Page 48 of Hard Limits

CHAPTER 19

THE ASSISTANT

Although Meera was a year younger than me, and I used to wear my hair much longer, we looked so similar that people at college had called us twins. Even we had gotten suspicious, but a DNA test revealed the truth. We weren’t related, not even distantly; we were just doppelgangers. Think I’m joking? One day when I wore my hair in a bun, Meera’s ex-boyfriend had snuck up and kissed me full on the mouth before he realised his mistake. The kiss was followed by red faces, a thousand apologies, and a promise never to speak of the incident again. And we didn’t. Meera and I borrowed each other’s clothes, laughed off the “seeing double” comments, and became the best of friends.

Plus there was the cross-race effect. I’d studied it briefly during psych classes. It had been scientifically proven that people recognised faces within their own racial group more easily. People of one ethnicity found it harder to notice subtle variations in skin tone, in lip size, in brow strength when it came to those with a different heritage, as well as being slower to recognise and interpret emotions. The phenomenon was also linked to implicit racial bias.

And I intended to use it to my advantage.

When we got to the airport, I made sure I picked a security line staffed by white people, and as predicted, they glanced at me, glanced at Meera’s US driver’s licence, made me remove half of my clothing and poked suspiciously through my carry-on, then waved me past.

To where Mr. Vale was waiting.

He was a gentleman, he said.

He was a liar.

My new boss was a wolf in a French-blue made-to-measure suit.

And I was Little Red Riding Hood, just waiting to be eaten.

But at least it would be a pleasurable death.

His hand touched mine as he took my bag without asking, and I felt the same rush of warmth I’d experienced in the car. He, of course, was totally unaffected. In return, he passed me his black Amex card.

“You have forty minutes to shop. I need to make some calls.”

“What do you want me to purchase?”

“You’re not shopping for me, Meera. You’re shopping for yourself.”

He strode off before I could ask for clarification on what exactly he expected me to buy. Toiletries? A snack? He’d told me not to worry about packing, but I’d left my “running away” bag in my trunk last night, so I had most of what I needed. But I could do with an extra bottle of shampoo, and we’d both skipped breakfast. I found a drugstore, then picked up bottled water and pastries in case we got delayed at the gate. Still fifteen minutes left, and I had no idea where Mr. Vale had gone, so I settled in to window-shop the row of boutiques. Once, I’d have been inside, buying those sparkly Louboutins or the gorgeous red Valentino purse with the gold studs, but now I was reduced to browsing. And in truth, I preferred it this way. All the designer accessories in the world couldn’t have made me happy in Massachusetts. In LA, I was still constantly on edge, waiting for my new life to fall apart, but at least I wasn’t so miserable anymore.

“You have five minutes left.”

I jumped out of my skin.

“You did that on purpose.”

Mr. Vale was unrepentant. “Did what?”

“Crept up behind me.”

His playful grin made me smile too. Who knew he had a sense of humour? His expression quickly grew serious again, but I knew what I’d seen.

“Purse shopping?” he asked.

“Oh, no. Just looking.”

“You like the red one?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Buy it.”

“No, no, it’s far too expensive. And I already have a purse, see?”

“Are you disobeying a direct order, Miss Adams?”

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