Page 100 of Perfect Order
I think back to when I recruitedQ?zaat MIT, long after Sam and I settled down from our adventures. I recall the way she stood up to me—intimidation not even in her vocabulary. “Yes. I do.”
“Then, should I tell him?” Sam asks.
“No.”
“Why the hell not?” he demands.
“Because if she loves him the way I think she does, he’s her vulnerability. She’ll do anything to protect him. It may be our only way to protect her.”
Sam’s silent for a long while before declaring, “You’re an asshole,” before he slams down the phone.
After I know the line’s disconnected, I say aloud, “I know. But I’m an ass who’s trying to keep everyone alive.”
OCTOBER
Kane
Washington, D.C.Messenia challenges recent cloud computing contract issued to Argo Industries for $2 billion. Messenia has filed a protest with the Government Accountability Office against the Department of Defense, challenging the recent award of a cloud computing contract to a competitor.
—InfoSec Gov News
It’s been three months.
She ran away from me in tears.
Now, mine are threatening to overflow.
There’s no way around it. She’s gone.
The first night I came here, my duffle was outside. I pounded on her door, and there was no answer. Nothing.
I’ve tried to call, no answer. I stop by every day, knocking, pleading. It’s eerily quiet inside.
I snapped when she was trying to explain what happened. She explained how things worked, and yet I cast blame. Her fault? I wish someone loved me the way she loves Kylie. But there’s been no chance to explain. I’ve been trying to reach her to remind her I love her, to beg, to get on my knees. To let Leanne know everything’s been fixed. To tell her I’m so damn sorry.
Beckett and Paige are okay. But I can’t reach her. When I try on the phone, it goes directly to voicemail. And as of today, that voicemail is full. I’m certain her doorman is sick of seeing me day in and day out. And when I check, Carys hasn’t heard from her. Neither, she said worriedly, has Kris.
Today, the something that had a lockdown on my emotions shook loose inside me. I’d slid my hand inside my suit pants and found the letter Leanne had written before we went to Los Angeles. When I read it again, her words jumped off the pages and slapped at me—like she should have done that day when I was spouting off nonsense in her face.
My determination to shield someone who’s become more than just a protectee caused me to break the single promise I made to Leanne—trust beyond trust. I didn’t even give her a chance to speak; I just went on the offensive—selectively choosing not to protect someone as a pawn in her own game. I should have known better. I knew her mind long before she came into my life as Leanne Miles. And throughout the gamut of emotions, I fell in love with her.
What did I show her except I’m a complete ass?
Now, I’m standing beneath her balcony. I see there’s nothing out there. It’s as if neither she nor her sister ever lived there. There’s no Adirondack chair, no colorful curtains fluttering in the breeze. All the plants that lined the balustrade are missing. It’s as if she never existed—just like those years in between when we first crashed and we reunited. “Damn you!” I shout it at the wind but targeted at the one person who deserves it most. Myself.
A hand grips my arm. I whirl around to snarl at the offending touch. Mitch drops his hand. “Come on, man. We have a meeting.”
I shake my head as I stare upward toward where Kylie Miles’s condo is located. Leanne’s supposed to be there, but she’s hightailed it. How could things have gone so wrong? Days before everything went to hell, I laid in bed with her, “I told her I loved her.” My voice cracks. And then I refused to listen as she stood before me pleading with me to listen. My mind just associated the scene like a fucked up flashback. I wasn't myself. I stood in front of Leanne trying to negotiate like I tried to get Gene to listen before I ended his life before he had the chance to end mine.
Crash.
I feel my heart tumble and shatter at my feet. But really, how many people let her heart break and she had to piece it back together alone? It takes several swallows, but I choke out, “I’ll be able to fix things. Right?”
Mitch winces but doesn’t say anything. He just tugs my arm to pull me out of the crowd to the vehicle waiting to take us back to the penthouse.
Blindly, I follow him, uncertain of what to do next or what other nightmares may be waiting just out of reach until I close my eyes.
Unknown: Take care of the duplicate.
