I grab my slippers from the closet and step into them, then turn off the bedside light before heading back into the living room.
As I come back out of the bedroom with my slippers, he hands me my mug. "You can bring that with us. Are you ready?"
I nod as I blow across the top of the mug and finally take a sip. It's really good.
"Come on, sweetheart," he says, and I follow him to the door.
I smile at the term sweetheart, something so simple yet so powerful at the same time. He's called me sweetheart before, but somehow, here in this apartment, it means more.
THIRTEEN
Connor is standing on the other side of the door when Mikah opens it. "Good morning, sir," he says quickly.
"Good morning, Connor. We're just going up to my apartment."
Connor nods quickly and steps aside.
Mikah and I head down the hall and Connor, thankfully, doesn't follow.
When we reach the elevator, Mikah slides a card in a reader over the arrows and presses up. "I'll give you this card. In order to come upstairs, you need to swipe it, then press the up arrow. You're welcome upstairs anytime you want," he says as the elevator chimes and the doors open.
Once again I notice that I'm standing slightly behind Mikah as we step inside the elevator.
Mikah pushes the button for the seventh floor and the doors close. He switches his mug from his right hand to his left, then slowly brings his arm down to his side. His fingers brush against the back of my hand. I turn it slightly, opening it to him, and he takes it into his. A charge develops between us and I can't stop myself from smiling.
The elevator chimes again and the doors open on a small entryway, about ten by ten feet. Andrew is standing in front of the only door.
"Good morning, sir," Andrew says. He directs a friendly smile at me. "Good morning, ma'am," he says sweetly, and I know I blush crimson.
"Good morning," I say back shyly as Mikah lets go of my hand and reaches for the door.
We step into a small hallway and Mikah releases my hand to close the door behind us.
"Does he always stand there?"
Mikah grins. "No. I'd mentioned to Celeste before you woke up that I might bring you up here. She obviously told them, and they made adjustments. Security on my floor is tighter than on yours. You really can only access this floor by keycard, the pass code does not work." He's looking at me with a reassuring look on his face. "There are cameras throughout this building. Anytime seven is pressed, it activates an alarm in Red's apartment, one on his phone, and a video feed showing who is in the elevator. He also has a control to stop the elevator if someone who should not be here managed to gain access."
Holy crap, it's like a fortress in here. Suddenly I feel safer than I've ever felt in my entire life. I know my eyes are wide and Mikah can sense my immediate mood change.
"I will let nothing happen to you," he says then smiles. "Come on, let’s have a look, shall we?"
I nod and he takes my hand again.
The hallway is similar to mine, only shorter and with only one door on the left-hand side. We reach it, and Mikah opens it up.
We go through the door into a living room that has plush gray carpeting, a coffee table, an L-shaped couch similar to the one downstairs, and a massive TV surrounded by speakers. Shelves beneath the TV hold a ton of movies. The lone door on the opposite wall is closed. I turn around to find that the door we've just come through is flanked by two massive bookshelves stacked full of books.
"Do you like to read?" Mikah asks me softly.
"I love to read," I reply and walk toward the shelves. When you do anything you can to avoid being at home, sometimes the library is the only place you can go. The books are arranged in alphabetical order by author and range in type from thrillers to romance to classic literature. "You have good taste," I say as I pull out Louisa May Alcott's Little Women.
I hear him snicker. "I suppose. I have several books, including that one, that were my mother’s."
I gently place the book back on the shelf.
"You're more than welcome to help yourself to anything you see here. If there is something you'd like to read that isn't here, let me or Celeste know and we will get it for you."
I look over my shoulder at him. "There are more books here than I could ever imagine in one private library. I'm sure I can keep myself entertained with this lot."
As I turn to face him, he heads toward the door on the opposite wall and opens it to reveal a hallway. I go through, and he follows close behind.
The floor here is hardwood, and this hallway is longer than the one on the other side. An open door directly in front of me reveals a toilet and sink. Then I notice a closed door to my left.
