“I know you better than that. It does surprise me, but I understand the importance of family.” Tony’s gaze swung briefly to the picture of his children. “I perhaps learned that lesson too late.”
He paused. “So I understand why you want to go. And I see that it could benefit you professionally too. But I ultimately cannot control how this will affect your advancement prospects here. If you’re still determined to go after hearing that, then I support you. You’ll still have to do your part, though. I expect consistent updates on your progress with the Lerner proposal, and for you to be available when someone here needs you.”
“Of course.” A surge of something—an unfamiliar feeling—replaced the pain in her abdomen. Could it be hope?
“Okay, then. Let’s schedule a meeting later this week and work out the details.”
Crystal stood. “Thank you so much, Tony. You won’t be sorry.”
“I just hope you won’t be sorry.”
The thought sobered her momentary elation. She nodded and left his office, pulling her phone from her pocket as she headed down the hallway. Crystal pulled up Megan’s number and sent a quick text:
My boss approved my time off. When do we leave?
Chapter 8
Adventure wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
Megan sat in a plastic airport chair, gripping her cell phone tightly in one hand, her purse in the other. O’Hare’s international terminal was crowded and loud. TVs chattered, people blabbered into their phones, and coffee grinders whirred inside the Starbucks behind her. Across the way, a huge window showcased a sunny day.
The first flight had gone well enough. It was short—Rochester to Chicago—but this flight to Peru would take nearly fourteen hours. That wouldn’t be so bad, since Crystal was on this flight too.
Or she was supposed to be.
Megan checked the time on her phone again. Ten minutes till boarding and no message from Crystal despite the ten texts Megan had sent her. She’d checked the monitors ten minutes ago, and Crystal’s flight showed as delayed with no approximate time of arrival. Would she make it here in time?
“Boarding for Flight 1990 to Cusco will begin in five minutes.”
A general shuffling in the seats around her made Megan hop up and grab her things. She texted her sister once more, stuffed her phone back in her purse, wiped the sweat from her hands onto the legs of her jeans, and breathed deep. It would all be okay. Crystal knew the plans, and she’d help make sure this trip was a success.
The gate attendant announced boarding and called out zone numbers. When Megan’s zone was called, she rolled her suitcase down the ramp toward the plane. Finally, she found her seat, stowed her carry-on, and sat down.
“Excuse me.”
Megan looked up to find a short girl with spiked hair and a nose ring, who pointed to the window seat. “Oh. Sorry.” She stood and the girl nudged her way past, sinking into her seat and shoving her backpack underneath the seat in front of her.
“I’m Megan.” She stuck out her hand, but the girl just raised a pierced eyebrow and stuck buds in her ears.
Guess not everyone wanted to chat. The lady on the flight from Rochester was extremely talkative. Megan could have kissed her—she’d taken her mind off the fact that Megan was entrusting herself to a big hunk of metal in the sky.
The captain chimed in with a greeting over the intercom, letting everyone know this would be a full flight and they should get comfortable with their neighbors. The girl next to Megan curled up against the window with a jacket as a pillow and closed her eyes.
Where was Crystal? Megan grabbed a book from her purse and settled in. A man caught her eye. He lumbered down the aisle, and something about him made Megan squirm. He looked about her age, maybe a little older, with black hair that had been greased back—or maybe he just hadn’t washed it in a few days. His beard was patchy and his lips looked dry, as if sunburned and rubbed raw.
The poor soul who had to sit next to him . . .
And then he plopped into Crystal’s seat. The smell of cigarette smoke assailed her.
“Excuse me. I think you might have the wrong seat.”
He studied her, one of his eyes lazy. His lip curled into a slight sneer. “Nope. Twenty-three C. That’s what’s on my ticket.”
She forced a smile, ignoring how the smoke seemed to permeate every pore in her body. Her head pounded. “This is my sister’s seat, so I’m thinking one of us has it wrong.”
