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“Rohan being involved even in the abstract is seriously concerning,” he noted.
“We need to get word to Cat. Any ideas how to do that?”
Jack’s brows pulled together. He looked as miserable as I felt and that was saying something seeing as I felt like my heart had been torn from my chest and Atlee was now holding the cold, dead organ.
“She’s dark until the takedown.”
“Jack—”
“Save it, Wilson. I know she’s capable. I know she’s smart. I know she’s doing her job. But there is nothing you can say to me that will make me think what she’s doing is okay.”
“Is that because you have feelings for her?” I pressed.
“Sure, that’s part of it, but the larger part is me being a man in the business of saving women, not sending them in as bait. I understand I have no say in how she does her job; I can’t even argue she hasn’t been successful in plays she made. But that doesn’t mean I have to like them or support them. I want her out of there, and that has nothing to do with my feelings and everything to do with me knowing the danger she’s in. Every minute she spends alone with him is another minute she has to find a reason to help herself stay safe. Soon, she’s gonna run out of reasons and when she does that motherfucker is going to violate her.”
“Tomorrow night’s the auction.”
“That’s forty-eight hours. And, brother, you know better than most how drastically shit can change from one day to the next.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Yesterday morning I’d woken up next to Atlee thinking I could spend my life with her. This morning I woke up cold and alone wishing I’d kept my stupid trap shut.
A man could inflict a great deal of pain and he didn’t need days to do it.
TWENTY-FIVE
“Are you okay?” I heard someone ask beside me.
I glanced up from washing my hands. A pretty brunette a little taller than me was looking at me in the mirror, concern and anxiety stark in her features.
Admittedly, I didn’t look my best. I liked to be comfortable when I traveled; I was in a loose-fitting cardie over a tank top and soft cotton pants. I hadn’t bothered to do more than pull my hair up in a high ponytail and I was seeing now I should’ve at least dabbed some concealer under my eyes to hide the dark circles. I looked like I was coming down from a three-day bender.
Not a good look.
I used my foot to scoot my wheelie case closer to me to give the woman room to wash her hands.
“Yeah. Sorry, I didn’t mean to block the sink.”
As soon as I apologized I took in the bathroom through the reflection of the mirror. It was empty. There were five sinks. Yet she decided on the one right next to me.
People are so weird.
Especially in airports.
“Did you have a good time in Vegas?” she asked.
Weird and friendly.
“Sure. Did you?”
She almost looked startled by my answer like I was the weird one crowding her and striking up a conversation in the ladies’ room.
“Yeah…bachelorette party.”
There was no shortage of those in Vegas.
The woman was digging in her purse—and it must be noted with unwashed hands.
