“What makes you think I’m in trouble?”
“We’re clairvoyant,” Emily said dryly. “Now tell us where you are.”
“I’m in a taxi.”
“Where in a taxi?”
Lissa peered out the window, spotted a street sign and told them what it said.
“Excellent,” Jaimie said. “We’re only a few blocks away.” She named a hotel in Beverly Hills. “Do you know where it is?”
“Yes. But—”
“Melissa,” Emily said patiently, “you can’t go to your apartment and w
e’ve got the television on, so we know that your has-been actor is too busy taking care of himself to worry about taking care of you.”
“Didn’t I just tell you that he isn’t a has-been? And he did take care of me. He had me flown here.”
“Right. He sent you off into the wilderness on your own.”
Lissa’s belly knotted. That wasn’t true. Of course it wasn’t true—
Her gaze went to the mirror again. The cabbie looked away, but not soon enough. She twisted in her seat and whispered into the phone.
“OK. I’ll come to your hotel, but you have to promise not to ask me any questions. Is it a deal?”
“Write down the room number,” Jaimie said.
“It isn’t a room,” Emily said, “it’s a suite. Write it down.”
“Did you two hear what I said? No questions! Deal?”
“No questions,” Emily said. “Not a one.”
“Promise?”
“For heaven’s sake, Melissa, what are we, children? No questions! We get it. Now, how about you getting this? We’re in suite 1964. Can you remember that?”
“But don’t come straight here,” Jaimie said. “Let the cab take you to a different hotel, then grab another and take it to this one. You don’t want anybody following you.”
For a merciful couple of seconds, Lissa forgot everything but her middle sister’s newfound interest in cloak-and-dagger stuff.
“My sister,” she said, “the secret agent’s fiancée.”
“Zach isn’t a secret agent.”
“Don’t be silly! Of course he is.”
Lissa disconnected while they were still arguing and checked for messages again. There were none.
Nick, she thought, oh, Nicholas, why don’t you call?
She needed him. And surely he needed her. He had to call, and soon.
* * *
When she’d first arrived in L.A. three years ago, Lissa had stayed two nights in a moderately-priced hotel on Santa Monica Boulevard while she’d looked for an apartment.