The guy held up his ticket. Sure enough, it said twenty-three C. “I was on standby and just got placed here. Sorry, sweetheart. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Name’s Frank.”
“Oh. I’m Megan. I wonder what happened to my sister’s flight.” She said the last part under her breath as she reached down to rummage in her purse for her phone, which she finally found.
A voice mail that hadn’t been there before popped up. It was from Crystal. “Megan, hi. There was a medical emergency on my first flight, so we had to make an unplanned landing in Cleveland. We sat on the tarmac forever. I tried to text you, but my phone was dead and there was no way to charge it until I got inside the airport. So frustrating. Looks like I won’t make it to our flight. I’ll catch the first flight I can, but I might not get there until the morning after you arrive.”
No problem. Megan could do this. She didn’t need Crystal with her. She was thirty-two years old, after all.
Oh, who was she kidding? She’d never done anything like this before. Her mind flashed back to earlier today, when she’d stood near security and said good-bye to her parents. Her mom, tears in her eyes, had hugged Megan tight as if she’d never see her again. Like always, she’d smelled of vanilla and buried her face in Megan’s hair as she kissed the top of her head. “There’s no shame in coming home if you need to.”
She’d tucked that assurance away, just in case. But for now, she’d stay put—even if it meant riding fourteen hours next to Frank. Megan cracked open the first chapter of her book.
Several times Frank tried to talk to her. He asked her all sorts of personal questions. Once she even found him gazing at her shirt. Megan saw her neckline had dipped, revealing the top of her scar. She made quick work of shifting her shirt upward. If only the girl in twenty-three A would wake up and talk to her. Megan fidgeted in her seat, then tried to close her eyes. But every time she did, she got the eerie sense that Frank was watching her. Eventually she drifted off to sleep and dreamed of oceans and mountains and the Great Wall of China.
And Caleb. Now, why was he on her mind? Probably simply because they’d stayed up on Facebook chatting last night when she should have been sleeping.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re beginning our final descent into Cusco.” The lead flight attendant’s voice flickered through the plane. Megan opened her eyes and felt a crick in her neck. “Please ensure your seat backs and tray tables are in the upright and locked position.”
“You’re very pretty when you sleep.”
Megan started at the voice beside her. She turned and took in Frank’s curled grin. A shudder raced up her spine.
“I know you were expecting your sister, but since she’s not here to meet you, I thought maybe you’d want to grab a drink. It’s only five.” The smell of beer stained his breath.
The sooner she could get off this plane and safely to her hotel, the better. “Thanks for the offer, but I plan to head straight for the hotel when we land.” Megan searched for her book. It wasn’t on her lap. She peered onto the floor.
“Looking for this?” Frank held it up.
What in the world?
“Thanks.” The pleasantry just flew out of her mouth. If Crystal had been in her place, she probably would have ripped the guy a new one for interfering in her private space. But Megan wasn’t that bold.
“I had to get a glimpse for myself at what captivated you so much.” Frank pulled out her bookmark: the itinerary Crystal’s travel agent had sent her. “And what a coincidence. We’re staying at the s
ame hotel.”
“Wow.” She snatched the book from his hand and pretended to read. She felt the man’s eyes on her and flipped the pages every minute or so, hoping his attention would shift elsewhere. Then a thought came. What if he’d rustled through the rest of her stuff? Megan snatched up the bag at her feet and checked. Everything seemed accounted for. Maybe she was just being paranoid.
Eventually they landed and the girl next to Megan woke up. She uncurled from her position—how had she stayed so still for fourteen hours?—and seemed to notice Frank for the first time. She flashed Megan a look of sympathy. Oh sure, now she was sympathetic. Megan stayed glued to her chair until the time came for their row to deplane.
Frank stepped aside and gestured forward. “After you, Megan.”
Oh, why had she told him her name? Moving her legs as fast as she could, she flew off the plane, up the ramp, and down the halls of the airport toward customs. She got her passport stamped and headed to baggage claim.