"That leads to the stairwell and is often what Red uses to come upstairs," Mikah says.
He leads me toward the right. We pass by a couple of closet doors along the left wall, and then the hallway opens up into a rather large space. The wall in front of me from here to the end of the room is made entirely of glass, and on the other side is a large patio with the same view of the river as I have from my patio downstairs. At various points all along the glass wall there are doors that lead out onto the patio.
The room itself is cavernous, with ceilings at least two floors high. The floor is a beautiful light hardwood that stands out against the dark furniture. Between us and the patio is a large dining room table set for eight, and at the far end of the room to the left is a sitting area, with tall chairs in a loose circle formation around a coffee table. To the right is the kitchen, done in the same cupboards and countertops as my apartment: dark wood cabinets and black countertops with stainless steel appliances. I put my mug on the counter.
Behind me I hear a door click open. I turn toward Mikah, who has been silent while I’ve been looking around his apartment.
"And this is my bedroom," he says, and again I see the tension in his features.
He flips on a light. I cross over to him and take a step into the room, and my heart stops.
FOURTEEN
I can't focus on anything besides the king size, four-poster bed that dominates the room. It's the bed, the one from the dream I had the other night at the hospital. The one where...
I let the thought end there as the image of Mikah and me, cuddled inside this very same bed with its tall canopy and stacked block posts, fills my mind.
I look to Mikah, who is still tense. Was he in that dream, too? Did he see us as I saw us?
"It's beautiful," I breathe, and he relaxes. I’m not sure whether he’s tense because he is showing me his room or whether it has something to do with that dream.
"The closet and bathroom are to your left," he says, and something is different in his voice. It's almost husky.
I look in that direction and see a large opening into a closet area. His clothes are hung neatly, shirts across the top bar and pants and jackets along the bottom bar. But I don’t stare too long; closets and bathrooms are personal space.
I look back to the bed once again and wonder: Will that be me? Us? Someday, one day soon? I remember from the dream that I was much larger than I am now, nearing the end of my pregnancy. But Mikah in the dream was just as sweet then as he is today. Tender in a very un-masculine way.
Mikah takes me through the rest of the house, leading the way back across the main room into a guest bedroom on the other side of the house and then his office.
As we come out of the office back into the main room, he comes to a sudden stop. "Hello, Red."
I peek around the doorjamb. Red is standing near the breakfast bar.
"Hello, sir. Vivienne," he says and nods in my direction.
"Hello," I say quietly.
He smiles and turns back toward Mikah. "Chrys is here. Shall I have Andrew bring him up?"
Mikah looks quickly to me then back to Red. I can feel my brow furrow.
"Give me about five minutes, then go ahead and bring him up," Mikah says to Red, but he is still looking at
me.
"Yes, sir," Red says and walks toward the entryway.
"Who's Chrys?" I ask as soon as Red is out of sight.
Mikah takes a couple of steps into the sitting area in front of his office.
"Chrys is my lawyer. The one I'd like you to talk to about..."
"Do I have to?" I ask.
"No, you don't. But Stevens will be here around one. I’d like you to have some time to discuss things with Chrys before Stevens arrives. I’d like Chrys to be present while Stevens is here.”
"I don't understand why all this is necessary." I lean into the jamb of the office door and take a long, deep breath.
"I'm not entirely sure it's necessary either. You've done nothing wrong, but I...I'd like Chrys to be here as a buffer from Stevens. He'll know if the questions are crossing the line or making you uncomfortable. And..." He pauses. "And he can help keep me in line from doing or saying something I shouldn't to Stevens." He runs a hand through his hair.
"I don't mind talking to Chrys as much as I mind talking to Stevens. The only thing that I have to tell him, he already knows." My voice is soft but I’m suddenly very nervous. "Or he should know. He would have access to my medical file as far as my injuries were concerned. If he suspects anyone other than that asshole, then he's barking up the wrong tree."
