Skin Game

CHAPTER 30

It had been a week since they left Las Vegas.

And she’d crashed hard once she got them to safety. Mia told her they’d spent a whole day hiding in a hotel off the strip, but she couldn’t remember it. Since then, Mia had been moody and uncommunicative, totally unlike herself. Focusing on her friend’s problems distracted Kyra from thinking about her own, but she didn’t want to push. After leaving the rental house, she’d found Mia shivering outside despite the relative warmness of the air.

Kyra had taken her hand, despite the pain, and led her to the Marquis. She didn’t want to stick around in case one of the neighbors called the police. The other woman roused only long enough to request they pick up her things, and then she closed her eyes. Kyra had no choice but to hang tough, despite the pain spiking through her brain. She’d overloaded her circuits, and there was no help for it but medication and rest.

That set the tone for the next several days. They drove in near silence, both nursing private grief.

In Colorado, she had the Marquis painted white on the off chance anyone was still looking for her. The switched plates should do some good as well, as long as she drove within the speed limits and didn’t attract police attention. Mia huddled against the door, head against the window. Kyra had never seen her like this: so small and scared.

Just what the hell had happened? But any attempt to find out met with a wall of silence. Her friend wasn’t ready to talk, and Kyra had to respect that.

A rest stop where they used the bathroom had a small visitor’s center, and Kyra picked up a brochure for a gorgeous hotel called Chateau on the Lake. It promised soothing tranquility set amid pastoral beauty, lush gardens, in-house spa, massage therapy, tennis courts—pure luxury. Somewhere to rest sounded wonderful.

As they walked back to the Marquis, she asked, “What do you think?” and passed the flyer to her friend.

Mia read it over as she climbed into the passenger seat. “I could use it.”

They didn’t need a vacation as much as a place to lick their wounds. While Kyra didn’t know exactly what had happened between Mia and Foster, she recognized the wreckage in her eyes. God, she felt more or less the same, as if she’d been hit by a car, the scars too deep for anyone else to see.

She drove. The Marquis responded like a familiar friend, comfortable beneath her hands. Kyra focused on breathing, and tried to tell herself she didn’t hurt. She’d give anything if that wasn’t true of Mia.

By the end of the seventh day, they reached Branson, Missouri. Mia used her cell to call the hotel on the flyer to find out if they had a room. They did, and she reserved it.

Chateau on the Lake lay some four miles from the thea ters and eight miles from downtown, but Kyra didn’t imagine they’d want to explore the homey attractions. At least she didn’t. She intended to hole up, order room service, and try to forget.

The place was every bit as beautiful as the pictures claimed. Nestled amid trees and gardens, the yellow building gleamed in the last rays of the sun, gilding it. She hoped that meant they’d find some respite there. While Mia got her stuff, Kyra pulled the money case out of the floor of the car and tucked it into her duffel bag.

She didn’t think Reyes would come looking for her, but she didn’t mean to leave the money unattended until then. Her father had died, and she’d suffered for it, so she didn’t mean to let anyone take it.

Inside, it was positively lavish. Mia took care of check-in because a place like this didn’t work on a cash-only basis. She’d dip into her stash to cover her part of the stay. A bell-man took their luggage—paltry as it was—up to their rooms, and Kyra tipped him.

The room was every bit as nice as the lobby led her to believe: two full-sized beds with adjustable mattresses, rich mahogany furnishings, echoed in the window treatment. The walls were painted rich ochre, lending a warm air that was echoed in the colorful swirls of the bedspreads. Sateen-covered cushions sat at artful angles on the bed, and there were mints on the pillows.

Kyra tossed her bag beside the bed closest to the door. If someone came in on them, she was best suited to dealing with the problem. Mia wasn’t used to this shit; for all their friendship, they’d lived very different lives, and she was sorry she’d whispered even a hint of her intentions. It had been a rare phone conversation where, in a moment of weakness, she felt so totally alone that she just wanted someone to know where she was and what she was up against. She hadn’t reckoned on Mia’s sweet, fierce loyalty.

