“You didn’t know,” Samara whispered back, sliding Lynx’s braids out of her face.
“But I could’ve been there sooner. I could’ve told Mike or Carson or someone. I didn’t.”
“How did you finally find out where I was? I thought I was completely under the radar.”
Lynx stared at the floor, embarrassed to admit the truth. “I knew a guy, a client, who was a DEA agent. One night after we were finished, I mentioned finding you to him. The next time I saw him, he gave me the name of your old pimp. From what I gathered, he sold some info to the Feds, and in his statement, he mentioned getting a pretty penny for an introduction to you.”
Samara shook her head. “I can’t believe it. Stew was always a creep.”
“Lucky for you that Stew told someone. That must be where Landon got his tip from.”
“I’ll have to ask him one day. We haven’t really talked about it.”
“You only have to talk about what you want.”
“I know. So, after the agent told you, what did you do?”
“I started sniffing around about getting over there ... with the sheik. Mike was antsy for me to get out of the trade, but I was in too deep. It wasn’t fair to him, but I couldn’t leave my inner circle. Then it was blind luck when Bruno mentioned his contact.”
“Thank you, Lynx. Thank you for risking everything for me. Thank you a million times.”
The pair had ended back up in an embrace, crying it all out, hugging each other and never wanting to let go.
“Now I have a sister,” Lynx had whispered.
“Me too,” Samara had whispered back.
“HOW WASclass?” Samara asked now, stretched out with a cranberry-colored chenille blanket tossed over her legs, and the news on.
Watching the news had become somewhat of an obsession for her. She was paranoid someone was coming to get her or war was starting ... or any number of crazy scenarios. Her therapist told her to stop, and advised Lynx to ignore her conspiracy theories when she picked up Samara one day. At least Samara still went to the shrink, unlike her. Apparently, once Sammy felt safe again, the doctor had said, her fears would begin to dissipate.
“Eh, Marta goes to that gym. I should’ve known when Ash gave us the membership ... probably all the girls at the club belong there. But since I’ve been going early in the morning, I’ve missed them.”
Lynx sat opposite Samara in a taupe chair, her legs tucked under her, and pulled her hair out from the bun. With her braids falling down her back, she blew out a breath. “She all but begged me to see Mike. Said he’s doing bad.”
Samara clicked off the TV. “Yeah, Landon said he heard the same from Carson.”
“What? How often do you talk with Landon?”
“He calls me sometimes. To catch up.”
Lynx thought that was definitely interesting, but didn’t push. He’d certainly looked a lot different the last time she saw him. His black hair had grown out into a short buzz, and he’d not been wearing his frown. In fact, he’d even smiled a little, his teeth white and straight.
“I’m going to shower, and then do you want to take a walk on the beach?”
“Yep. I’m off today, but tomorrow, I have a double. Sunday, gotta love drunk men and their football.”
Samara was bartending at a chic steak place, making serious bank on tips. Over the last few months, she’d developed a following who came in during her shift.
“Give me ten.”
Lynx hit the shower, hurrying because for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to think about seeing Michael.
Visions from the night she got off the plane bombarded her. In her mind’s eye, she saw him standing there, his jeans stretched on his wide thighs, his track jacket zipped up tight, and basketball shoes only partly laced on his feet as he waited for her.
She’d ignored him, brushing by him and heading into Asher’s open arms—a man she barely knew in comparison.
