“Leo could not have been involved with the break-in,” I say. “He was with me.” The lie should not come so easily, but wearesupposed to be dating. “He has been vetted. If you have a problem with that…?”
“It’s okay, baby,” Leo says, releasing my hand and wrapping an arm around my waist. “If I were the vice president’s campaign manager, I’d be suspicious of me too.” He turns to Rafael and gives him a lopsided smile. “See you tomorrow?”
“Just stay out of the way,” Rafael mutters as he slides the pass across his desk. “Get some rest, Domina. You look like you need it.”
I’m too shocked—and too tired—to reply, but I hope my stare causes him at least a moment of regret.
Leo tightens his arm around me and guides me through the security gates. Once he retrieves his backpack and mobile phone, he leans in to whisper in my ear. “That guy’s a dick. You’re beautiful.”
My cheeks warm. “I am a mess. I think I only slept three hours last night. Are you certain you don’t need glasses?”
Outside, dappled sunlight filters through the clouds. I expect Leo to let me go now that no one is watching us, but he keeps me close until we turn the corner. “My eyesight is just fine,” he says. “At least in the one eye I have left.” His tone takes on a hard edge, and he positions me with my back against the wall of the building.
I’m about to ask what he’s doing when he turns in a slow circle, scanning the small groups of people all around us.
“Can I take you to lunch? Preferably somewhere with outdoor seating?” he asks when he returns his focus to me.
“There is a sandwich shop only a block from our apartment building. They have an excellent takeaway menu.”
He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “Domina, I can’t see much on my right side. It’s a hell of a lot easier for me to make sure no one’s following us if we can sit outside for a while. I know you’re tired, but this is how I keep you safe.” A light kiss to my neck, and he adds, “It’s also an excuse to spend time with you.”
Only his lips on my skin keep me calm. He really does think I’m in danger. And…he’s kissing me. Out here, where no one on the campaign staff is watching. “I…I know a place. It’s a ten-minute walk. Or I can call a car.”
Drawing back, he cups my cheek. “Perfect. We can walk. And when we’re in public together, stay on my left side, always.”
“Your left?” I’m confused, but when he offers me his hand, I take it.
“I need to be able to see anyone coming for you,” he says quietly. “And with how messed up my right leg is, it’s easier for me to pivot on my left if I had to.”
Glancing up at him, I try to read his expression, but he won’t meet my gaze. He’s looking everywhereexceptat me. The bodega on the corner with half a dozen customers. The small park across the street. At a man walking a fuzzy white poodle directly in front of us.
With Leo so focused on our surroundings, I let my mind wander, concerned only with directing us to Cucina de Mare, one of the nicer seafood restaurants in this area of Panama City.
A car horn blares, and I tighten my grip on Leo’s hand. “You okay?” he asks.
“Not in the least.”
He stops us from crossing the street, turning to me and holding my gaze. After a moment, he blows out a slow breath. “I wasn’t thinking. I’ll take you home. If we go the long way—double back once or twice—it’ll be enough.”
Despite the strain of the morning, my exhaustion, and my worry someone will come after me again, the idea of adatewith Leo—even a fake one—had sent a little thrill through me. I do not want to give up what might be my only chance to spend a few, easy hours with him.
“We need to eat. Cucina de Mare is supposed to be excellent.”
“You’ve never been?” He checks both sides of the street, and though up close, it is obvious how he has to swivel his head to see to his right, I don’t think anyone else would notice.
“No.” As soon as the light changes, we rush across the busy intersection. “Everyone has been working nights and weekends for months preparing for the election. Rafael set us up with expense accounts for Comida Móvil so we could have dinners delivered to the office or to our homes.”
“Shit. When was the last time you had any fun?”
Embarrassment has me pulling my hand from his. “Mina’s birthday dinner back in April? She’s one of my oldest friends. But we haven’t done more than talk on the phone in months.”
Saying the words, I realize how little I havelivedthis past year.
“Once Manuel announced his candidacy, I gave up…everything. Muñoz is vicious. He believes Panama was a better country under Noriega.” The idea of him taking the presidency sickens me, and I reach for my mobile, suddenly worried I might have missed a call or text. But there’s nothing, and I do not know how I feel about that.
“We’re here,” Leo says. He offers me his arm—like a gentleman—and I tuck my hand in the crook of his elbow. In flawless Spanish, he asks for a table in the shade, but with a full view of the street, then holds my chair until I’m seated.
Once we have menus and glasses of sparkling water in front of us, he leans forward, his stare so intense, I want to look away. “Whatever is going on? We’ll figure it out. And until we do, I’ll keep you safe.”
