Right now, she could only proceed to her car. Mia walked to the Focus and got in, trying to look unconcerned. The drive gave her time to think.
If she hadn’t been so startled to see him, she might’ve played this differently. Clearly, he hadn’t expected her to recognize him, which was odd, given that he looked the same. He hadn’t even changed the cut of his hair, so his surprise made no sense. It hadn’t been long enough for her to forget either.
Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. She remembered everything all too clearly, and that was part of the problem.
She recalled sitting with him in that diner, listening to his reassurances that he’d make sure no harm came to Kyra. She recalled her fear when she realized someone was tailing her. So she’d come to him, expecting him to protect her.
Instead, he gave her to his boss and used her as bait. Twenty-four hours in a dark house with nothing but tepid tap water. Her shoulders ached with remembered agony. If Kyra and Reyes hadn’t come for her, there was no telling what might have happened.
She hated feeling powerless; she hated feeling stupid. That day, she had nearly choked on both sensations. Foster was responsible for the worst thing that had ever happened to her, and she wanted him to suffer for it. Maybe it wasn’t prudent, but she’d dig up the dirt on him, as well as locate the embezzler; she’d always been better than average at multitasking.
Those dark thoughts occupied her until she reached the turnoff to her borrowed condo. She parked in her assigned space and went in through the front door. “Hi, Peaches, I’m home.”
It was a bit unusual to have something waiting for her, even if it was someone else’s pet. The cat had apparently decided she was better than nothing because it twined around her ankles, leaving ginger fur on her pristine black slacks. Mia leaned down and gave it a tentative scratch; the animal rewarded her with a motorboat of a purr.
“What do you think?” she asked it. “Can we make this work?”
It led the way into the kitchen, where she refilled its food dish. Mia took that as an affirmative, as long as she remembered her place. She wandered through the condo, examining bits of the Caldwells’ lives. Generally she stayed in furnished units, devoid of any personal touches, so she wasn’t used to framed photographs and mementos of a full life surrounding her.
They’d even left the food in their cupboards for her to use. Mia rummaged and came up with a can of soup. Any other night, she’d have ordered in, but she felt oddly off center. There were no menus in a drawer by the phone. This was somebody’s home. It was weird, but she felt like something was wrong and she couldn’t put her finger on what.
Banishing the slight melancholy the word roused in her, she ate her food at the tiny kitchen table and then went to the bedroom to change. She was staying in the guest room, less personal than the master bedroom. A shower made her feel a little better, and by the time she changed into her pajamas, she’d shrugged off the odd mood.
Mia gathered her notes from the day’s work and went over them in front of the TV. For obvious reasons, she didn’t use her laptop to log her findings. That information could be accessed remotely, so she used a notepad. Low-tech, yes, but after factoring in her personal shorthand, it meant nobody but her would be reading what she wrote down.
Thus far, there wasn’t much to see, just a list of people who worked in Accounting. Mia wasn’t convinced the guilty party even worked there; it just made sense to try to lay the blame there, as those employees had access to certain accounts. That meant she had a lot of ground to cover and only eighty-nine days in which to do so.
Time wasn’t usually a factor. Under normal circumstances, she came in as a contractor. Pretending to be a regular new hire at this company brought its share of limitations because she couldn’t move as freely.
For example, she’d undergone orientation today with a pregnant HR rep, so she’d lost several hours. It wasn’t like she could say, Sorry, I won’t be here long enough for your policies to matter. She couldn’t afford to draw attention to herself.
To further complicate matters, her boss in IT also seemed to think she was bucking for his job, another unwanted complication. They’d made her résumé a bit too impressive, and now he worried that once she was trained, he’d be let go. Based on what she’d seen of his work in just one day, if she were really who they said, then he’d have reason to fear. As it stood, Greg Evans was just an annoyance she didn’t need.
She needed to find some way to reassure him or he’d make her life difficult. Maybe I can appeal to him as a fellow slacker… show him appearances can be deceiving. Once I’ve established a rapport with him, he’ll be more likely to respond to my questions. Mia knew well enough that if she handled him skillfully, he’d tell her damn near everything she wanted to know without even realizing he’d been pumped for information.
The cat butted her hand, and she stroked him reflexively. “I guess we’d better get used to each other, huh? Do you snore?”
Peaches stared at her out of supercilious green eyes that said, So what if I do?
Mia had to smile at that. She put aside her notes and started her nightly before-bed ritual, which included skin care and ended in a cup of apple cinnamon tea. At this hour, she should have been asleep, but Kyra had promised to call, and she’d never let Mia down. Not once. In her darkest hour, Kyra had shown up to make things right.
As if in answer to her thoughts, the phone rang. No number came up, but she knew who it was. When she answered, she could hear a party in the background, raucous music underscored with bongo drums.
“Kyra?” She pitched her voice loud in the quiet condo.
“The one and only. How are you?”
“Good. Just started a new job. You?”
“Great.” Kyra sounded like she meant it in ways Mia could only guess at.
She experienced a pang that she refused to call jealousy. After everything Kyra had gone through in the last two years, she deserved to be happy. “Where are you?”
“Bali, I think.” Her voice became indistinct, as if she’d turned away to ask someone. A gravelly rumble came in answer, nearly close enough for Mia to make out the words.
She imagined the man nuzzling Kyra’s neck, whispering at her to get off the phone already, so they could drink or dance or do whatever they did on a beach with music pounding like waves on the shore.
“Yes,” Kyra said at length. “Bali. You?”
“Virginia. I’ll let you go. It’s late here. I can’t imagine what time it is there.”
“Afternoon. It’s soooo gorgeous. You can’t imagine-” Kyra broke off with a husky laugh.
No, Mia couldn’t. Her life suddenly seemed colorless. She didn’t want to envy her friend because she had the life Mia had wanted, one with structure and rules and tangible signs of success. Nobody would ever ask her to sail off into the sunset.
“We’re heading for Singapore next. I’ll call you this time next month. Love you.”
“You, too,” Mia said, but Kyra had already disconnected. Mia had exactly what she wanted. It had taken years to achieve. So why wasn’t she happier about it?
Strong’s day did not begin well.
Because he’d been up late, pondering the problem Mia Sauter presented, he overslept. That meant hurrying his morning routine, and he hated when things didn’t go according to plan. There was a reason his schemes always succeeded: his relentless ability to make circumstances fit his expectations. He’d been doing it for years.
So cold coffee and burned toast pissed him off. They seemed symptomatic of Mia’s overall effect on his life. She shouldn’t be here.
But since she was, he could make use of her. It might even be for the best.
By refusing himself in Vegas, he’d enjoyed a rare sense of human decency. Clearly that was alien-and definitely not his style-so he might as well enjoy her now, since the universe had dumped her in his lap a second time. He didn’t like using his ability this way, but once he touched her, she’d forget all about that petty vendetta against him.