Enemy's Secret

Finally, though, we get there. The sprawling airy building filled with hulking palm trees. Orlando International Airport. We even make it on our red-eye flight with a few minutes to spare.

I put on some headphones and listen to some Radiohead so I won't think about it. How Kyra's staring at everything without seeing it. How she didn't even notice the few times I tried holding her hand.

This isn't about me, us, though. Being a lawyer was her dream. Now, by the sound of it, that dream may be in danger.

I clench at the arm rest, the bar between us. Although there's a whole lot more between us right now.

This is one instance where I can't help. At all.

Other than giving her space.

The rest of the flight, she stays sleeping, and I keep listening. I have some of those free pretzels. I'd have gotten us first-class seats, but they were all booked up. This is getting us where we're going anyway.

Once we've retrieved our luggage and made it to the taxis, we pause.

"Thank you for everything," Kyra says, half-turned to me, half-turned to the taxis. Her sad brown eyes meet mine. "Sorry I had to leave like this"

"Don't be," I say, with a shake of my head. "I'm sorry I picked up that fucking phone."

Kyra's shoulders rise in a semi-shrug. "We had to find out sometime."

She's right, of course. But if it could've waited even another day... a half-day. Just so we could've had some more time...

"Do you want me to come with you?" I say. "I could..."

I trail off; she's shaking her head already.

"I need to do this alone," she says, body and gaze swiveled to her destination now. "I'm sorry."

I don't mention how she's saying that a lot lately. I don't urge her to let me come along. I don't take her hand.

Even though I can't remember wanting anything this much.

"I'll let you go," I say.

"OK," she says.

And, fuck me, she looks so pretty in her shimmering black dress. The one from the dinner she never had time to change out of.

I should tell her.

Tell her that fuck it, whatever it is, we'll make it work. That I want to be there for her, with her.

But all I do is say "OK" and let her leave in her taxi, and go home in mine.

The cab ride home takes too long. The driver isn't slow this time; it just does.

Back at my place, I go up the elevator, down the hallway.

Then I open up the door to my penthouse, and gape at what I see. "What the... fuck."

Chapter 23

Kyra

This is it.

The day. The hour.

Last night after I got home from the airport, I couldn't sleep because of it. Now, I can hardly breathe because of it.

Best navy-and-grey Hugo suit and I'm-not-afraid smile on, two coffees in my belly, I'm ready. Outside the door of their office, waiting with a dismal looking dracaena, I try to remember to breathe.

What are you waiting for? Knock. Do it. Get this over with.

It's 8:45 AM, fifteen minutes earlier than specified. But that's the kind of woman I am, the kind of lawyer I am - the kind who shows up early and goes above and beyond for every case. Who drills at it until it's won.

Then why am I nervous as hell? Why can't I knock on this goddamn stupid fake wood door to Goldtree's goddamn stupid ugly office?

Probably because the woman who goes above and beyond, who roots out everything to know about a case and throws it in the face of the opposition like acid, who pecks and pecks at a case like a woodpecker, has failed. Big time.

For the first time, I'm not sure I can argue that I killed this case. I'm not sure I can vouch for myself.

Screw it -

My knuckles connect with the door harder than I intended. The impact jars up my arm.

The door opens. I swallow.

Some fake fruit air freshener scent assaults me as I take in the scene.

Every chair is occupied - every who's-who executive is in attendance.

This is so not good.

"Ms. Masterson, do come in," Bart says.

As he moves aside, the bright overhead lights shine on his bald spot. He goes to sit down with everyone else.

There's no chair for me.

"We'll cut to the chase," he says pleasantly. "You're off the case."

"I will too, then." My voice comes out shockingly cool; I'm all nerves inside. "Why?"

He peers at me a bit froggily. "Don't you know? Well, here it is: You missed key information, due, we believe, to your closeness to our employee in question who has admitted to accepting the bribe. Pamela Thorson came forward herself. Then, it's come to our attention that you've been involved with the defendant's President, Mr. Landon Storm."

There it is. What I've been dreading. What I need to lie about. What I'm not willing to lie about.