“Here’s the deal,” she said, dropping onto the bed. “Tonight we take hot baths. Order room service, including ice cream, and we get something girlie on pay-per-view. I’m not going to ask you any questions. But tomorrow we talk.”

Mia raised her brows. “I will if you will.”

Did she think I didn’t want to? Kyra considered. Possible. She didn’t know what kind of cues she’d been giving. It had been everything she could do to go through the motions without a full collapse.

“I’m just . . . raw,” she answered at last. “But I want to talk to you about it. You’re all I have left.”

Mia’s dark eyes glinted. “You, too. I don’t see my mom anymore, you know.”

“I’m sorry.” She hugged Mia, knowing it wouldn’t be bad or unpleasant.

Her friend was good with numbers, which was a particularly low-key talent. Mia wouldn’t need to tally any figures tonight anyway. Thereafter, they followed through with her plan—with one amendment. They used the spa before wading into personal matters, and it turned into a whole day of steaming, massage, yoga, hair, manicures, and pedicures, though Kyra requested the same person handle all of her treatments. They considered it a harmless eccentricity and granted the request. By the time they got back to the room, she almost didn’t hurt anymore. Maybe she could talk with equanimity now.

TV off, they sat on the beds cross-legged, facing each other. Mia smiled, but it was tinged with melancholy. “It’s been a long time since we did this.”

“Yeah.” Her throat clogged, as if physical comfort cleared the way for emotional baggage to break open, like luggage tossed too hard on a conveyer at the airport.

“So this Serrano had something to do with your dad dying . . . and then he sent someone after you . . .. What happened between you two? Though I wasn’t in the room very long, I saw how he looked at you.”

Shock went through her. “You didn’t see anything. You were scared to death.”

“That doesn’t make me blind or stupid,” Mia snapped. “I thought we were opening up? Stop stalling. I don’t show you mine, if you don’t show me yours.”

She clenched her teeth and spoke through them. “We had . . . chemistry. I thought I might be falling for him until I found out he was hired to kill me.”

“No shit,” Mia said. “You know, some of us take our thrills in smaller doses. I just date married guys for instance.”

“It wasn’t on purpose, ass.” But she smiled nonetheless.

The pressure in her chest eased a little, enough that she no longer felt like each breath sent a knife through her chest. God, she hated being stupid, and she’d been a class-A fool where he was concerned. Maybe she’d live through this after all.

“Tell me the sex was worth it, at least.”

Kyra thought about that, and a little shiver rolled through her. “Yeah. It was.”

“That’s something at least.”

“What about you and Foster?”

“No sex.”

With a scowl, Kyra folded her arms. “You know what I’m asking.”

“You want to know what happened. How I ended up tied to a chair.” Mia drooped a little, studying her lap. “I came looking for you . . . and ran into him. He said he’d help me. At first he seemed to. He kept me in the loop whenever he talked to your hit man.”

“Reyes. And he’s not mine.”

“Whatever. He kept me away from the casino. Didn’t want his boss seeing me, he said. But he must’ve been followed to one of our meetings because the next time I went out, I noticed I had somebody following me. I couldn’t think what else to do, so I went to him for help.”

“And he turned you over to Serrano.” Kyra’s hands curled into fists. “No wonder you were terrified. I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Mia said automatically. “Well, actually it is, but not . . . directly. It’s not like you told me to trust him. It’s just . . . worse because I . . . liked him.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “At one point I tried to kiss him and he jerked away like I had screaming fourth grade cooties.”

“He’s a weird one,” Kyra said. “But don’t take it personally. He had some vendetta against Serrano. He was using both of us.”

“He whispered to me not to be scared—that Serrano wouldn’t do anything to me before you got there—but how the hell was I supposed to believe that, after he lied about taking me someplace safe?” Mia’s wounded eyes demanded an answer.

Kyra didn’t have one. “We sure can pick ’em. But we’ll be okay, right? It’ll just take time.”

The other woman shrugged. “I guess.”

