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“I know,” she says on an exhale.
“Let’s do this,” I say, ready to get it over with.
I lean over and give her a kiss. “I like your body just the way it is, which is why I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it looks exactly as it does now when this is over.”
“I’m counting on it.”
The diner's door jingles as we push it open, the smell of grease and coffee wafting out to greet us. I choose a booth at the back where I can observe without being too conspicuous. She takes a table close to the door in case she needs to make an escape. I realize it also gives him a quick escape if he does something to her, but I refuse to believe anything will happen. I won’t let it happen.
We each order coffees, the waitress shooting us a curious look but not saying anything. Clearly, she saw us walk in together and sit separately. The clock on the wall ticks ominously, every second echoing taking us closer to the big showdown. I find my fingers drumming nervously on the table and force myself to stop.
She looks at me from her table, her eyes filled with fear masked by a brave smile. I give her a reassuring nod. She gives me a small, tight smile back before turning to the coffee in front of her, her fingers wrapped around the mug for comfort. I hope this isn’t another setup. I can see the parking lot and have a close eye on my car as well. I don’t think anyone is going to put a bomb in the seat, but just in case.
Chapter 19
Paige
From the moment we walked into the diner, my heart was pounding like a jackrabbit in my chest. We weren’t supposed to look like we were together. I casually looked over at Travis, sitting there so relaxed but alert. His assurance gave me confidence, though I couldn't shake off the feeling of impending doom. I wasn’t afraid. Not really. But it wasn’t just me in jeopardy now. Travis was involved now.
The diner is bustling with activity, but I can't seem to shake the nervous energy coursing through my veins. I glance at my watch for what feels like the hundredth time, my heart pounding in my chest as the minutes tick by with agonizing slowness. He’s twenty minutes late. I glance over at Travis, silently asking him what he thinks I should do. He casually holds up a hand, indicating I should give the man another five minutes.
We wait another thirty minutes. The whistleblower never shows up. It’s clear I’ve been stood up.
After what feels like an eternity, Travis slides into the seat across from me, his expression grim. "You've been set up," he says, his voice low and urgent. "He drew you out, and now he's going to follow us."
“Are you serious?” I ask.
“You were in hiding. They couldn’t get to you. Are you sure it was the whistleblower you were supposed to meet?”
“I think so,” I nod. “I mean, I can’t say for sure, but it’s the same email I’ve been in contact with.”
“Do you know for sure there’s really a whistleblower?” he asked.
“Yes. I mean, I think so. The person went to my boss and requested I be on his case. He only wanted to talk to me in Hawaii.”
“I think there’s something fishy here,” he whispers. “I don’t like this. We need to get out of here.”
My stomach churns with fear, the reality of the situation hitting me like a ton of bricks. This isn't some game or elaborate scheme - it's all too real, and I'm in way over my head. I don’t play spy games. I’ve prepared myself with self-defense classes to handle a mugger…not a potential murderer.
“What do we do?” I ask. I’m relying on him to keep me alive.
"Think about your enemies," he says, his voice cutting through the chaos of my thoughts.
“I don’t have enemies.”
“You’re a lawyer,” he says dryly. “You have enemies.”
I roll my eyes. “My enemies are not murderers. Like I said, I do contracts and mergers, not criminal law."
Silently, Travis holds my gaze across the table. My eyes are drawn to his steady hands. He doesn’t look like he’s panicking. There’s a stillness in him that gives me hope—as if he’s already thought through a plan and knows how to survive this.
“What now?” I ask in a whisper.
“We leave,” he replies, his voice barely audible over the clatter of dishes and the low hum of conversation.
“We need to act normal. Just finish your coffee and meet me outside. I’m going to wait and see if someone tries to take me out.”
“That is not funny,” I snap.
