What She Doesn't Know (38 page)

“Let’s go over the key players again,” he said, pulling out the notes they’d taken.

When they’d quizzed each other on who matched what feature, she looked at the clock. He was also looking. One-thirty. Their gazes met, and she hoped he couldn’t see her anxiety.

“It’s almost time,” he said. “Are you sure….”

“Yes,” she answered before giving herself a chance to think about it. “I’d better get changed.”

He walked her down the hall and checked the employees’ restroom before she entered. The offices were relatively quiet. Rita figured most of the employees were out in the public areas. She pulled on the black “body suit” adorned with tulle and satin. The drapes over her shoulders were enhanced by pads. She’d made a belt, and the curled strips of gold fabric trailed down to her ankles. Swaths of fabric wrapped snugly around her waist. For the first time, she didn’t see a drab woman when she looked at her full-length reflection.

That’s because Christopher called you beautiful.

“Mm,” she said to her reflection.
 

She put the finishing touches on her makeup and hair and then draped one last piece of teal tulle over her head as a scarf. Not bad.
 

As Rita looked at her reflection, she saw something in her features she’d never seen before: her mother. Angela was more angular and worn by life, but Rita could see her in her eyes and cheekbones. She pulled the cell phone from her bag. Angela answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Mama.”

After a moment of silence, Angela said, “Rita? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Mama.”

It felt good to say the word, and by Angela’s intake of breath, it felt good to her, too. “Are you all right?” she asked after a moment.

“I’m okay. I just…needed to hear your voice.”
 

Rita heard a choking sound. “You…you did?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I’m ready to be a daughter again. I’m sorry for being so harsh.”

“It wasn’t you,” Angela rushed to say. “It’s all my fault, I made so many mist—”

“Mama, we both did. Let’s let all that go, okay? Let’s start fresh.”

“Oh…baby-girl, you got a deal.” The emotion in Angela’s voice choked up Rita, especially the old endearment. Angela hadn’t forgotten.

“I’ll be done here in a day or so, and then…” Rita took a deep breath, fortifying herself for reaching out. “Then I have a feeling I’ll need some mothering.”

“It won’t be an inconvenience. I don’t want you to even think that, no matter what you ever need.”

Rita rubbed a tear from her eye, smudging her makeup. “Ditto.” She sniffed. “I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you soon.”
 

After disconnecting, she dabbed at her eyes and touched up the makeup. She put on the finishing touches and padded back to the office, anxious to see Christopher’s reaction. He wasn’t there. She felt under the cot for her shoes, realizing with dismay that they were hardly suitable for the costume. Atir wouldn’t wear sensible pumps. Maybe they could stop along the way and find short, black boots.

Christopher opened the door after a quick knock. He started to say something but stopped, his mouth slightly open. She was so entranced by the appreciation in his eyes, she didn’t notice what he was wearing at first.

He wore the Alta outfit they’d found at the warehouse, but she couldn’t imagine Brian—bless his soul—looking as magnificent as Christopher did. He didn’t need shoulder pads to enhance his shoulders, that was for sure. The shiny “armor” fit his dark looks, and the body suit melted over his muscular frame.

“Wow,” she finally managed.

“Wow, yourself,” he returned, coming closer.
 

“When did you get that?”

His expression turned grim. “The day I was running errands, handling Brian’s funeral arrangements.” When Sira had slipped her the ketamine.

She wanted to chase away the blame she saw on his face and did a fancy curtsy in front of him. “Your majesty.” She was rewarded by a grin.
 

“Maybe I could get into this.”

“Don’t push your luck.” She glanced down at herself. “If anybody at home saw me like this…”

“Remember, you’re supposed to be letting go of your need to put on that image.”

“Come to think of it, I’d love for the people at work to see me like this.” She crossed her arms. “And don’t forget, you’re supposed to be celebrating your emotions.”

“What?”

“Alta’s hang-up was holding back his emotions, something I’m sure you can’t relate to.” She lifted an eyebrow as he realized what she was talking about. “Let’s see some tears, your majesty.”

