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“Are you okay?” she asked.
Blade growled but didn’t look up. She fetched her pistol and put it in her purse. She brushed a hand over her scarf to make sure it covered her chest and felt tip of a raised, ragged scar. She knew each mark by heart and could vividly recall the agony as Sadist inflicted the wounds, staring down at her with soulless black eyes. She paced as she tried to suppress the memories. She turned on Blade who still hadn’t moved.
“I guess that really works,” she said.
If looks could kill, she would have perished. Blade’s jaw flexed as he restrained himself. He rose slowly and took an experimental step before he waved his hand.
“Let’s go,” he said in a husky voice.
She didn’t need to be told twice. She walked out of the conference room and was confronted by the rest of her security detail. Two guards took the lead and two fell behind while Blade kept pace beside her. They walked on the outskirts of the casino.
“I’m ready, don’t you think?” she asked.
“Gavin won’t let you attend. The enemy could shoot you from a distance. Maybe I’ll let them,” he said, clearly still agitated over her crotch shot.
“But this guy likes to play.” Her stomach pitched as flashbacks began to wash out her surroundings. “He could have shot Manny and I the first time, but he didn’t. He drew it out. He wanted to teach us a lesson and use his knife...”
Everything around her faded into nothingness. Memories of the day Manny was killed slammed into her. The elegant casino disappeared, and she was once again in Manny’s mansion, hands pinned behind her as she watched Manny being beat to death. Her body broke out in a cold sweat, and terror flooded her. Someone grabbed her arm and she wrenched away.
“Don’t touch me!” She backed up and tried to shake the visions away as the sound of bones breaking and the cruel laughter of the monster who systematically tore Manny to pieces echoed in her ears.
“Lyla, it’s okay. It’s me.”
She came up against a wall, braced her hands on her knees, and tried to catch her breath. She clenched her teeth against the need to scream. She felt exposed and vulnerable with the guards watching, waiting for her to get a grip. She wished Alice or Janice was here to chase away her nightmares.
“Lyla, it’s me,” Blade said.
“G-give me a minute,” she wheezed and placed a hand over her racing heart.
“It’s all in your head.”
She raised her head and glared. “You think I don’t know that?”
“This isn’t the place to have a panic attack,” he snapped impatiently.
She was considering the pros of shooting him when she heard one of her guards say, “Can I help you?”
“Morgan?”
She straightened abruptly. Something about that voice snapped her out of her nightmare and into the present. It couldn’t be... She looked around Blade and came face to face with her past. Her body went cold with shock. Jonathan, the ex she left in Maine, was standing less than eight feet from her.
3
Lyla
“Jonathan,”she whispered.
Jonathan was just shy of six feet with light brown hair and eyes. He was clean-cut and approachable in khaki pants and a purple button up shirt. He had the softness of a man who didn’t go to the gym, and the paleness of someone who worked in front of a computer twelve hours a day. He hadn’t changed a bit. Seeing him sent a spear of something sharp and painful zinging through her. It was as if Gavin’s questions about romance had conjured him out of thin air.
Memories of their first meeting tickled the back of her mind.
“Can I take you out to dinner?” he’d asked the first time he stepped up to her window at the bank.
“Sorry, no,” she said and tried to steer their conversation back to a professional level. “Do you want to deposit this into your checking account?”
“Boyfriend?” he persisted.
She finally met his gaze head on. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”