Mikah nods. "I know, sweetheart. I don't know what it is that he's after, what information he thinks you can provide that he doesn't already have. But unless there is some legal way out of you talking to him, I can't hold Stevens off forever, as much as I'd like to." I can see the concern in his eyes.
"I'll talk to both of them if it means that once it's done, it's done, and I don't have to do it again."
I have a gut feeling that it's a waste of time to talk to either one of them. If that cave dream is any indication, I have a feeling that whoever that dark voice belongs to is having his own way with Riley. I shudder.
After a few heartbeats of silence, I hear a door close and shoes clicking across the hardwood floor. I lean back, shrinking into his office as a rather tall, well-dressed man emerges from the hallway.
FIFTEEN
For being a lawyer, Chrys is surprisingly gentle when it comes to asking me questions. It’s hard to talk about again, and I can tell Mikah is uncomfortable with my answers, but they’re the same ones I gave him in the hospital on Saturday night. I'd hoped that Mikah could act as a buffer and handle most of the answers, but Chrys is adamant that the answers come from me and me alone.
When I’m finished telling Chrys everything I remember, I say, "I don't want to talk to Stevens."
"I don't see any reason for you to talk to him," Chrys replies matter-of-factly. "The evidence of what happened to you is in your medical file. You can identify Riley in a lineup if necessary."
I shudder at the idea of having to look at him again.
Chrys continues, "With the previous case, Riley presents with a history of violence toward you, the police shouldn't need anything more. I will try talking to Stevens first, see what it is that he's after, and then we can go from there." He doesn't look at Mikah when he talks, which is reassuring.
Chrys is rather handsome, with dirty blond hair that falls to just below his ears. Definitely doesn't seem like the lawyer type. Maybe that's why I can talk to him without issue. I've never had to deal with a lawyer before, and if I ever have to deal with one again, someone like Chrys would be great. He's not abrasive in any way, and I like that.
"I have a feeling he just wants to see her, talk to her, maybe even apologize to her," Mikah says, and I look at him, puzzled. "He's pretty messed up over what happened to you, and while I'd like to wring his neck for letting it happen, in the end he and his department were hurt far more than you were."
I nod slowly, taking in his words. I remember him telling me about the cop who was parked outside of my apartment and how he was killed. Guilt knots my stomach. If Stevens hadn't felt it necessary to protect me from Riley, his cop would still be alive. In a way, it’s my fault that the officer died.
"I'll talk to Stevens," I blurt out. "Despite the fact that what happened to me happened, he deserves a chance to say his piece."
Mikah looks at me, awe etched on his features.
"Okay, would you like me to talk to him first?" Chrys pulls my attention away from Mikah.
I nod. "Sounds good to me."
I hear the door open and the squeak of tennis shoes across the floor. "Lunch is ready downstairs," Celeste says.
"Chrys, would you like to join us?" Mikah asks him.
"No, I'm going to make some notes. I'll take a sandwich, though, if you don't mind."
Mikah turns to Celeste. "Would you mind?"
"No, not at all," she replies and walks into the kitchen.
"Chrys, why don't you call me when Stevens is ready. I’ll tell Red to bring him up here and you can chat with him first. We will come back up when it's time." Mikah stands and offers me his hand. I take it and stand too.
"Sounds good," Chrys replies, and Mikah and I head for the door.
SIXTEEN
We’ve barely finished our lunch of salad and chicken soup - I'm thankful this soup is so good, otherwise I might tire of it - when Mikah's phone rings.
"Blake," he answers. I see his face fall slightly.
We haven't talked too much over our meal. I get the impression that Mikah is waiting for me to talk. Though about what, I’m not sure. Or maybe he is just trying to make sure that I really am okay after what’s happened to me.
"Alright, Chrys, we'll be up in a moment," I hear him say, then he shifts the phone and pushes a button.
"Chrys says that Stevens is satisfied with what he's told him regarding what happened," Mikah says rather stoically, as if he's thinking about something.
