office staff were on vacation. Lila? They talked every day. How long would it take before Lila got worried about her lack of answers, callbacks, texts? Two days? Three? How about her mom? They talked once every week or two. It would take forever for mom to realize she was gone. This was so distressing that she sank to the floor of the shower stall, and then she started screaming, banging her fists on the shower wall and floor, as waves of grief and anger rolled through her.
“Kate!” Sloan burst in, worry on his face. “What’s going on?”
In reply, she howled her rage into the water.
He grabbed her from the floor of the stall and pulled her into his embrace, his face taut. “Talk to me, Kate.”
She sagged into his arms, not caring that she was naked or that she was getting him soaked. “My mom, my friends. My life! I need them!”
“Oh, Katie.” His voice was low, and he sat down on the floor and pulled her into his lap. “Shhh. It’s okay. Listen, you can’t talk to them yet. You just can’t. I’m sorry, Kate, but you need to stay silent until I say it’s okay. I know this is fucked up, but it’s going to keep you alive—and them too, maybe. We need to keep you out of sight, and I’m sorry you’re missing your family and friends. I’m sorry.”
His voice was like a melody, running over her, and she pushed her head into his shoulder, grabbing onto him with all of her strength, as if trying to climb inside his skin. He put one hand around her, and used the other to pull her head against his chest. “Shhh. It’s okay.” It was now, at this moment, that the truth hit her with clarity: He was an FBI agent, a good man. He wasn’t in league with Mancini. He was going to keep her safe.
He held her that way for what seemed like an hour, stroking her shoulder, until she stopped trembling and crying, and still he held her until she began to shiver, and looked around, confused, as if uncertain where she was or what she was doing. It was then that she noticed her nakedness and flushed hard, embarrassed. “Sloan, I’m sorry, I—I’m just so confused and upset and I don’t even know what to think.”
“It’s all right. How about you get dressed and come out and we’ll talk about what needs to happen now.”
But his face was so close to hers, those blue eyes looking right into her. His lips were mesmerizing, so soft and strong. She wanted to run her finger over the top lip, then the bottom one. She wanted to trace his cheekbones with her fingertip and feel him clench his jaw under her touch. She could feel the breath from his mouth and she leaned in toward the warmth of his essence. “Sloan.”
“Kate.” His hands tightened on her body and he shifted under her, and she could feel his arousal. He was as attracted to her as she was to him. He ran the side of his hand down her face, a bare touch, then ran his fingers over her shoulder. When his eyes flickered to her breasts, she sucked in her breath and arched her back, wanting him to palm a nipple, to squeeze, to touch. Please .
But he looked away. “Get up, Kate.” His voice was tense. “We have work to do.”
He helped her stand, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll see you when you’re dressed.”
The t-shirt was too big, and one side fell down her shoulder, giving her a rakish 80s club-girl look. The sweats were loose on her hips and she tied the waist-string as tightly as possible to keep them from sagging. But she felt a million times better, smelling like fresh Dial soap instead of old puke. She combed her hair with her fingers. She’d have to ask for a brush.
Eyeing her filthy clothes with distaste, she spotted the folded-up piece of paper from Ella next to her grubby bra. How had she forgotten about this for so long? It was damp now, and the outside edge peeled up into little loose pieces of paper, minuscule logs and baubles. She used her fingernail to pry it open, and unfolded the many flaps. It reminded her of notes from grade
“Kate!” Sloan burst in, worry on his face. “What’s going on?”
In reply, she howled her rage into the water.
He grabbed her from the floor of the stall and pulled her into his embrace, his face taut. “Talk to me, Kate.”
She sagged into his arms, not caring that she was naked or that she was getting him soaked. “My mom, my friends. My life! I need them!”
“Oh, Katie.” His voice was low, and he sat down on the floor and pulled her into his lap. “Shhh. It’s okay. Listen, you can’t talk to them yet. You just can’t. I’m sorry, Kate, but you need to stay silent until I say it’s okay. I know this is fucked up, but it’s going to keep you alive—and them too, maybe. We need to keep you out of sight, and I’m sorry you’re missing your family and friends. I’m sorry.”
His voice was like a melody, running over her, and she pushed her head into his shoulder, grabbing onto him with all of her strength, as if trying to climb inside his skin. He put one hand around her, and used the other to pull her head against his chest. “Shhh. It’s okay.” It was now, at this moment, that the truth hit her with clarity: He was an FBI agent, a good man. He wasn’t in league with Mancini. He was going to keep her safe.
He held her that way for what seemed like an hour, stroking her shoulder, until she stopped trembling and crying, and still he held her until she began to shiver, and looked around, confused, as if uncertain where she was or what she was doing. It was then that she noticed her nakedness and flushed hard, embarrassed. “Sloan, I’m sorry, I—I’m just so confused and upset and I don’t even know what to think.”
“It’s all right. How about you get dressed and come out and we’ll talk about what needs to happen now.”
But his face was so close to hers, those blue eyes looking right into her. His lips were mesmerizing, so soft and strong. She wanted to run her finger over the top lip, then the bottom one. She wanted to trace his cheekbones with her fingertip and feel him clench his jaw under her touch. She could feel the breath from his mouth and she leaned in toward the warmth of his essence. “Sloan.”
“Kate.” His hands tightened on her body and he shifted under her, and she could feel his arousal. He was as attracted to her as she was to him. He ran the side of his hand down her face, a bare touch, then ran his fingers over her shoulder. When his eyes flickered to her breasts, she sucked in her breath and arched her back, wanting him to palm a nipple, to squeeze, to touch. Please .
But he looked away. “Get up, Kate.” His voice was tense. “We have work to do.”
He helped her stand, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll see you when you’re dressed.”
The t-shirt was too big, and one side fell down her shoulder, giving her a rakish 80s club-girl look. The sweats were loose on her hips and she tied the waist-string as tightly as possible to keep them from sagging. But she felt a million times better, smelling like fresh Dial soap instead of old puke. She combed her hair with her fingers. She’d have to ask for a brush.
Eyeing her filthy clothes with distaste, she spotted the folded-up piece of paper from Ella next to her grubby bra. How had she forgotten about this for so long? It was damp now, and the outside edge peeled up into little loose pieces of paper, minuscule logs and baubles. She used her fingernail to pry it open, and unfolded the many flaps. It reminded her of notes from grade
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