Roxy got dressed, making as little noise as she could.
Yeah, she was tired. But she was exhilarated, too. And
she needed to speak with Calliope. She’s rather do it in
person for a whole lot of reasons, some of which had
to do with the Asetian Guard and with Dana, but most
of which had something to do with the guy sprawled on
her cream-colored sheets, sleeping the sleep of the dead.
Definitely not a snorer.
She wasn’t used to explaining her whereabouts to
anyone, but she left a note propped on the table by the
bed, just in case he woke up while she was gone. It felt
wrong somehow to just leave him here alone without
any explanation.Back soon. Leave me a number to
reach you if you need to go before I get back.
Staring at the message, she wondered if that was too
casual. Then she shrugged. Too bad if it was. She
couldn’t be—didn’t want to be—other than who she
was. And she wasn’t about to expect him to sit here
waiting for her, either.
They’d existed in separate lives for a very long time.
They’d existed in the same life for three—or was it four
now?—whole days.
They’d both need to do some adjusting.
She left him sleeping, grabbed her keys from the
glass bowl in the entry hall and headed for the garage.
Once inside the car, she opened the glove box and took
out a disposable cell. She dialed the number from
memory. She hadn’t written it down, hadn’t wanted to
risk leaving any evidence, any trail.
Calliope’s people had moved Dana and her mom