Frank hovered as they waited for the bags to slide onto the carousel, and she couldn’t shake the feeling he was still watching her.
Once she got her bag, Megan headed to the taxi line. Overhead, the sky was full of clouds that looked as if they might burst at any moment. People hustled everywhere, and the smell of spices clung to the air. Humidity clung to Megan’s skin, causing her to sweat even as she stood still.
Finally, a taxi pulled up and she climbed inside.
“Where are you going?” The taxi driver spoke, his eyes reflected in the rearview mirror.
“The Belmond Hotel Monasterio, please.”
She settled into her seat and was startled when the other car door opened and Frank got in next to her.
“Since we’re going to the same hotel, I thought you wouldn’t mind sharing a taxi.”
Yes, she did mind. “Actually—”
Before she could do anything, the taxi driver eased out of the parking spot. Frank’s foul breath seemed to hover all around her. “Is this your first time in Cusco?” He leaned back and threw his arm along the back of the seat, his hand lightly caressing her shoulders.
Oh Lord, help. She was going to be taken and enslaved, just like the girl in that Liam Neeson movie. Or worse.
She should call 911 or—wait, how would she call for help in a foreign country? But as she was mulling this over, they pulled up to the hotel. Frank winked at her, threw some money at the cabbie, and slipped out the door, disappearing into the crowd with his small suitcase in tow.
Megan opened her door and peeked out. She didn’t see him anywhere. As the cabbie unloaded her suitcases, her gaze darted every which way, but no Frank. Maybe she really had overreacted. She paid the rest of the taxi fare and headed inside the hotel.
The high ceilings and crisp air made it easier to breathe. Megan wheeled her suitcases up to the counter and smiled at the young female attendant, who assigned her a room and wished her a happy stay.
She’d done it. Made it to her hotel with only one near disaster under her belt. But she’d overcome. All on her own.
She stepped onto the empty elevator and pushed the button for floor five. At the last moment, someone slipped on with her. The smell of smoke made her head pop up. Frank.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice squeaked. She was frozen to the ground.
He towered over her. She didn’t remember him being that tall on the plane. “I told you.” Frank drew closer and whispered in her ear, “We’re staying in the same hotel,”
“Look, I don’t want any trouble.” She’d watched plenty of crime TV shows in her life and should have been paying more attention to her surroundings.
“There won’t be any trouble.”
“Good.”
The elevator door dinged, and she took off down the hallway, Frank hot on her heels. What did she do now? No way was she going to open the door to her room or even show him which room she was in. She stopped at a random room and fumbled in her purse. “Looks like I must have dropped my key card somewhere along the way. I’ll have to go back. It was great to see you again.”
She turned to leave, and he caught her arm. She tried to tug away, but he kept hold and squeezed. Tight.
“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He leaned in to kiss her and she screamed.
A woman stuck her head outside a room across the hallway. “Hey . . .”
Frank looked the lady’s way, and Megan darted down the hall. She found her room, slipped the key in the door, and got inside, slamming the door shut. Megan flipped the inside lock and flew toward the phone. She dialed the front desk, her hands shaking, breath heaving.
“Front desk. How may I help you?” The thick Peruvian accent filled the line.
“There’s a man in the hallway on floor five . . . He tried to . . . Please have security come and remove him.”
“Ma’am, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
“No. I mean, yes, I’m okay. No, he didn’t hurt me.” Tears leaked from Megan’s eyes. What would she have done if that person hadn’t distracted Frank? How could she have let him follow her all the way here? She’d been stupid. She should have known better.
Crystal would have known better.
Maybe Megan should turn around and head home before something else like this happened. She slammed the phone down in its cradle, hot tears welling in her eyes. Then she crawled into the nearest bed, fully clothed, and ducked under the covers.
Chapter 9
When they were growing up, Mom liked to say that anything worth doing was hard.
