“Yes,” I whisper.
“I want you to go there now.”
I stare at the bed across the room, already imagining what it will be like to sleep where he sleeps.
“Are you doing it?”
“Yes,” I answer.
I walk across the charcoal carpeting and draw back the comforter, breathing deeply as the scent of his cologne and body washes over me. I can hear his breath on the other end of the line, and it's almost like he's here with me.
“Go on, get under the covers.”
“Okay,” I breathe, my voice shaky. I don't know why, but I'm trembling everywhere. Sliding in between the cool sheets almost feels like sliding into his arms. I shudder as the soles of my feet push against the thick fabric and curl up on his pillow with the phone pressed under my ear.
“You’re perfectly safe there, Kita. You know that?”
I yawn, immediately so tired it feels like I am made out of melting taffy.
“I know,” I agree softly. “Though I would feel safer if you were here with me.”
“Oh… Yes, well. You sound so tired. You go to sleep now, okay? We will talk about this in the morning.”
“Okay, Daddy,” I sigh dreamily, then immediately half sit up, shocked and embarrassed. “I mean, Dan. Daniel. Is what I meant!”
I am babbling, pressing my fingers to my lips.
Oh my God, did I just call him Daddy again? That's insane!
But he doesn't react the way that I think he's going to. His breathing is slow, and I hear him sigh deeply, maybe making a humming noise that sounds like he didn't mind. Or maybe he liked it? Could that really be possible?
“Good night, Kita,” he finally says, sighing and smiling. I can hear it in his voice.
“Good night,” I repeat, almost saying it but not saying it. But still, the word is right there on the tip of my tongue.
Daddy.
Chapter 13
Daniel
It’s a short flight, and we touch down just as the sun is rising. I rush back through the airport and to my Mercedes with almost a sense of tunnel vision. I've got a single mission: get home and assess the situation.
Kita's late-night phone call upset me more than I want to admit. Who does Lizzie think she is, coming to my home? Trying to upset Kita? This is a whole new level of behavior, and I'm not going to stand for it.
Ever since my conversation with Candace I've been turning the implications over in my mind. If Lizzie has been involved in surveillance without authorization, she could be looking at a felony. She could be looking at jail time. We need to have a serious conversation very soon.
The miles go by without even registering on my brain. I'm completely on autopilot as I guide the Mercedes back home. After parking it in the garage, I jog around the front of the warehouse, looking for signs of intruders. Some of the plantings have been trampled, and the doormat is askew. I'm guessing two people, maybe three.
That's fine, ladies. You will be named as accomplices.
But even as I think it, I get a twinge of guilt. The plain fact is, there's only going to be one or two of them who are really responsible for what's going on. The rest just kind of go with the flow, letting Lizzie Whitmore boss them around, implicate them, maybe even form a shield for her. She is quite sophisticated that way. Kind of makes me wonder where she learned it.
Then again, I don't care. She's crossed a line, and there are going to be consequences.
After the garage door closes, I punch in the second code that double locks the door. The space is reinforced with extra security measures. Every window has roll-down screens. Every door has hidden bolts and panels. It's two layers of brick and one layer cinderblock, basically an aboveground bomb shelter if it needs to be.
I like to feel safe. There are a lot of bad people in the world.