“Coffee,” I say, walking to him and handing him his cup.
“Thank you,” he says, accepting it from me, his blond hair laying in long, sexy layers, his green eyes giving me a keen inspection. “How are you?” he asks, sipping from his cup, and sighing. “Damn, I needed that.”
“I thought you might,” I say. “You haven’t slept at all. How are you?”
He sets the cup on the counter and pulls me in front of him. “I’m fine. And you just avoided telling me how you are.”
“No. I didn’t. I’m just…here. That’s how I am when I’m preparing for him. Just here. I want to get this day over with.”
“I understand,” he says, and he does mean it, but he doesn’t understand. No one can understand what Michael Alvarez does to me, except me. And I don’t want them to ever have to understand. “Tonight, we might not even be here anymore. You might be-”
“Don’t, please,” I say, flattening my hand on his chest. “I can’t think like that. I have to accept being here, to keep being here, you know that.”
He gives me a grim, reluctant nod. “I do,” he agrees. “Give me five minutes and we’ll leave.”
“Okay,” I say, and when he kisses my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin, I feel his dread merge with mine.
I slip away from him, entering the bedroom, and sitting down at the computer, and my heart squeezes with the message that appears in the live chatroom. It’s from my sister: How is Myla? It reads next to her name. I don’t even hesitate to answer. I type: Nervous but good.
Kara: Define good.
Again, I don’t even think. I just type something our mother used to say: Splendid, darling.
Kara: Myla?
I type: Yes. My chest tightens and I add: I love you. I miss you but if I talk to you-
Kara: I know. Stay focused. Stay strong. I want to pull you out of there, but I know I can’t and it’s killing me. But I am so very proud of you for what you’ve made possible. You’ve already saved lives. I love you.
I swipe at the dampness on my cheeks and stand up, only to find Kyle standing right behind me. “You saw?”
“I saw,” he confirms.
“It just felt like time.”
“Then it was time,” he says, but I see in his eyes what I already know. I just told him I couldn’t connect with the possibility of an outside world, but I just did just that. And I know why I did it. I was afraid that when this day was over, I wouldn’t be able to tell Kara I love her.
Kyle pulls me to him, and says exactly what he did three nights ago. “I told you. I found you. I’m not letting you go.” I believe him, but what I don’t say to him is that if it means protecting him and Kara, as well as all of those innocent women – if it means destroying Michael Alvarez so he can’t hurt anyone else – I might have to let him go.
Chapter Eighteen
Myla
Nothing happens. All day we wait, and wait, and wait some more for word from Michael, but nothing happens. Evening arrives, and Kyle and I linger in my office near closing, in no hurry to leave, simply because the building is surrounded and we’re protected. Finally though, it’s inevitable that we leave.
“He’ll be waiting for me at the hotel,” I say, packing up my briefcase. “That has to be what’s happening.”
“We’d know if he was there,” Kyle says, stepping to the front of my desk, his back to the open door.
“Like the FBI knew where he was the past fourteen months?”
“We’d know,” he reiterates.
“Forgive me if I’m not confident,” I say. “But I’m not confident.”
“Knock, knock.”
At the sound of Heather’s voice, Kyle steps aside, giving me a view of her holding up a white box with a red ribbon. “I was about to leave when this came for you,” she says, grinning with the excitement of the unknown, while my stomach knots with the certainty that Michael is near. “It looks exciting,” she says, rushing forward and setting it on my desk. “Can I see what it is?”
“I think it’s one of those gifts you look at by yourself,” I say, aware of Kyle’s heavy stare resting on me and the package.
She laughs, shoving long blonde hair behind her ear. “One of those fun packages. I’m jealous.” She eyes Kyle, who’s standing to the left of her, looking stoic and unaffected, when I know better. “Ah well, then,” she says. “Goodnight.”
“Night, Heather,” I say, watching as she leaves, Kyle right behind her to shut the door.
I grab the card on top of the box, trying to open it, but my stupid hand shakes. Kyle is there in an instant, opening it for me, and much to my distress, he reads it out loud: This is for your sexy photo shoot, bella. Another surprise to follow. Michael.
He gives me a hard stare, and grabs the box, and opens it to reveal a red lace bra and panty set, with garters. “What the fuck is this?”
“I told you-”
“You said there were some kind of photos, not that he wanted to turn you into a porn star.”
“I design lingerie, too.”