by Meli Raine
“You're making it official? Her parents know?”
“They do now.”
“You realize we have to take you off her case?”
“I know.”
“You're making this messier than it has to be.”
“Bet you did the same with Jane.”
“Sure did.”
More silence.
“You tell me what to do, Silas.”
“Go eat a good dinner with Lily and live life. When we need you, I'll call. For now, just keep an eye on her.”
“I'll keep two on her.”
That gets me a small laugh. “You're such a dick, Duff. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Only the people who like me.”
Beep.
He ends the call. Lily gives me a look across the restaurant's foyer. I shrug.
“Schedule change,” is all I say before the hostess appears with two menus in her hand, a smile on her face, and a table for us.
A table where I will pretend someone didn't just try to destroy Alice's ranch.
And every shred of evidence in it.
Chapter 16
Lily
First dates are such a crapshoot.
This one, though, is going to work out. I have a good feeling about this guy.
We're at a fancy restaurant known for great steaks, one wall of the dining room a series of big windows overlooking a beautiful lake. For people who live on the coast, the ocean always churning no matter what, staring out at a placid body of water is a treat. Sean chose this place, the dim lighting and dark leather like something out of an old movie from the 1950s.
I feel elegant.
Adult.
Wanted.
Sean's fingers play with mine on the table, our other hands holding glasses filled with a lovely red wine. I'm sipping slowly, almost done. I can't have too much to drink, but the doctors relented. One glass. Maybe two.
That's all I want, anyway.
I don't need to get tipsy, and certainly have no desire to get drunk. But one perfect glass of merlot is a lifeline to normalcy. More than symbolic, it anchors me.
It stakes me.
“You're beautiful,” Sean says, not smiling, eyes intense. Worlds are inside those eyes, his inner life on display, the irises radiating clear blue emotion I can match with a simple blink. We’re dressed up, the pattern of his tie a perfect complement for my burgundy cocktail dress. We're a couple.
We're getting closer to normal.
My fingers rise to my cheek, the impulse to cover the scars behind my ear so automatic. I pull my hand out from his grasp without meaning to, his own reflex kicking in as he grasps my wrist, pulling it towards him instead.
“Sean, I–”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, you don't get to diminish what I'm saying. You don't get to cover what I find so alluring. You. All of you.” His lips press against my pulse.
Which quickens.
Just then, the waiter appears. “More wine?” His English is lightly accented, but he's obviously from France.
Sean looks right at the man and says something in French. The server beams and turns away. Agog, I stare at my date.
“You speak French?”
“Just enough to get myself into trouble.”
“That sounded like more than 'just enough.'”
He reaches for my hand again, thumb brushing my wrist. “That's not the kind of trouble I want to get into tonight.” A sexy smile plays on his lips.
“What kind of wine did you order?”
“Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Pierre André.”
“Red or white?”
He bursts out laughing, then goes somber quickly.
Too quickly.
My eyes dart to his chest, to the spot where he keeps his phone.
“Sean,” I ask, leaning in. He mimics me, clearly thinking I want a kiss.
Instead I ask, “What was that call about?”
Duff
I have to tell her.
Behind me, a small string quartet begins to play, light-hearted music with a slower beat. The composer escapes me–probably because music is not my forte–but my mind struggles to match the pattern, wanting a diversion from what I know I must do.
Tell her.
Opening my mouth feels like I'm dragging a boulder up a mudslide. The words are there. I have to say it. I have to explain that Alice's ranch has been burned by operatives who work for Stateless. Silas didn't say that, exactly, but of course it's true.
Stateless wants to erase all evidence that it exists.
Does that include me?
Does that include Lily?
“Here we are,” the waiter interrupts, pouring a glass for me to taste. I take a sip, knowing it’s an amazing wine, but my mouth is filled with the bitter flavor of resignation. I nod with a half smile, doing whatever it takes to make him go away. Smart and intuitive, he fills our glasses and does just that.
By the time he leaves, I look across the table to find Lily staring out the window, her face in profile. Long, clean lines make her neck elegant, the skin pulled tight across her jaw, eyes soft.
“I shouldn't have another glass before dinner,” she whispers, eyes on the water outside, the lake glowing in the night.
Oh, yes, you should, I think. This news will be easier to take if you're a little drunk.
I don't say that. And I don't want that. What I want is Lily all to myself, to spend this evening having fun, relaxing, getting to know each other better over a delicious meal. We're all dressed up and playing the Normal Game. It's nice to try this life on once in a while, even if the suit doesn't quite fit.
“What is it?” she asks, eagle eyes on mine. “Something about that phone call.”
I guzzle half my glass of wine. Fine grenache shouldn't be consumed as liquid fortitude, but beggars can't be choosers.
“Sean?”
“Jane's home was set on fire today.”
Lily drops her water glass.
Fortunately, it’s empty. And it lands in her lap. Fumbling, she picks it up and sets it on the table, but sideways.
I stand, moving over to her side of the table, bending down. We're at eye level as she processes what I just said.
