Skin Game Part 26

"It wasn't on purpose, a.s.s." 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. G.o.d, she hated being stupid, and she'd been a cla.s.s-A fool where he was concerned. Maybe she'd live through this after all.

"Tell me the s.e.x 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 s.e.x."

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 h.e.l.l 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 decor. 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 pa.s.sed 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 G.o.ddess, 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 a.s.sessment of "I think I'm falling for you" hadn't encompa.s.sed 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 not . I hear you crying in your sleep sometimes." . 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 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 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 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 s.e.x. 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 wanted to, until she told him to go. 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-G.o.d, 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 offsh.o.r.e 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 pa.s.sport?"

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 pa.s.sport 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."

CHAPTER 31.

The arrangements took another week.

Mia shopped and made a few adjustments to her professional wardrobe. With her deep tan, she looked fabulous in white and ivory, so she loaded up on pale suits that made her look like a million bucks. Kyra envied the way she could so easily look put together, no matter how quickly she got ready.

And then it was time for good-byes at the unG.o.dly hour of half past dawn. Despite the hour, Mia fussed like a mama hen with her last chick. "You'll meet your ride this afternoon in Miami, right? Dock twelve. Don't forget."

"I got it," Kyra said, waving the address. "Good luck."

They hugged. Downstairs, the cabbie leaned on the horn. Mia let herself out of the condo with a final wave. She was taking a taxi to the airport because she didn't like public farewells. They promised to call, all the usual stuff. Work had her heading to New Zealand, and Kyra thought the contract sounded like a fantastic opportunity.

Now she just had to get her stuff together, not that she had much. Afterward, she took a bath in preparation for an early start. At least the brown rinse had come out of her hair, finally, and the sun had lightened it further, streaking it almost white in places. There was no point in dressing up for a boat ride, plus it would look suspicious, so she dragged on a bikini and pulled a pair of cutoffs over the bottoms.

Kyra added a pair of sandals, sungla.s.ses, and sunscreen. This stuff smelled like coconut, and the scent brought to mind the way Reyes had buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. An ache curled through her. Kyra rubbed her chest, trying to make it go away. The need to see him, touch him, almost hurt, but she didn't have a way to get in touch with him, even if she wanted to.

"Jesus," she muttered. "Stop already."

With a final glance at the condo, she picked up her bags and headed out the door. It had brightened into a sunny morning-as if there were any other kind outside of hurricane season. In no particular hurry, Kyra made sure she drove the speed limit, and she made the drive in less than four hours. She stopped at a seafood place for lunch, and then took the long way to the marina, enjoying the sight of sails on the horizon. Soon she'd take her place among them.

People walked along the beach wearing very little, showing off tight bodies and dark tans. Kyra felt like she should be driving a convertible to fit the setting, but she wasn't lighthearted enough for that anyway. She'd put up a good front for Mia, knowing her friend wouldn't take the job any other way, but she wasn't looking forward to this trip. So many things could go wrong . . . she was sure Mia had lined up reliable help, but still. She was a little light on trust these days.

At ten minutes before the appointed hour, she reached the dock. Kyra paid for parking, figuring she'd talk to the guy first. If she didn't like what she saw, she wasn't going out on the ocean with him; that was d.a.m.n sure, no matter how highly recommended he came. Her gut seldom steered her wrong.

With one very notable exception: not not thinking about him. thinking about him.

If she thought he seemed trustworthy, she'd make arrangements to store her car while she was gone. Kyra didn't know how long she planned to stay in Barbados. She was back to taking things as they came.

Dock 12 held a thirty-some-odd-foot sailboat, a Hunter Legend. It wasn't new, but it was well kept. That seemed to be a good sign. She wasn't going to be any help out on the water, but she could follow directions. If her "tour guide" had patience, she'd learn.