Kyle
Myla starts to shake when we get in the air, in shock, but with good reason. She’s been through hell and back. But the ride is short and we land at a private airstrip off Long Island, where there’s a surprise waiting on her that even I didn’t know about until minutes ago. I get her the heck off the chopper, and Luke rushes forward, offering her a warm blanket, which I wrap around her shoulders.
“Myla, I’m Luke,” he says. “You kicked ass today and you’re safe now.”
“You look like Royce,” she says, her teeth chattering.
“But better looking, right?”
She laughs, but it’s a choked sound. “Yes,” she says, “but I’m going to tell him the same thing.”
Luke laughs now too, and looks at me. “You’re fueled up and ready to go.”
“Thanks, man.”
“We’ll see you both back stateside.” He steps around us and we start for the plane.
“Where are we going exactly?” Myla asks as we approach the plane.
“Out of the country until we’re sure everything with Alvarez is cleaned up.” I motion for her to head up the narrow stairs and follow her up.
She rounds the corner into the plane and it’s Kara’s screech of joy that tells me the surprise is now revealed. I enter just in time to find the two sisters clinging to each other, tears flowing, the two of them settling into seats just inside the door. I move past them and Blake greets me, his hands on the luggage bins, mine on the seats on either side of us. “Fuck, man,” he says, sounding emotional. “I can’t believe he’s dead. I feel…I don’t know what the fuck I feel.”
I flash back to Blake holding Whitney, rocking her in a pool of her own blood, and I know this moment is surreal for him, “It’s over,” I say, “and as pissed off as I am that you came back to the States and didn’t tell me, I’m glad you’re here now. Italy will be good for Myla. She needs a safe escape to heal. And she needs time with Kara.”
“You and Myla-”
“I love her, so if you’re going to lecture me…”
“No, man. Just don’t hurt her. Then I’ll have to pull your fucking balls out through your throat.”
“Kyle.”
At the sound of Myla’s voice, I turn and she hugs me. Kara’s standing behind her, and when her eyes meet mine, there are tears of thanks in them. I give her a nod and bury my face in Myla’s hair, holding onto her and planning to never let go.
***
Myla
We arrive in Italy to discover that seventy women were saved through our efforts from various parts of the United States and Mexico. It’s balm to my soul, but not the entire cure. It seems there is a process I must endure, and my detox begins. It’s as if Michael was a poison my body and mind are rejecting. There are nightmares and bad memories, but Kyle is there for me at every turn, as is my sister, and even Blake, who becomes like a big brother. And then there is Ella, who Blake and Kara were hired to find, but she’s another story. I have moments when I worry that I have no job or money, but between Kyle, my sister, and Blake, I end up with a sketchpad in my hand and they force me to design again. Royce takes the lead with the FBI to get all my designs back, but it’s like all such things. Time will tell. It’s healing and so is just getting to explore the Italian fashion world.
Three months pass and Kyle asks me to live with him in New York. How could I say no? I have two best friends now. Him and my sister.
We arrive on a hot June afternoon, our taxi pulling up to the high rise tower near Central Park. A doorman takes our luggage, and is even delivering it to the tenth floor, where I’m pretty excited to realize I now live with him. His arm drapes my shoulders and he guides me toward the sliding glass doors. “I can’t wait to see the apartment you chose for yourself,” I say.
Kyle’s hip is pressed to mine, his faded jeans hugging his powerful thighs the same way his “Italy” t-shirt hugs his defined upper body.
“Just remember we can redecorate,” he says as we enter the lobby, the cool air washing over me, seeing the fancy art deco paintings on the wall, and thinking suddenly that my sparkly black flat sandals aren’t enough to dress up my own jeans and t-shirt.
“I need to make a stop here on the lower level,” he says, angling us down a hallway, and into what appears to be a retail area. “We have shopping right here in the building?” I ask, eager to dive into the New York fashion world and find out where I can take my designs.
Kyle stops at a closed door in between two stores, and I figure it must be some sort of storage area. He opens it and motions for me to go inside. “Is there a light?” I ask, stepping into the darkness.