“The ranch? It's–Jane? Silas? Are they safe?”
“No one was injured.”
“Why would–” Her eyes widen impossibly. “Oh, God. Alice's papers.”
“Yes.”
“The investigation into Stateless?”
I don't even need to answer her.
Lily's chest begins to rise and fall rapidly, her breath picking up. The pulse at her neck visibly quickens, a blue vein jumping like a rabbit. Her face flushes, eyes going glassy.
Maybe it's the alcohol and the stress of what I've just told her, but a spike of fear shoots through me.
Fear for her.
“Lily, take a deep breath.”
She doesn't look at me.
“We can order and have dinner and–”
Pushing me away, she stands awkwardly, like a robot.
Then she storms out of the restaurant.
The waiter rushes over. I grab my wallet, pull out my credit card and license, and throw them on the table. “Emergency,” I say. “I'll be back later. We're done.”
Before he can reply, I run after Lily. When I get outside the restaurant, there's no sign of her. Now I'm the one who is breathing hard, heart rate shooting through the roof. Where is she? She's disappeared, as if she's been taken.
Impossible.
“Lily!” I call out. A few couples walking into the restaurant give me puzzled looks. I ignore them, turning to the left, moving to my SUV and looking inside.
She's not there.
How far could she go? In high heels, she can't have much of a head start.
Crash!
The sound of glass shattering in the distance makes my body flush. Racing towards the sound, I brace myself. Did a car hit her? Is she in the street?
>
Crash!
The same sound of glass breaking. Once is an accident. Twice is a pattern.
Crash!
Three times? That's my cue.
Cutting around the side of the restaurant, I rush down a narrow alley towards the sound, skirting a huge dumpster to find Lily in her elegant dress, poised on her heels, arm raised as she holds up an empty green wine bottle.
And hurls it at the brick wall behind the dumpster.
Crash!
“I am never going to be safe!” she huffs, reaching down into a crate of empty wine bottles. She grabs one–this time, clear glass with a small mauve label on it–and hurls it.
Crash!
I step back out of the resulting spray of shards.
Tears stream down her face, ruining her carefully applied makeup, anger a living, breathing entity on her skin. I'm relieved to find her, adjusting my internal state from fear to assurance. There's another emotion coming, but I need a few seconds to process it.
So I watch.
I watch her shatter glass.
I know why she's doing it.
It's so she doesn't shatter.
People need an outlet for oversized emotions. Some turn to alcohol or drugs. Others to sex. Still more use food. Seeking thrill or comfort, risk or reward, we crave control.
In whatever form that takes for each person.
“Those fuckers!” Lily screams.
Crash!
The back door opens, a young guy with a neck like an ostrich peeking his head out, white chef's jacket contrasting with the old brick walls. I wave him off. He disappears.
“Lily,” I say, stepping around broken glass. The mosaic on the ground glitters up at me, beautifully damaged.
Pulling out another bottle, she holds it by the neck, shoulders slumping as she looks at me. “Who is next? Are they going to torch my parents' house? Run Bowie off the road while he's driving to band practice? Set fire to the flower shop? Where does this end, Sean?”
“I don't know.”
“YOU SHOULD!” she screams, throwing the bottle at the wall. It hits, but doesn't break, bouncing to the ground in defiance.
“I wish I did.”
“You're supposed to know everything! You're the great Duff, the stoic bodyguard who keeps people safe!”
“I'm just a man, Lily. A man who is flawed.”
“BUT I NEED TO KNOW!”
“Need to know what?”
“WHY? WHY ME? Why am I caught up in this mess?”
“I don't know. I wish I had an answer for you.”
“Will I ever feel safe?”
“You're breaking my heart here, Lily. I wish I could be the man you want me to be.”
Stopping dead in her tracks, she looks at me, raw and real. “That's not what I meant.”
And then she crumples.
I catch her.
Sobbing into my shirt, she shudders, wordless. All I can do is hold her.
At least I can do that.
“I wish I had answers,” I murmur into her hair, loving the smell of her, loving every part of her, even the glass-shattering fury that drives her to destroy. “I wish I had more to offer you than 'I don't know.' Because I want to give you everything, Lily. Every part of me, and all the parts of the world you deserve. I can't guarantee I can make you safe, Lily, but I can tell you this.”
She pulls back and looks up at me.
“I'll die trying.”
Chapter 17
Lily
Bzzzzz.
I ignore my phone.
Bzzzzz.
I ignore my phone even harder.
I'm in the middle of one of my two doctor-approved cups of coffee. The dining table faces the glass slider to the back yard. A squirrel is terrorizing hummingbirds at the feeder Dad put out there when I was little. It's eight-thirty in the morning and I'm a zombie. I haven't seen Sean in nearly a week because he's been in Texas, helping Silas and Jane with the resulting mess from the fire.
Two black SUVs and a rotation of guys in dark clothing watch over me.
I'm so done with people.
Bzzzzz.
“Would you get your phone?” Gwennie shouts from the living room.
“Why?”
“Because it's bugging me! Turn your phone off if you don't want texts!”
