Page 25 of Cruel Dreams

He blows out a breath and waves off my warning. “I’m not worried about that part of it. Her money doesn’t intimidate me.” He pauses. “I’m falling in love with her, Stella.”

“Without the drugs, she might not be the same person she is now. Maybe she’ll be better, but maybe she’ll be worse. She’s going to live with that trauma for the rest of her life. Have you slept with her?”

He can’t meet my eyes and looks over my shoulder out the window. There’s nothing to see but grey clouds. “I tried to... touch her, and she flipped out.”

“After I escaped, Zane found me and I tried to tell him what happened, but he wouldn’t listen. He believed the pictures and thought I’d run away with Sergio Cardello. He thought we were lovers. We—” I fumble, trying to think of how to describe what we did— “were intimate. He was angry and rough, really rough. He hurt me—”

“I’m not Zane,” he snaps. “I would never hurt Zarah making love to her.”

I lay a hand on his forearm. “I know. I’m just saying, you may be waiting for a long time, and after that wait, you might not like what you find. Like me.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, his shoulders stiff.

I hate warning him. Zarah was a sweet girl, teaching me how to plan parties and taking me shopping, and I’d discovered there was a real woman under the money, worried about who she would be without her family name. Who shecouldbe without her family name. Once Zarah is off those drugs, maybe she’ll still be that sweet girl and Max can help her figure out who she wants to be and what she wants out of her future. I don’t know.

Max and I don’t talk for the rest of the flight. I give in to my curiosity and gaze out the little window at the white, puffy clouds. We flew out of the bad weather and whatever state we’re flying over now is enjoying a sunny day.

We land without incident, the wheels hitting the runway, jolting me just enough my heart leaps into my throat. The plane taxis to an empty jetway, and we wait another twenty minutes for the flight attendant to open the plane’s door. Passengers fidget and clog the aisle, anxious to catch a connecting flight or reach their destination. Max and I don’t stand until the aisle clears and we have room to leave our seats.

The temperature is hot and the air feels wet. Even our most humid days in Minnesota feel nothing like this, and my dress sticks to my skin the minute I deplane.

Our suitcases bump in front of us on the luggage carousel, and Max easily grabs their handles. I keep glancing over my shoulder expecting to catch someone following us, and he notices and elbows me. “Stop it. No one but my editor and the team knows we’re here. Act natural.”

“I’ll try,” I say, though his words don’t reassure me.

There’s a long line of taxis waiting for passengers who need a ride, and Max chooses one. He texts Mel we landed safely and that we’re on the way to the hotel.

Zane messages me a second later.I miss you. Be careful.

I send him anI miss you tooand a red heart in response and slip my phone into my purse.

Using her own credit card to make our reservations, Mel booked us rooms at the hotel in the L’Enfant Plaza, and we won’t have to walk far to reach the NTSB offices. We don’t have an appointment, and tomorrow morning Max will call and ask if there’s someone available we can talk to. In the meantime, he elects room service in his room alone leaving me to do whatever I want. It isn’t smart to wander the city by myself, though there is a lot to do within walking distance. It’s tempting to explore the grounds and get some air, or even look around the hotel, but I feel safer in my room.

I lie on the bed, lonely, a weight pulling me down. I feel like I betrayed Zarah, and maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. She’s going to need lots of people around her in the coming months, and I shouldn’t be pushing anyone away who wants to help her.

It still stings how out of place I felt while I dated Zane. I was a payroll clerk, he was the CEO. I was two paychecks away from food stamps, he was a billionaire. Max is down to earth, fightsfor human rights, for change. He’s a pioneer, and Zarah parties. Well, she used to.

Who am I now? I’m no closer to knowing than Zarah is.

In the end, I order room service too, and stay inside. I’m too scared to go anywhere alone, and I don’t want to get lost and not find my way back.

I’ve been trying to find my way all my life.

I’m tired of failing.

I toss and turn all night, and the next morning, I have to drag my butt out of bed. I didn’t sleep well—I’m used to Quinn’s steady breathing or Zane’s strong arms wrapped around me. I shower, but the cool water doesn’t wake me up. Feeling like I’m sleepwalking, I dry my hair using the hairdryer attached to the wall next to the vanity and apply my makeup, dabbing a little extra concealer under my eyes. Max knocks on my door just as I’m finishing and I let him in. He hands me a disposal cup of coffee, and I sip, needing the caffeine. I’m grateful the resentment our talk on the plane caused is gone. His eyes are bright, and he’s dressed in his standard khaki pants, dress shirt, and vest. The layers look hot, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“We have an appointment at eleven. I’m hoping we can find out what we need to know and catch a late flight back to KC tonight.”

“What’s the rush? Zarah?” I ask, but I’m not disappointed he wants to cut our trip short. I feel exposed outside of King’s Crossing, though, realistically, I may be safer outside the city than I am in it. I appreciate Mel’s thoughtfulness, but I don’t think I was ready for a trip like this. If Zane was with us I could have drawn from his strength, but he can’t leave Nathalie.After seeing his reaction to me flying, I realize he couldn’t have boarded a plane anyway, and no matter how scared I am, I need to be a part of our plan in every way I can be.

“A little. I miss her like crazy.”

I smile in empathy. I miss Zane too, but it’ll be good to leave a day early, no matter the reason. If we find out what we think we’re going to find out, Zane and Mel will need to know as quickly as possible, and I don’t want to tell him anything over the phone, even if it’s good news. There’s still a chance what we find out today will be bad, really bad. What I suspect hasn’t been proven true. Clayton included Lark in that email, but I choose to believe she’s innocent when she could be anything but.

We stop to eat a light breakfast in the dining room (he chooses scrambled eggs and bacon and I order French toast) but we’re both too nervous to eat, and it’s not long after the server sets our plates down that Max is paying our bill.

The layout’s confusing, and he asks directions to the building that houses the NTSB offices. We walk past several security guards, but no one gives us a second glance. The building has a governmental feel, as it should, but it brings back my days of having to sit at social services waiting to speak to my social worker. I hated days like that. Listening to her tell me my foster parents didn’t want me anymore, or things changed, or promises were broken.

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