He laughed. “This is all an act. Don’t forget that.”

She tilted her head. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the act from the real thing.”

He looked away for a moment but surprised her by dropping down in front of her. “Please, Atir, don’t break my heart by questioning my intentions.” He feigned a devastatingly hurt look that had her again reminding herself this was an act. “Please sit, my love. I have something for you.”

She was in serious danger of falling for this act. When she sat down, he gently took one foot and slid on a gold pump.

“Is it a good fit, my queen? You know how I love to please you.”

She shivered, remembering how he had pleased her last night when she’d finally let him take control. Then she realized he was talking about the shoe sparkling on her right foot. “Where did you get this, my lord?” She wiggled her toes—a little tight. “It’s a perfect fit.”

“My mother was, after all, queen of Carnival.”
 

She remembered seeing these shoes at Brian’s house. “You didn’t tell me you had these.”

“I was hoping you’d back out.” He gently put on the other shoe and ran his finger down her calf. He stopped himself and reached beneath the coat on the desk for a gem-covered necklace. Only he set it on top of the scarf on her head. A rhinestone dangled at her forehead.
 

She let him pull her to her feet and looked at her reflection in a mirrored picture on the wall. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful.” He touched her chin again. “I am proud to have you at my side. But I shall never recover if anything should happen to you. My heart would crumble into pieces, and my blood would cease to flow. Do you understand, Atir, how much you mean to me?”

She felt her eyes water as she nodded, then mentally kicked herself again for getting drawn in. He was looking right into her eyes instead of looking away as he did when he said something he meant. Let him think she was acting, too.
 

She placed her hand against his cheek. “I shall place my heart in your hands for safekeeping. I know you shall take good care of it. I will forever treasure your words, spoken from your own heart.”

He leaned down and captured her mouth with his, a gentle kiss reminiscent of last night. Gentle though it was, it still stirred her body. His hands possessively settled on her waist.
 

“Chris, I realized something last night. Before”—she gestured between them—”The anger I felt for my mother and father, the nosebleeds I got whenever I was in an intimate situation with a man, it was all a way to stay comfortable. Letting that go meant I had to take a chance by restarting a relationship with my mom. Overcoming my nosebleeds meant having to open myself to hurt and rejection. It meant stepping out of my safe zone. Believing you’re inherently bad, that those in your life will end up hurt, keeps you in your comfort zone, too.” She put her finger over his mouth. “Don’t say anything, just think about it. It took some time to settle in.”

He acknowledged her request with a nod and turned to pull his coat from the desk. It was long and black, and fit well with the costume. When he slipped it on and hung the sword inside, he reminded her of the
Highlander
. She was living the fantasy of one of the episodes, where the immortal Duncan MacLeod protects his lady love, knowing that someday he will have to go on without her as she ages and he does not. She sure missed that show, but she regularly watched the DVDs.

She blinked and brought herself back to reality. Or this alternate reality, as it were. She would not need her television shows anymore, at least not in the addictive way she had. They would pale in comparison to what she had experienced here.

He tucked both the handcuffs and the recorder into the pockets of his coat. “I want you to keep your cell phone with you.”

She patted the fabric at her waist. “It’s already clipped to my waistband. I’ll put the pepper spray on the other side.” He handed her the canister, and she clipped it on. “The knife I’ll wear on my ankle.” She used a knit headband to secure it.

 
He held out his hand, and she slid her fingers between his. “Are you ready, my queen?”

“Yes, my lord.”

He helped her into her coat. “From here on, we are only Atir and Alta. There’s no turning back.”

She shook her head. “There was no turning back the day I arrived…in Xanadu,” she added.

The lobby was crowded, the bar off to the side jammed with people. For a moment, she felt odd. There were only a few people dressed in costume, and when a man let out a low whistle, she felt distinctly out of place. Then she remembered that Atir didn’t care what people thought, did not have to live up to anyone’s expectations. She smiled at the man, hitched her shoulders, and walked out beside Christopher.