I reach for it to do exactly what she says when it rings.
If I didn't see the words Jane Borokov pop up on the screen, I wouldn't answer.
But I do.
“Hi,” I say, not even trying to hide my emotions.
“Lily,” she says in a tone matching mine. “You ignored my texts.”
“Yup.”
“You're ignoring the world.”
“Mm hmm.” I take a sip of coffee.
“Want to do it together?”
“Do what?”
“Ignore the world.”
“I'm ignoring everyone.”
“Ignore everyone except me.”
“Okay. How?”
“Silas rented us a beach house in SoCal while the work crews come to the ranch and renovate. It's got six bedrooms. There's a separate one-bedroom suite for you.”
“For me?”
“Do it! Come stay with us. Bring Sean.”
“What do you mean, 'bring Sean'?”
“You've wanted to get out from under your parents' thumbs for a while. This is the perfect way to do it. Stay with me for a few months–”
“MONTHS?”
“Spend as much time as you want with Sean, and have time to heal.”
Heal.
I really hate that word. Heal, Lily sounds an awful lot like you're talking to a dog. Like I'm being ordered to perform on command. As if healing were under my control.
As if I'm disobeying by not healing.
“I don't know.”
“How can I convince you?”
“I can't just up and move in with you, Jane.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s too generous!”
“It’s not being generous if I really want you, and I do.”
“Is this because you still feel guilty?”
“No. It's because I like you, and Silas wanted a huge place so we could entertain. And by 'entertain,' I mean have more than enough room for all the security personnel Silas insists on having on site. Also, there's a 500-foot private beach that can be guarded easily. We had limited options, and all of them were big. I have so much extra space, and it'll be lonely there. Please come, Lily. Please.” Her words all climb on top of each other in a rush of urgency.
Wow.
“You're making it hard to say no.”
“Does that mean yes?”
“Let me talk to my parents.”
“You don't need their permission.”
“Not for permission. More to... let them know.”
She squeals. “You're coming, aren't you?”
I stare at the squirrel, who starts chasing a baby squirrel into a thicket of bushes, disappearing. Gwennie's playing some multi-player game in the living room, headset with microphone on. She's talking to a fellow player, figuring out how to get over a waterfall.
I feel like I'm in a kayak, the current turning to whitecaps and fast rapids, the waterfall before me.
Instead of fear, I feel excitement. Adventure. Curiosity.
Maybe I really can heal. Away from Mom and Dad, Bowie and Gwennie. Away from fear.
With a friend.
On the beach.
And with Sean there?
A fresh start is exactly what I need after my false start.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes.”
Jane starts clapping, the sound like a quick heartbeat, like the flutter of a hummingbird's wings.
For the first time in a long time, I feel something other than the maelstrom of damage.
I feel true hope.
Duff
Money doesn't buy happiness, but it does pay for a six-bedroom house on a tenth of a mile of private beach in Sou
thern California, and that's as close to happiness as most people ever get.
We're here at Jane and Silas’s rented beach “cottage,” a sprawling, mid-century contemporary home built into a hill, with a series of staircases leading down to a pristine beach. California law declares that beaches are public below the high-tide line, but between security guards and the fact that this area is hard to reach on foot, it's as close to private as you'll find here.
And that's good enough for Silas when it comes to keeping Jane safe.
“Beer?” Silas asks, pointing to the fridge. “Or wine?”
“Wine, please.”
He offers me a glass of Screaming Eagle cab. It's complex and full-bodied, the taste giving me something to focus on. I'm here for the night, on Lily's invitation. She told me to pack a bag.
I did.
Condoms included.
Socializing with Silas for anything other than work leaves me in a state of clumsy confusion. I don't know how to be anything but his direct report. We're in the kitchen, barefoot and wearing swimsuits and t-shirts. There are trays of shrimp and cheese, vegetables with hummus and grapes. We've been picking at the food for a couple of hours, and as night settles in, he's ordered Thai delivery.
Are we friends? This is what friends do.
Just hang out.
Jane appears, followed by Lily, both grinning. “Check out the hot tub,” she says, wrapping her arms around Silas's waist, kissing his shoulder.
Lily's eyes meet mine.
Something in my chest tugs.
A warm glow pours through my body. It's not the wine. The look she gives me is full of nothing but fun, a relaxed, effervescent expression. Her whole body is in that grin.
Maybe this is how you build a life.
With smiles like that.
Lily walks over to me, takes my hand, and leads me to the enormous deck. When I say deck, I'm talking about a space the size of half a football field, complete with a hot tub next to a heated pool. No expense has been spared here. Lily removes her cover-up and gingerly lowers herself into the steaming water, her bikini top holding pert breasts that give me an image of my mouth on them, hungry for the connection we both desperately need.
I strip off my t-shirt and climb in next to her, fast, before the way I feel about her is made painfully public.
The hot water does the trick, simultaneously revving me up and covering my sins. I reach for Lily and soon we're in a kiss, the kind that transports you to a new place you discover you've needed for your whole life.
