely,” Harley said, avoiding eye contact with Dom as he fetched his and Jasper’s suitcases from the trunk.
