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“Better get going, the sun’s starting to set.”
She shakes her head and goes to the door, and I grin, glad to know I have that effect on her. Going to the small dresser, I pull out a pair of jeans and a white tee.
* * *
Lara
“I’m going to ask him how he could let me be hurt, how he could let Molly be hurt.” I pace Roland’s hotel room with my sleeping daughter in my arms. “I want him to answer for what he’s done.”
“I’ve already given you all the answers you need.” Roland sits on the edge of the hotel bed with his arms crossed watching me.
“Yes, but you’re not him. You can’t answer for him.”
His lips press into a thin line. “Molly has influenced you in the wrong way. She’s got you envisioning justice you’re never going to get.”
That makes me frown. “So you’re saying he wins?”
“Wins?” Roland’s eyes flash. “Wins what? This isn’t a game, Lara. This is underworld shit, and the answer is yes. Yes. In the world of drugs, prostitution, smuggling, gambling, murder, the biggest thug always wins, and he doesn’t have to explain himself.”
“Maybe not, but if no one ever stands up to him and says ‘This is wrong, you’re hurting pe
ople’… If no one ever makes him acknowledge that simple fact, then he never stops.”
“You think you’re going to stop him?”
“I don’t know.” Jillian starts to fuss and squirm on my chest, and I know my agitation is upsetting her.
“Give her to me,” he says, lifting her out of my arms.
He puts her on his shoulder, gently rocking until she settles down again.
“You’re really good with her,” I confess.
“Is Mark going with you? I don’t want you doing this alone.”
“Yes. I wouldn’t do anything stupid now that I have her.” I put my hand on Jillian’s back and rub it up and down.
“Everything you and Molly have done for the past six years has been stupid, but at least Mark is here now. Maybe he can stop you before it’s too late.”
My lips tighten, but I don’t tell him my plans yet. I’ll get this night behind me, then I’ll tell him I’m done. “Thanks for watching her.”
I lean forward and hug him.
“Let me know when you get back.”
Mark is fully dressed in dark jeans, a blue dress shirt, and a black leather jacket when I return to the room. He looks amazing, but I don’t have time to think about it. I go to the bathroom and dust powder on my nose, apply some mascara, smooth on some lipstick.
My fingers tremble as I work, and my stomach is tight. All the insecurity and self-doubt are hitting me at once, but I brave through it. We’re right at the end, I remind myself.
“Here.” Mark stops me at the door, lifting my hand. “I’ll attach this inside your sleeve. Try to hold your arm between your bodies to cut down on the background noise.”
The sleeves of my sweater hang long over the tops of my hands, and he fastens the tiny device next to the inside of my wrist. I’m wearing a black bodysuit underneath the open-knit sweater and a short black skirt over opaque tights and boots. I look like a club kid. All I need is neon hair.
“How do I do that without being suspicious?” I hold my arm down as I inspect my sleeve for any signs of the bug. It’s invisible.
“Get a drink. Hold it in front of you, chest height.” He demonstrates with a bottle of water.
It sounds easy enough. I grab my bag, and we’re out the door headed to Montage. We walk quickly up the sidewalk holding hands. I’m comforted to have him with me, but my insides are shaky. I can’t stop second-guessing myself.
