by Leigh James
By the time we’d warmed up and gotten to Warrior One, sweat poured off me.
I glanced at Fiona. Not only was she sweating, tears were coursing down her face.
“Are you all right?” I whispered.
“Yes.” She quickly wiped her eyes.
Throughout the rest of the class, tears streamed down her face. I wasn’t the only one to notice—the instructor came over, a kind, insanely fit woman in her fifties who looked like she could bench press me. The teacher whispered, “Are you okay?”
Fiona nodded. “I just lost my husband.”
“The tears are a release—as you release the physical tension, you release the emotional tension.” The instructor patted Fiona on the shoulder. “Good work.”
I thought I heard Ellis snort from his post on the wall.
I ignored him and prayed Fiona did, too.
After class ended, I cleaned my mat and checked on Fiona.
“That was intense. I still need a drink.” She looked down at herself. Her shirt was drenched and sticking to her skin. “I guess I need to shower?”
“There’s a dive bar down the street,” I offered. “If we put our sweatshirts on and sit far away from everyone else, maybe no one can smell us.”
Fiona smiled. It was the first smile I’d seen from her in a long time. “Then let’s go, but quick. I need to get home to Katie and Quinn—I was at the office before this. It’s the longest I’ve been gone.”
“Of course.”
Ellis followed us out, and I noticed there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “What did you think of the class?”
He rolled his eyes, which told me plenty.
Ellis and Brian didn’t sit with us at the table we selected in the dark bar—they stood near the door, alert and watching the few patrons’ every move.
“How are the girls doing?” I asked.
Fiona considered her vodka and soda. “They love having my mom at the house. They asked her to move in with us.”
“Aw, that’s sweet.”
“Except that she said yes, and I haven’t lived with my mom since I was eighteen.” Fiona poked the straw into her glass, swirling the ice around. “It’ll be nice, I guess. To have someone home. Jim usually got out of work before me…”
I reached over and squeezed her hand. “How’re you holding up?”
She shook her head. “I’m crying at yoga. I cried at my board meeting. I cry in the shower.”
“It’s normal, if that makes you feel any better.” From my experience, I knew it wouldn’t.
“My other issue is that Li Na is pressing me to sell my company. And after what she did, I’m too afraid to say no. If anything ever happened to my girls…” She shuddered. “I don’t want to sell her this technology because it has so much promise. It can help so many people. But I can’t help being selfish—after what happened to Jim, I’m too afraid. I don’t want to say no to her.”
I leaned forward. “Then don’t.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ve been thinking about it. I have some insight into what Li Na wants, and I’ve started coming up with a plan.”
Fiona took a large gulp of her drink. “You have?”
I tried not to take offense at her tone. “I know my sister’s the brilliant one, but I have my own ideas—”
“That’s not what I meant. I’ve worked with you. I know that you’re brilliant in your own right. But I also know that you have a big heart, and I’ve never seen you be unkind, even to people who might deserve it.”
“Li Na exists on a whole new level of deserving. I’m more than ready to be unkind. So here’s what I’m thinking…”
* * *
WES
I’d never been so glad to see a steak in my life. I popped another bite of filet into my mouth and moaned. “This is delicious.”
Gabe laughed. “I have to sneak out here at least once a week—don’t tell Lauren. I’m pretty sure the soy’s going to kill me.”
I clinked my glass against his. “Amen. If I never see another piece of bean curd…”
“You’re dating the tofu queen,” he reminded me. “Good luck.”
Gabe had kept his word about organizing a men-only steakhouse dinner. Ash, Gabe, and I had met Levi after we left Paragon. The trendy restaurant was packed on a Friday night. We were seated in a large booth, finishing our second round of drinks.
“I’m keeping a list of things to tell Lauren.” Levi eyed Gabe over his bourbon. “I’m telling her about you cheating on her with steak. She’s too good for you, and she should know it.”
“Don’t start.” Gabe glowered at his older brother. “Or I’ll tell Bethany how much you’ve been checking in with her bodyguard.”
“What’s this?” Ash leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “He’s stalking Lauren’s hot lawyer again?”
Gabe grinned. “He calls her bodyguard twice a day. I heard him ask if Bethany had mentioned him.”
Ash and Gabe howled with laughter as Levi fumed.
Being with the brothers reminded me of Ellis. I’d asked him to join us, but he refused to take time off. I shot him a quick text as Levi argued with Gabe and Ash.
How’s it going with Fiona?
No threats, no suspicious people.
I meant, how’s she doing?
She cries a lot.
My brother didn’t do emotions. He never cried, even when our parents died.
Are you…being nice to her?
Do you really think I’m that much of a dick?
No, I typed quickly. Sort of, I thought.
“Not to interrupt, but are you going to make it official with my future sister-in-law?” Gabe asked.
I coughed, almost choking on the steak. “There’s an awful lot of gossip happening at this table. I’m feeling emasculated—can’t we talk about the game?”
“We could.” Gabe cut another piece of steak. “Or we could talk about work, instead…”
Everyone booed. We were still mulling Hannah’s somewhat out-there idea about trapping Li Na.
