"Promise me you'll put nothing in writing and not go out together in public. You need a controlled environment, on neutral ground with no records and no witnesses."
"For now, I agree. Mikhail said no contact, and he wasn't suggesting," I fret.
She grunts, "Mikhail sets terms for people who don't know how to bend them. I do." She beams.
My fingers curl around my wrist. I shake my head, overwhelmed. "You're dangerous."
She grins. "Only to people who underestimate me."
I lean back into my seat. Exhaustion crashes inside me now that the fight-or-flight edge has dulled. I deadpan, "So we have to disappear."
She moves closer on the sofa cushion. "You don't disappear. You adapt. You keep him safe by staying smart. You keep yourself intact by letting me help."
My voice drops. "You swear this won't come back on Red?"
Her gaze locks on mine. "I swear." She picks up her phone. "I'll message you when it's arranged."
"Thanks."
She tilts her head. "Blue, you didn't do anything wrong. Loving someone doesn't make you weak."
"Says the girl who doesn't believe in it," I remind her.
She grins. "Yeah, but you do. So for you, it exists."
My smile falls, and tears well. "I do love him, Demi."
She nods. "I know you do."
"I want to see him. Today," I add.
Confidence flares on her face. She rises. "Then let me get to work."
CHAPTER FOUR
Red
Silence presses in from every direction, thick enough to register in my ears. I fight the urge to pace, waiting to know the next move after Demi's instructions, "Don't go anywhere. Stay tuned."
So I sit at the small dining table, my jacket still on, forearms resting on the surface, hands crushed together, wondering the same thing I can't escape.
Is Blue safe?
The answer never comes, only waves of thoughts about Blue hurting herself or doing something drastic that might get her into trouble.
I finally can't take it anymore. I stand and cross to the window, pushing the blinds aside just enough to look down at the street.
Several cars pass. Someone walks their little black dog. A woman jogs past in headphones, unaware that my life has narrowed down to a handful of variables I can no longer influence.
I drop the blinds back into place and turn away, staring at my phone that sits on the table where I left it after Demi's call.
Ten minutes pass before I return to the table and sit again. The chair creaks softly beneath my weight, the sound loud in the quiet. I flatten my palms against the wood until the urge to move passes. Time stretches, thin and deliberate.
One firm rap, followed by another, evenly spaced, hits the door, and I jump. The hairs on my neck rise, and I grab a knife out of the block, then move quietly toward the door. I peep out the eyehole.
A young kid in a baseball cap has an envelope in his hand.
I carefully open the door, hiding the knife behind it.
