Angel of the Dark

The Lisa you know! It was so poignant, so pathetic in a way, Lisa didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Matt said, “I love you so much. I don’t care what happened before you and I met.”

“You should, Matt. The past—”

“—is gone. You know, last night Danny McGuire asked me the same question you just did: How well do I really know you? How well do you really know me? And you know what the answer is?”

“What?”

“The answer is, we know what we need to know. We know we love each other. That’s enough.”

Lisa stroked his cheek tenderly. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“Yes. I do.”

“But what if someone’s past is a nightmare. What if it’s worse than you can possibly imagine? What if it’s unforgivable?”

“Nothing’s unforgivable.” Matt reached for her. “I’m not in love with your past, Lisa. I’m in love with you.”

Their lovemaking was more restrained than it had been the previous night. Less explosive, but closer, more tender. If Matt had had any doubts about Lisa’s feelings, they evaporated at the touch of her hand, the caress of her lips on his skin, his hair, the soft, lulling cadence of her voice. I love you, Matt. I love you.

Afterward Matt called room service and ordered two whiskeys. It was very late, past one, but both of their minds were racing.

Matt spoke first. “Let’s run away together.”

Lisa laughed. She adored Matt’s sense of humor. She’d laughed more since meeting him than at any time she could remember, despite the desperate circumstances.

“I’m serious. Let’s take off.”

“We can’t,” said Lisa, putting a finger to Matt’s lips.

“Sure we can. We can do whatever we want.”

“Shhh.” Lisa snuggled into him, her heavy eyes at last beginning to close.

“I’m serious,” said Matt.

“So am I. Now go to sleep.”

BY THE TIME LISA OPENED HER eyes, Matt was already at the desk, hammering away at his laptop. He’d had the forethought to have Mrs. Harcourt send over both his and Lisa’s computers from Bali in the Barings’ private plane, along with a small case of clothes and other essentials. They’d arrived at the Peninsula overnight.

Lisa watched him work, naked except for a small white towel knotted at his waist. He’s so beautiful, she thought with a pang. Not model handsome like some of the men she’d known over the years, but sexy in his own warm, loving, quirky way. She allowed herself a moment’s fantasy: she and Matt, married, happy, living far away from Hong Kong, far away from the rest of the world. Safe. Free. Together.

Catching her staring, Matt looked up and smiled. “Breakfast?”

Lisa grinned. ?

??Sure. I’m starving.”

They ordered fresh fruit salad and croissants with hot coffee and a side of crispy bacon for Matt. Lisa ate hers in bed, but Matt remained glued to the screen.

“What are you doing?” she asked him eventually, spooning the last of the honey onto her third croissant and biting into it greedily.

“I told you last night,” said Matt. “Planning our escape.”

“And I told you last night,” said Lisa. “We can’t just disappear together. Inspector Liu only released me from custody on condition that I stay in Hong Kong. Remember what John Crowley said last night? Don’t give him any ammunition. It’s vital that we play things by the book.”

Matt closed his computer. “Screw John Crowley.”