“How about another round instead?” Gabe suggested.
This time, we met him with cheers.
* * *
I wasn’t drunk, but I wasn’t exactly sober when I got into bed later. Hannah slept soundly, rolled over on her side. She didn’t move when I climbed in next to her.
I leaned closer, careful not to wake her as I inhaled the heady mix of her scent—some sort of hippie-ish essential oil and her own smell, clean and healthy. She smelled like sunlight.
I thought about what she’d told the shrink. About what that guard had done to her.
I cringed, wishing I’d been able to be there for her, to help. I also wished that I’d been the one to kill the bastard. That was a terrible wish, I knew, but he’d hurt her…terrorized her, preying on her when she was at her most vulnerable.
Sonofabitch.
But he was gone, and I had to let it go. Now I needed to support Hannah as she led the charge against Li Na. I’d never seen her pissed like this before. In addition to the fact that it was sort of hot, I loved watching her mind work.
That wasn’t all that I loved.
No matter what happened, I had to keep her safe. Because if Li Na came after us again?
This time, I’d be ready.
Chapter 16
Fiona
I watched Katie and Quinn as they slept. Their faces were relaxed, a far cry from how they’d looked in the terrible days since their dad died. My poor girls. I took another step into the semidarkness of their room, making sure that each of their chests was rising and falling.
When they were babies, Jim and I took turns checking on them. We were both paranoid—a fact I relied on and relished. We used to joke that the kids never slept through the night because we were always poking and prodding them, making sure they were breathing okay.
I clutched my chest as I watched the girls sleep peacefully now. Oh, Jim…
I heard a noise behind me and whirled.
“It’s just me,” Ellis said.
It was the most he’d said since he’d been assigned to protect me.
“I was just checking on them.” I kept my voice low.
“I get it.”
I stepped out of the girls’ room and headed to the kitchen, Ellis close on my heels. At first, I’d been unnerved by his constant, silent presence. But I’d gotten used to him. It felt safer having his six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-something pounds of pure muscle nearby.
I went to the fridge and stared inside, wondering if he’d judge me for having a glass of wine. I poured one anyway. “Would you like a drink?” I asked.
“No, thank you.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
I watched as his eyes flicked methodically around the room, then out the window to the driveway. There were three other armed guards outside, but I’d noticed Ellis still periodically did a perimeter scan.
My thoughts wandered over the day, pausing for a moment on the embarrassment of crying during yoga. Jesus. I’m such a mess. I allowed myself a shudder, then moved on. Missing my husband wasn’t a weakness—it was human to mourn him, and I refused to punish myself for it. I’d been suffering enough.
I thought back on the conversation I’d had with Hannah after class. What she’d proposed had surprised me, and my immediate gut reaction was a hard no. License my technology to the woman who’d killed my husband? And then reverse-engineer a hack to ruin it? Hannah was asking me to play with fire, a fire that could consume the rest of what remained of my family.
I couldn’t take that risk. But was it riskier to do nothing and leave my family vulnerable?
“I’m sorry,” Ellis said, interrupting my train of thought, “but what are you thinking about?”
“What?” I startled, having forgotten he was standing there. He’d never asked me a question before.
“The look on your face… Can I help?”
I sighed. I was leaking so much that even my monosyllabic bodyguard had noticed. “I’m just trying to figure something out, and I don’t know what the answer is. Normally, that’s not a problem for me.” Making good decisions had always been easy for me, a point of pride. But for the moment, I felt lost.
“If you need to talk about it, you can. I might not be able to help, but I can at least listen.”
“Thank you.” I swirled my wine around, wondering if he’d find me even more ridiculous if I spoke further.
I took another sip of Fumé blanc for courage. “Hannah had an idea about how to deal with Li Na Zhao. She suggested that I let Protocol license the antibody therapy to her, then compromise the technology, so it doesn’t perform. So it malfunctions.” It seemed dangerous to say it out loud.
Ellis nodded, waiting for me to continue.
“I think it’s a good idea—maybe the only shot I have for a preemptive strike. I don’t know if I want to do it, but only because I’m afraid Li Na will come after us. That she’ll…” I couldn’t say it aloud. I thought of Katie and Quinn sleeping safely in their room, and I felt sick.
“I can’t tell you what to do with your business, but I’ll protect you and the girls. No matter what. I won’t let anyone hurt you. You don’t have to include your fear as a factor.”
I looked at his massive form, touched. “I know you’re very good at your job, but can you actually promise that?”
“It’s the only thing I can promise.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t know if his assurance was enough, but it was something.
Ellis nodded again, and I sensed the conversation was over.
“Well, good night.” I paused at the door. “Do you sleep?”
He’d been with me for over a week, and he’d barely taken time off. I’d been so consumed with grief and anxiety, I hadn’t even wondered if he was taking care of himself.
“Less than I talk.”
I might’ve imagined it, but I thought he smiled. At least a little.
* * *
HANNAH
I scowled at Dr. Karen, the therapist, as I sat on the couch. She arranged a long box at eye level in front of me. It had a row of small lightbulbs running across it horizontally.
