Ava Gray - Skin Game

You just killed a bunch of guys, took revenge on your father’s murderer, got your heart broken, and stole three million dollars. What are you going to do now?

I’m going to Disney World.

And they did.

Mia rented a condo for a few weeks in Davenport, a two bedroom place with a long balcony and tropical décor. The plants were fake, and the floors were tiled in cool faux marble. It had no soul, just like Reyes’s loft.

After the first week, which passed in a flurry of tourist attractions, they spent the time lounging in the sun and catching up. She bought a bikini and high-SPF sunscreen. Mia bronzed like a goddess, but Kyra just gained another layer of freckles.

Time went in spurts, alternating fast and slow. Sometimes a patch of days sped by when she hardly thought of him at all. And sometimes she woke in a tangle of sweat-hot sheets, her body straining for someone who wasn’t there.

She didn’t want to remember lying in his arms in the backseat of the Marquis, didn’t want to listen to his raw, whispered confessions that made her feel as though she was the only one he’d ever trusted enough to talk to. And she didn’t want to remember that, in the end, she’d just been a job to him.

Not when he’d been so much more.

Kyra could no longer deny that was true. Though she had no personal experience to draw on, it seemed her tentative assessment of “I think I’m falling for you” hadn’t encompassed the whole. In truth, she’d fallen like a brick, and she still hadn’t hit bottom.

If there were a pill that could make her forget, she’d take it.

But there wasn’t, so she had to soldier on.

They’d been living in the condo for a month when Mia came in from the pool, looking brighter and more resolute than she had in weeks. It seemed she was finally starting to heal. That was good for her, bad for Kyra because she knew what was coming. Mia must be tired of the holding pattern and wanted to get back to her life.

That made total sense; she understood. Even so, she braced herself.

“I have a job offer,” Mia said without preamble.

“And you want to take it.”

“It’s lucrative.”

“It’s fine,” Kyra told her. “Go. I’m all in one piece. We’ve had our bonding time. I’ll stay out of trouble.”

Mia sank down slowly on the white and wicker sofa. “I don’t want to leave you. You’re . . . not okay.”

“Sure I am.”

Mia touched her arm. Evidently she didn’t mean to start work today. She’d known about Kyra’s ability for a long time, but it had never altered the way she treated her. Kyra loved her fiercely for that.

“You’re not . I hear you crying in your sleep sometimes.”

She cringed. That was beyond what she could tolerate, weakness displayed when she let her guard down. How utterly pathetic.

“I just miss my dad.” Which was true. It wasn’t all of it, but it was true.

“Yes. But you’re still thinking about someone else, too.”

“I . . . no. It’s not like that.” Kyra spun to her feet and paced. “It shouldn’t be. I just . . . I can’t get him out of my head. And instead of getting better, it just hurts more. I . . . ache.” She rubbed her chest against the tightness that thoughts of him always created. “I miss being touched. I miss him .”

Kyra knew she could never lie to Mia. She might be able to indulge in an impressive self-delusion, but Mia was too canny to be fooled. She found herself thinking how he’d helped her, how he hadn’t hurt her, no matter his orders. It would be crazy to go looking for round two with a guy like that, no matter how great the sex. Besides, she didn’t even know where to start. It wasn’t like they’d exchanged e-mail addresses.

Two days ago, she’d discovered that he had been telling the truth. At some point he’d put the money back. In the end he’d stayed with her because he wanted to, until she told him to go.

“Oh, honey,” Mia said softly. “I didn’t know. But you really—”

“Yeah.” Kyra wiped her eyes. “Most women pick a douche bag for their first relationship, but I take the cake. You’ve broken up with guys before, right? Does it eventually stop hurting?” She hated how sad she sounded.

“Eventually. Sometimes it takes years, depending on how much you felt, how deep it ran. There was this guy in college—God, I was crazy about him, and he left me for someone else. Sometimes . . . I still talk to him in my head. I miss him. There’s a little love left for him, even now.”

“So it doesn’t go away altogether if it’s real.” Kyra sighed and walked over to the window to gaze out; she could see the pool from here. She wondered where he was, if he’d forgotten about her by now.

Mia shook her head. “You just push it down and function until the day you meet someone who sparks something stronger than what’s left.”

“That’s the saddest thing I ever heard.”

“Welcome to the real world, babe. It’s not all skin games and winning bets.”

She turned. “You think my dad did me a disservice by raising me like he did.”

“It doesn’t matter, not anymore. It only matters what you do now.” Mia came over and hugged her, head on her shoulder. “How bad is he, really?”

“Reyes?” Kyra returned the hug and stepped back. “I know he’s done time. I know he kills people. He claims just the ones who have it coming. Bad enough, right? I should forget him.”

“You were never very good at doing what you should,” Mia noted. “And you’re not a bastion of moral fiber, either.”

“Speaking of which . . . I hate to ask, but—”

“What have I decided about helping with your cash situation?”

“Yeah.” A smiled flickered across Kyra’s mouth. “You know me too well.”

“I want to take care of you before I go,” Mia answered.

“That means making sure you have something to live on while you heal, and it’s not safe for you to be carrying around this much money.”

Kyra shook her head. “You know I can’t open an account here—a wanted felon with that much money? No thanks.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I caught a number of guys who were moving capital around in the islands, stealing from corporate accounts, and trying to bury it. All I had to do was follow the money.”

Her mouth twisted. “You’re talking about guys who got caught.”

“Yes, but that’s because they weren’t happy once they got it out of the country. And they used wires from existing bank accounts. We’re not going to do that.”

“What’s your plan then?” Kyra found herself reluctantly interested.

“We charter a sailboat to Barbados. They don’t look too hard at tourists coming in and out of the islands. Once there, you can open an offshore account for a million cash. Your warrants aren’t the kind to get you flagged in international databases.”

“That’s . . . genius.”

“Do you have a passport?”

Kyra nodded. “Dad insisted. He said you never knew when you might have to make a run for the border. I keep it in my purse, just in case.”

“Depending on where you disembark in Barbados, your passport may or may not be scanned. It would be to your advantage to stay out of the system,” Mia added, unnecessarily. “But again, even if they do, your warrants won’t qualify for extradition. You’re what we call a low-priority criminal.”

She smiled reluctantly. “It sounds doable. Do you know anyone who could help me? If not,” she hastened to add, “I can take care of it. You’ve given me the idea. That’s more than enough. Take your job. I’ll be fine. I just . . . need to get away.”

The islands sounded wonderful, even better than Florida. No clocks, nowhere to be. Maybe she’d even buy a house and invite Mia to come visit. Kyra wasn’t sure she was ready to settle down for good, but it might be nice to have a home base for a change. She’d tasted that in the form of a person, and now she found herself hungry for it. Maybe a place could offer some facsimile of belonging.