"I'm still mad at him," I say quietly. I look up at him and he smiles.
"That makes two of us.” Mikah wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me close. He lightly kisses the top of my head. "It will be okay." He squeezes my shoulders. "How are you feeling?" he asks.
"Okay. Just tired."
"Alright, we'll make this quick and you can come down here and take a nap."
"Will you join me?"
He smiles a little wider. "Maybe." He grins.
I smile back and we head for the door and back upstairs.
As we walk into the apartment, I hear Chrys talking but I can’t really make out what he's saying. We come around the corner to find Stevens, Chrys and another cop - one of the ones from Thursday night, whose name I can't remember - sitting at the dining room table.
Stevens stands and turns to face us. Mikah still has his arm around me protectively, but Stevens smiles when he sees me.
"Hi, Vivienne," Stevens says, then he points in the direction of the other cop, who's now standing as well. "This is Officer Ruiz."
"Hi," I quietly, not sure why I'm so shy.
Mikah leads me a little closer to the table and Stevens comes over. He's dressed in full uniform, though I notice that both his and Ruiz's gun holsters are empty. Red must have made them leave them downstairs.
"How are you feeling?" Stevens asks. There is a lot of emotion playing on his features.
"I'm okay, just very tired."
"I'm sorry, Vivienne. Very sorry," Stevens says. His voice breaks and I can see raw emotion in his eyes. The look makes my heart lurch.
"Stop. I'm alive, it's alright," I say, and as I do, I realize that it really is okay. I have no reason to be mad at Stevens or anyone else for what happened to me, except Riley. "Riley is a very driven individual. He will let nothing stand in the way to getting what he wants," I say, and Stevens relaxes a little bit. I step out of Mikah's arm and gently hug Stevens. I feel all eyes on me as I do this, but I understand the pain he is going through. If it helps him heal from what happened to me, I'll do it again and again.
"You're too kind to me, Vivienne." He wraps his arms gently around me and squeezes just a bit. I can tell he's being cautious.
Mikah is quick to wrap his arm around me, and exhaustion washes over me.
"No, I wanted to ask you a few questions, but Chrys has answered most of them for you."
Mikah leads me to the table and pulls out a chair for me.
"Thank you," I say as I take a seat.
Stevens, Chrys and Mikah all sit. Ruiz stays standing about ten feet away.
"I just wanted to ask you a couple of follow-up questions. I'll make this quick, promise," Stevens says. "First, Mr. Crowley, downstairs from your apartment. Do you know whether he would have let Riley into the building?"
The mention of Mr. Crowley brings a knot to my stomach. "I don't think so. He knew his tenants pretty well. Especially if Riley said my name, he wouldn't have let him in."
"That's something we've been trying to figure out, how he got into the building."
"Again, Riley's determination got him into that building. I vaguely remember Mr. Crowley's door being open when I got home. I didn't think much of it because he's done it in the past when he's run off to a tenant’s apartment," I say, my voice still quiet and weak. But Stevens is listening intently.
"Detective, do you know why his door was open?" Mikah asks.
Stevens face scrunches up a bit. "Mr. Crowley was..." He pauses and looks at me. I nod slightly for him to continue. "He was killed. From what we can tell, it happened before he got to you."
I feel my eyes fill with tears. Mr. Crowley was a really nice man. He didn't deserve this.
"How do you know that?" Mikah asks.
Stevens shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "We, uh..." He looks to Officer Ruiz then back down at the table. "Forensics came back on Vivienne's apartment. We found a t-shirt that wasn't Vivienne's. It was white, and it had several spatters of blood on it. We found three types of blood." I flinch. "Vivienne's, Mr. Crowley's, and what we can only assume is Riley's, as it doesn't match any DNA in our system, but it matches DNA on a couple of hair fibers we found in Mr. Crowley's apartment as well as-" He pauses again, looking at me. "-on Rebecca."
Give Me Desire (Reason Series) Page 5
