By the time Ry finishes talking—about Hidden Agenda’s K&R work, the mess with Coop, and how hard it was for him to go to Sampson and Inara for help, his voice is hoarse, and it must be well after midnight.
I run a hand through my hair, wondering when it got so long. “I almost didn’t call tonight.” The admission lifts a weight from my chest. “But…I’m glad I did.”
Rolling my head from side-to-side, I cringe at the three loud pops. “I get migraines sometimes. What’s left of my vision, the TBIs…I need to crash. But, maybe—”
“I’ll call you in a couple of days?” The hope in his voice mirrors the emotion choking my throat, and I swallow hard before I can answer.
“Yeah. And maybe next time, you’ll let me get a word or two in, asshole.”
His deep laugh reaches one of the shattered pieces of my soul, and my eyes start to burn.
“Maybe I will, brother. Because I want to hear about Second Sight. About the migraines. About…what happened when I escaped.”
“Give me a little time for that last one. But…keep asking.”
“I promise,” Ry says.
Wren taught us both that one. The importance of the word promise. When I hang up, the tension I’ve carried since he walked back into my life weeks ago, washes over me in a violent wave, and I drop my head into my hands and let it out in loud, choking sobs until there’s nothing left.
7
Evianna
At precisely 7:00 a.m. the next morning, the burner phone on my counter vibrates.
Ford: I’m outside. Two blocks south. I’ll be behind you the whole way to work.
Kyle didn’t show last night, but he sent another series of increasingly angry email messages from several anonymous accounts. The last one warned me if I sent the cops after him again, I’d regret it. And he included a fun little animated GIF of a woman being stabbed through the heart. I sent it to Ford, but it’s just one more piece of evidence the police can’t do anything about.
I don’t understand what he thinks I did. Besides firing him. And that’s on him. Noah keeps telling me to ignore him and he’ll go away, but I can’t help feeling like there’s more to this. Kyle never struck me as…unstable. Eccentric, sure. High maintenance. Had to have his electrolyte-enhanced water, ate Sweet-Tarts like they were all he needed for a balanced meal, talked to his code sometimes. But this is a side of him I’ve never seen.
My walk to the T station is surreal. When I turn corners, I catch sight of Ford. All six-foot-ten inches of him. With a briefcase in his hand, he looks like all the other commuters around me—except for his size and the way he’s constantly scanning the crowd.
The phone vibrates again, and I stifle a snort as I read his message.
Ford: Stop looking for me. Act normal.
After I’ve swiped my fare card and make my way down to the platform, I respond.
Evianna: Being stalked isn’t exactly “normal” for me. Neither is having a bodyguard. You try acting normal with a giant, lethal-looking dude following you.
Ford: Think of me as a really tall teddy bear. Who knows how to fight. Dax and Trevor are the lethal ones.
On the train, I scan through my email. Nothing new from Kyle, but one of our test machines is throwing errors every few minutes. Great. This is going to be a stellar day.
I nod to the security guard on my way into the building. Ford slips into the elevator with me at the last second and punches buttons for the second, third, and fourth floor. “Sorry. I needed to talk to you for a minute.”
My heart skips a beat, and I swallow hard. “Is something wrong?”
“Not exactly. It’s nothing to do with your case. But I have an emergency I have to take care of. You’re not leaving the office today?” His hazel eyes carry a deep sadness, and a hint of something else, I think. Worry.
“No. It’s crunch time. We’re getting sandwiches delivered and it’s all hands on deck. I won’t leave until eight.” I heft my briefcase strap a little higher on my shoulder. “Hell, if I didn’t have to worry about scheduling with you, I might stay until midnight. But I can pack up at eight and finish up the night at home.”
Ford nods and runs a hand through his sandy hair. “Okay. The Dunkin’ Donuts right next door is open until ten. I have to coordinate with the rest of the team, but I’ll send someone there at eight to meet you. I’ll text you their photo once I figure out who’s free.”
The doors slide shut on the fourth floor, and the next stop is Beacon Hill. “Ford?” He meets my gaze, and I reach out to give his forearm a squeeze. “I hope everything’s okay.”
“Me too, Evianna. Thanks for understanding.”
