Page 67 of The Witness

Kira, Quinn, and Sydney were all the same, and I worked with them every day, so… yeah, no big deal. I’d figure this out. Barring that, I could ask Smith, my badass boss, or better yet, Leck, the self-made billionaire, for advice on being with a woman liketheir wives. The thought made me feel inadequate on a visceral level.

“Knock! Knock!” Simon called, jerking the plywood door open for his install team.

“Welcome to my mess.” Sabrina tried to sound cheerful, but there was a brittle quality to her forced laughter that grated on my ear. She was damn good at putting on a brave face, but the stress was getting to her.

I opened a water bottle and gave it to Sabrina. “Here. Take a break. I can show Simon and the team the electrical panel and the rest of the space.”

She protested but relented when one of Simon’s guys toed a turned-over bucket toward her as a makeshift chair. She sat with a sigh, bending forward and bracing her elbows on her knees, rubbing her temples.

I hated walking away from her but knew she’d never take a break with all of us standing around, so I ushered everyone out of the bar area and back to where they would get started.

As we walked, I filled them in on the power situation and Simon said he’d already had a plan for a battery-operated system until Florida Power and Light restored the electricity that the fire department had ordered turned off.

“So how’s she doing?” Simon asked.

He and I stood in the back alley. We were deciding where to put the camera and alarm sensors on the exterior of the building.

“She is the most organized, determined, capable woman I’ve ever met.” I shook my head in astonishment.

“You have worked with Quinn for a decade. Are you sure you want to make that statement?”

“Yes. No. Fuck.” I wanted to rip my hair out, but it was so short now I couldn’t grab enough to get the leverage.

“So you’re sleeping with her and a little scared of her. Welcome to my life.” He snort laughed.

Simon was a nerd, and we’d all joked with him about his awkward way with women. I wasn’t loving that when he finally got even for our teasing, it was at my expense.

“Scared of her and for her. I want her to let me help.”

“You ever been with a single mom?”

“Yeah.”

“No, not the sad, helpless ones you go out with. The ones like my mom—battle-hardened. She raised three boys in Overtown alone. This was back when Overtown was Miami’s own war zone. She took no shit from us or the gangbangers that ran our neighborhood. I remember my mom chasing off some asshole that was trying to recruit my older brother to the gang with nothing but an old metal baseball bat. The guy had a gun and Mom only had her attitude. Afterward, she smacked my brother upside the head, made us dinner, and finished the laundry. That night when she thought we were all asleep, I saw her on the couch crying into a glass of cheap wine.” He shrugged and attached a new battery to his electric drill, getting ready to mount the camera.

“What did you do?” I knew Simon came from the rough part of the city and had paid for school with a stint in the army and academic scholarships. I also knew he and his brothers had recently sent her on an all-expenses-paid cruise to Alaska.

“Made sure I was never the reason she cried.” He shrugged, like his answer was obvious. “That’s the thing with a woman like my mom or Quinn, or Sabrina. You add value, or you get the fuck out of their way.”

Chapter 30

Sabrina

“Oh yes, right there, don’t stop.” Michael’s hands were magic. I dropped my chin toward my chest to give him better access to the tight muscles in my neck.

“Deep breath in, slowly out. This knot’s a big one.” His thumb dug into a sore spot on my right shoulder that made my toes curl in both ecstasy and anguish.

“Damn.” I groaned the word in a long slow gasp. My eyes rolled up and the view of my living room went out of focus as I concentrated on releasing the built-up tension. It had been a long, shitty day.

“That feels better.” He smoothed his thumb over the spot a few more times. He’d offered the massage after watching me try to stretch out my shoulders on my own. We’d just finished gorging on the takeout we’d picked up from my favorite greasy Chinesefood place. We’d both been exhausted and starving after the first day of clean-up at Viande.

I rolled my neck and shoulders, checking in with my abused body. Better, but not one hundred percent.

“I’m in decent shape. I work on my feet all the time. This is ridiculous.”

“Midlife is a bitch. All kinds of body parts start to give out. Plus, that push broom is a far cry from a chef’s knife.” With a groan, he eased down onto the couch next to me.

“It’s not only the broom.” I sighed and picked my beer up off the table littered with takeout boxes.

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