If that was true, then this whole trip—including an unexpected landing in Cleveland, scrambling to find a way to Cusco, finally getting on a flight only to be seated between a poor mom with a screaming baby and a large man who sweated profusely, and attempting to brainstorm ideas for the Lerner project but coming up empty—was most definitely worth it.
Crystal hoped with everything she had that it was true.
She tried to control the yawn overtaking her as she wheeled her suitcase down the hotel hall toward the room where Megan had checked in last night. Crystal had arrived in Cusco around seven this morning and hurried to the hotel. The early smells of continental breakfast and coffee had nearly made her delirious in the lobby, and she longed to curl up and take a long nap.
But before she could eat or rest, she had to see Megan.
Just put one foot in front of the other. She passed a bedroom where a housekeeper’s cart propped open the door. Inside, the vroom of a vacuum whirred. Crystal checked the room number. Still a few rooms to go.
What would Megan say? Would she get all misty-eyed like she always did—a sight that made Crystal inexplicably uncomfortable? Would she be upset that Crystal had missed their flight? Would she pull Crystal into a tight hug and hold on for dear life, afraid to let go?
Crystal gripped the hotel key card in her hand and it bit into her palm. This time she’d be different. She’d watch over Megan and help her accomplish her task. It didn’t mean everything would be totally fine between them again. But maybe it’d be at least a little better.
Room 506. Crystal stopped and slid the card through the slot. When the button flashed green, Crystal took a deep breath and pushed open the door. But it only opened a few inches, clanging against the safety lock. She closed the door and knocked. After a minute of waiting, Crystal tried opening the door again. The lights were on inside, so Megan must be awake. Maybe she was in the shower. Crystal leaned her ear closer but couldn’t tell if the water was running or not.
“Meg?” She knocked again. Nothing. Tried to open the door again. Clang, clang.
Crystal leaned her head against the doorframe and the wood cooled her. Oh, she was so tired . . . Wait, was that whimpering? Crystal straightened and focused. Protectiveness surged and rationality left her as she banged on the door till her fist hurt. “Meg, are you okay? Let me in.”
Next door, a disgruntled man with a thick pair of glasses and a white hotel robe around his husky frame flung op
en his door. “What in the devil do you think you’re doing? It’s too early for all this racket.”
“My sister may be hurt. I’m trying to get inside.” Should she run back downstairs to get hotel security? But there might not be time for that if Megan was having a medical emergency. She rummaged through her purse as quickly as she could. Where was her phone? “Can I use your phone to call for help?”
The man’s unibrow dipped on his puckered forehead. “I—”
At that moment, Megan’s door closed from the inside. Someone slid the heavy safety lock off the door. Crystal reached for the door handle just as the solid door cracked open to reveal a wide-eyed Megan. “Crystal?” Her voice shook with fear, and she stared at Crystal as if not quite believing it was her.
“Megan.” Crystal stepped forward and grabbed her sister, pulling her into her arms. For a moment, the years fell away and they were seven again. Megan had fallen on the playground because Emma Vasquez—the schoolyard bully—had pushed her. Crystal had threatened to de-pants Emma in front of the whole class if she messed with her sister again. Then she’d hugged Megan and helped her limp to the nurse’s office where they’d shared a Popsicle.
But the woman in Crystal’s arms was no longer a child. And Crystal had lost the right to see herself as any sort of protector. She pulled away. “Are you all right? I was worried when you didn’t answer.”
Megan’s short hair was smashed on one side and her makeup was clearly a day old, her clothes rumpled. Her sister swiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I heard you at the door . . . and I thought he was back.”
“He who?” Crystal’s glance flew to the next-door neighbor, who huffed and slammed his door. Crystal dragged her suitcase through the doorway into their room, shutting the door behind her. “Did that guy next door say something to scare you?”
“No, not him.” Megan headed back toward one of the double beds, sat with her back against the headboard, and pulled her hands up to her knees. Her body was visibly relaxing. Had she had a panic attack of some sort?
“Then who?”
The Heart Between Us Page 8