She felt oddly diffident about asking this. “Speaking of time . . . I wondered if you could take some off. I’d really like to just . . . I dunno. Hang out with you. Take a long break and start figuring out what to do next.”

Mia nodded slowly. “I’d like that. I wouldn’t mind going somewhere warm. We can lay in the sun for a while and bask away our sorrows.”

“Sounds fantastic.” If it couldn’t take away the pain, at least they’d have sunshine. She hesitated, and then added: “I got away with a huge amount of money, and I need to get it out of the country. I was hoping you could help me with that.”

A frown knit her friend’s dark brows together. “You know I specialize in catching people who try to do that, right?”

“Does that mean you can’t help me?”

A fulminating silence. Kyra opened her eyes wide, trying to appear cute and imploring. It wasn’t her best look.

“You know I can,” Mia muttered. “Let’s take that vacation and then we’ll talk more. I’ll think about it as we go.”

“Okay.” She knew the other woman well enough to realize that pushing at this point would just make Mia dig her heels in. A maybe was almost as good as a yes.

They stayed almost a week in Missouri. From there they meandered south, heading toward Florida. Mia wanted to go to Disney for some reason, and because it tickled Kyra’s sense of the absurd, she went along with it.

You just killed a bunch of guys, took revenge on your father’s murderer, got your heart broken, and stole three million dollars. What are you going to do now?

I’m going to Disney World.

And they did.

Mia rented a condo for a few weeks in Davenport, a two bedroom place with a long balcony and tropical décor. The plants were fake, and the floors were tiled in cool faux marble. It had no soul, just like Reyes’s loft.

After the first week, which passed in a flurry of tourist attractions, they spent the time lounging in the sun and catching up. She bought a bikini and high-SPF sunscreen. Mia bronzed like a goddess, but Kyra just gained another layer of freckles.

Time went in spurts, alternating fast and slow. Sometimes a patch of days sped by when she hardly thought of him at all. And sometimes she woke in a tangle of sweat-hot sheets, her body straining for someone who wasn’t there.

She didn’t want to remember lying in his arms in the backseat of the Marquis, didn’t want to listen to his raw, whispered confessions that made her feel as though she was the only one he’d ever trusted enough to talk to. And she didn’t want to remember that, in the end, she’d just been a job to him.

Not when he’d been so much more.

Kyra could no longer deny that was true. Though she had no personal experience to draw on, it seemed her tentative assessment of “I think I’m falling for you” hadn’t encompassed the whole. In truth, she’d fallen like a brick, and she still hadn’t hit bottom.

If there were a pill that could make her forget, she’d take it.

But there wasn’t, so she had to soldier on.

They’d been living in the condo for a month when Mia came in from the pool, looking brighter and more resolute than she had in weeks. It seemed she was finally starting to heal. That was good for her, bad for Kyra because she knew what was coming. Mia must be tired of the holding pattern and wanted to get back to her life.

That made total sense; she understood. Even so, she braced herself.

“I have a job offer,” Mia said without preamble.

“And you want to take it.”

“It’s lucrative.”

“It’s fine,” Kyra told her. “Go. I’m all in one piece. We’ve had our bonding time. I’ll stay out of trouble.”

Mia sank down slowly on the white and wicker sofa. “I don’t want to leave you. You’re . . . not okay.”

“Sure I am.”

Mia touched her arm. Evidently she didn’t mean to start work today. She’d known about Kyra’s ability for a long time, but it had never altered the way she treated her. Kyra loved her fiercely for that.

“You’re not. I hear you crying in your sleep sometimes.”

She cringed. That was beyond what she could tolerate, weakness displayed when she let her guard down. How utterly pathetic.

“I just miss my dad.” Which was true. It wasn’t all of it, but it was true.

“Yes. But you’re still thinking about someone else, too.”

“I . . . no. It’s not like that.” Kyra spun to her feet and paced. “It shouldn’t be. I just . . . I can’t get him out of my head. And instead of getting better, it just hurts more. I . . . ache.” She rubbed her chest against the tightness that thoughts of him always created. “I miss being touched. I miss him.”