She once again felt right in place. Well, in an out-of-this-world way. He walked just behind her, and whenever she paused to stare, he ended up bumping into her. She wasn’t so distracted that she didn’t enjoy that hard body, though.

“This place is…wild,” she whispered, gawking at a midget wearing a thong and a sheer pink cape.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet. You’re not the only queen in this part of town today.”

Three transvestites swayed with more sensuality than Rita had, and she’d been born a woman! A group of four people had set up a band on a corner, and the woman wore a cardboard box over her torso. For any passing male, including Christopher, she opened the doors on the box and gave him a peek. Not that he needed it. In the block they’d traversed, Rita had seen four women baring their breasts for beads.

Even in their fantasy garb, she and Christopher barely rated more than a glance. No wonder strange people migrated here. You could be anything you wanted.

They turned a corner and headed north. He tucked her arm beneath his, all the while keeping an eye out for suspicious characters. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for occasionally becoming distracted by an outrageous costume or a spectacular chest.
 

A man up ahead was wearing chaps. As they neared him, he turned sideways. His butt was as bare as a baby’s bottom.

“Er, excuse me sir, but you seem to have forgotten something,” she pretended to say to him as they passed. She reveled in Christopher’s laughter.

“I forgot how crazy it is,” he said.

For a few minutes, she could forget what waited ahead and get distracted by the wild life. “Look, it’s Neptune,” she whispered, nodding toward a man wearing a shell over his “jewels” and a fishing net draped over his shoulders. And not a stitch more. He had to be in his fifties, and the sunny air was not much warmer than that. She met Christopher’s gaze, and they shared another laugh. Despite the fact that he had been acting earlier, she knew he had the capacity to feel. Making him realize it was a whole other matter.

A young, good-looking man wearing one of those chap-bare-butt things eyed Neptune’s butt and said, “Oh, I gotta grab that.”

Christopher leaned closer. “Don’t be surprised if your own little tushie doesn’t get grabbed.”

When she realized he wasn’t kidding, she moved in front of him again.

“Always thinking of yourself,” he muttered goodheartedly. “I’m in more danger of getting grabbed than you are.”

She looked back at him. “Better your tushie than mine, your majesty.”

He gently pinched her cheek, and her heart swelled. How could a man be so wrong and so right at once?

Three men dressed as nuns and carrying cups of beer went running by as Rita and Christopher neared the parking lot. Within a few minutes, they were out of the harmless zaniness and on their way to Xanadu. This area of town was empty compared to what they’d just left. Their mood darkened as they pulled up to the warehouse. They had arrived early, and so far no one else appeared to be present. He parked off to the side of the building.

“I’m going to leave the car unlocked with the key under the mat, just in case. If anything happens, run out here and get help.”

“All right,” she said, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. She knew what he was doing; he wanted her out of the warehouse at the first sign of trouble.

“It’s cold in here,” she said when they walked inside. “I don’t suppose there’s any heat.”

“I doubt it. But I imagine it’s going to heat up real fast in here.”
 

He walked up behind her, put his arms around her, and pulled her close for a few minutes. The hum of fear going through her veins disappeared, and she closed her eyes and sank into him.

“Better?” he asked, breaking the spell. “Don’t want my queen to be cold.”

She rolled her eyes, finding it so hard to convince herself he was only acting. Or was he? “Mm, thanks.”
 

“The only player we can trust is Vitar, but cautiously. I tracked him down to an address in Texas.”

“White face, vertical brown stripe,” she recited.

He lifted her chin, and she hoped for another stage kiss. “Atir, I want you to be very careful. Stay close to me.”

“Yes, your majesty.” She could see he did care about her, and that he was worried. “A kiss for good luck?”

He leaned down to grant her request, but before their lips met, the door creaked behind them.

“Alta, it is good to see you again. I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”

The game was on.
 

CHAPTER 26

A man dressed in shimmering blue robes approached Christopher and clasped his hands. “It is good to see that you are all right, your majesty. We have been worried for you.”