“What is that thing?”
She tucked a corkscrew curl behind her ear and plugged the box in. “It’s a light box. I’m going to use it to help alleviate your negative thoughts.”
I crossed my legs and bounced my knee nervously. “I don’t think I have any negative thoughts.”
Karen appeared to ignore me as she gathered her file and sat in a nearby chair. Then she asked, “So what was that panic attack all about?”
I sighed. “I was upset about Jim’s murder. Once you add that event on top of all the other crazy that’s been going on in my life, it’s clear why I had anxiety. But I’m fine. It hasn’t happened again.”
“Have you experienced any other symptoms?” she asked.
“No. I mean, I’m a little anxious in general, but that seems normal to me.”
“Have you and Wesley had sex yet?”
I grimaced. “No.”
“Does it make you anxious to think about it?”
I picked at some invisible lint on my blouse. “Maybe a little. I just want to get it over with, but then I feel guilty for feeling that way.”
Karen pointed her finger at me. “That feeling—that guilt—is what we’re going to eradicate with EMDR. That guilt is a negative thought, a consequence of the trauma you experienced. If you relax and try this for me, I promise you won’t be disappointed. And remember, you’re doing this for you and for Wesley.”
“That’s manipulative—you know I’d do anything for Wes.”
She smiled brightly. “I know, but I’m a therapist. I have to work with the skills I’ve got! So, are you ready?”
I swallowed over a sudden lump in my throat.
Karen reached over and grabbed my hand. “It’s not that difficult, I swear. It’s better than living this way.”
“Okay.”
“EMDR can be done several ways. The one I have experience with is using this box,” she tapped the light box, “and it’s proven very effective.”
I scowled at the box, unconvinced.
Karen sat back against her chair. “I want you to go back to that image you shared with me—when you woke up and the guard was standing over you, masturbating.”
I shivered.
“How did that make you feel?”
“I felt vulnerable…helpless. I felt afraid, which really pissed me off.”
“And what thoughts were you having the night you had the panic attack?”
“I was thinking about my friend’s husband who was killed, how sad my friend and her daughters were. And then I kept thinking about Wes, when he got shot and when he was hooked up to all those machines at the hospital.” I shivered. “And my parents, I thought about when I saw my mom after she died…”
“And how did those thoughts make you feel?”
“Panicked, obviously.” I laughed, but it sounded brittle, like I might break. “Hopeless. Helpless. Angry.”
“Good job.” Karen motioned toward the box. “Now take a deep breath and get ready. I want you to watch the lights. Bring that memory back up—the guard standing over you. How did that make you feel?”
I watched the tiny lights blink across the box as I recounted the memory. “I felt powerless—disgusted with myself because I felt so weak.”
The light sequence finished, and I blinked.
“Excellent,” Karen said.
I wrinkled my nose. She had a weird concept of “excellent.”
She leaned forward. “Take a deep breath. Let’s try this again…”
* * *
“Do you think it worked?” Lauren asked. I’d brought lunch to Paragon, but she was only pushing her grilled salmon around inside its reusable container.
“I don’t know.” I still hadn’t told Lauren the full extent of what had happened with the guard who’d assaulted me—I didn’t w
ant to burden her with any more guilt. But I’d explained that the therapist was treating me with EMDR for my anxiety.
“How does the light impact you, exactly?” Lauren’s scientific brain craved details.
I chewed my quinoa thoughtfully, trying to remember exactly what Karen had said. “At first she had me think of something that was bothering me—a negative thought that was causing me anxiety—and then she asked me how the thought made me feel.”
“I need an example,” Lauren said. “I can’t picture this.”
“My negative thought was that when the guards had me, I felt helpless. I felt powerless, and that’s seriously stressful for me. So the other night, when I had a panic attack and my body went out of control, I felt powerless all over again, and it was this self-fulfilling episode of…crap, for lack of a better word. Mental crap that incapacitated me.”
Lauren’s shoulders slumped.
“I’m not telling you this if you’re going to get upset.”
She frowned. “Fine. Tell me how the therapy works.”
“The doctor had me say my negative thought out loud, and she ran the light box at the same time. The idea behind is that you activate the old memory to short-term memory at the same time your eyes track the light. Supposedly the memory becomes blurred, and the bad memory loses some of its power.” I wrinkled my nose, unsure if I’d explained it right. “Does that make sense?”
“Absolutely.” Lauren’s eyes lit up—science excited her. “The treatment disrupts the negative thought process. The sequencing allows the brain to make new connections while the negative thought is present. It’s pretty brilliant in its simplicity.” Satisfied, she finally took a bite of her lunch.
I laughed.
“What?”
“I’m glad it makes sense to you. I thought my doctor was crazy when she sat me in front of a lightbox, but if you think there’s a valid scientific reason for it, that’s good enough for me.”
“Do you feel better?”
“I don’t know. I think so? My anxiety has been…” Situational. I refused to say it out loud. Wesley and I still hadn’t had sex, and that was starting to cause me anxiety. “Minimal.”