Kyra knew she could never lie to Mia. She might be able to indulge in an impressive self-delusion, but Mia was too canny to be fooled. She found herself thinking how he’d helped her, how he hadn’t hurt her, no matter his orders. It would be crazy to go looking for round two with a guy like that, no matter how great the sex. Besides, she didn’t even know where to start. It wasn’t like they’d exchanged e-mail addresses.

Two days ago, she’d discovered that he had been telling the truth. At some point he’d put the money back. In the end he’d stayed with her because he wanted to, until she told him to go.

“Oh, honey,” Mia said softly. “I didn’t know. But you really—”

“Yeah.” Kyra wiped her eyes. “Most women pick a douche bag for their first relationship, but I take the cake. You’ve broken up with guys before, right? Does it eventually stop hurting?” She hated how sad she sounded.

“Eventually. Sometimes it takes years, depending on how much you felt, how deep it ran. There was this guy in college—God, I was crazy about him, and he left me for someone else. Sometimes . . . I still talk to him in my head. I miss him. There’s a little love left for him, even now.”

“So it doesn’t go away altogether if it’s real.” Kyra sighed and walked over to the window to gaze out; she could see the pool from here. She wondered where he was, if he’d forgotten about her by now.

Mia shook her head. “You just push it down and function until the day you meet someone who sparks something stronger than what’s left.”

“That’s the saddest thing I ever heard.”

“Welcome to the real world, babe. It’s not all skin games and winning bets.”

She turned. “You think my dad did me a disservice by raising me like he did.”

“It doesn’t matter, not anymore. It only matters what you do now.” Mia came over and hugged her, head on her shoulder. “How bad is he, really?”

“Reyes?” Kyra returned the hug and stepped back. “I know he’s done time. I know he kills people. He claims just the ones who have it coming. Bad enough, right? I should forget him.”

“You were never very good at doing what you should,” Mia noted. “And you’re not a bastion of moral fiber, either.”

“Speaking of which . . . I hate to ask, but—”

“What have I decided about helping with your cash situation?”

“Yeah.” A smiled flickered across Kyra’s mouth. “You know me too well.”

“I want to take care of you before I go,” Mia answered.

“That means making sure you have something to live on while you heal, and it’s not safe for you to be carrying around this much money.”

Kyra shook her head. “You know I can’t open an account here—a wanted felon with that much money? No thanks.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I caught a number of guys who were moving capital around in the islands, stealing from corporate accounts, and trying to bury it. All I had to do was follow the money.”

Her mouth twisted. “You’re talking about guys who got caught.”

“Yes, but that’s because they weren’t happy once they got it out of the country. And they used wires from existing bank accounts. We’re not going to do that.”

“What’s your plan then?” Kyra found herself reluctantly interested.

“We charter a sailboat to Barbados. They don’t look too hard at tourists coming in and out of the islands. Once there, you can open an offshore account for a million cash. Your warrants aren’t the kind to get you flagged in international databases.”

“That’s . . . genius.”

“Do you have a passport?”

Kyra nodded. “Dad insisted. He said you never knew when you might have to make a run for the border. I keep it in my purse, just in case.”

“Depending on where you disembark in Barbados, your passport may or may not be scanned. It would be to your advantage to stay out of the system,” Mia added, unnecessarily. “But again, even if they do, your warrants won’t qualify for extradition. You’re what we call a low-priority criminal.”

She smiled reluctantly. “It sounds doable. Do you know anyone who could help me? If not,” she hastened to add, “I can take care of it. You’ve given me the idea. That’s more than enough. Take your job. I’ll be fine. I just . . . need to get away.”

The islands sounded wonderful, even better than Florida. No clocks, nowhere to be. Maybe she’d even buy a house and invite Mia to come visit. Kyra wasn’t sure she was ready to settle down for good, but it might be nice to have a home base for a change. She’d tasted that in the form of a person, and now she found herself hungry for it. Maybe a place could offer some facsimile of belonging.

Mia leveled a long look on her with an inscrutable half smile before saying, “I might. Let me make some calls.”