Page 77 of Hard Limits

Meera wasn’t lying, not about that anyway. So what was the big secret? What didn’t she want to tell him? As if the morning weren’t bad enough already, people on the street began yelling.

“Move your fucking car, asshole.”

“You’re blocking the damn road.”

A woman took Brax’s side. “Shaddup, this is like a movie. Are you filming a movie?”

“Meera, please, just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have to catch my flight.”

He took a deep breath. “Then I’ll drive you to LAX myself.”

“I—”

“What’s the problem? You said you need to go to the airport? I’ll take you to the airport.” Thank fuck Brax had picked up his wallet before he left. He extracted a hundred-dollar bill and held it out to the cab driver. “Your services are no longer required.”

The guy snatched the cash out of his hand, no doubt relieved to be free of the traffic jam and the drama. Now Meera didn’t have a choice. She’d have to ride with Brax or risk being late. Just in case she needed any further help in making up her mind, he hefted the suitcase into the Porsche’s trunk, slammed the lid, and opened the passenger door. Meera climbed inside. Stiffly, but she got in. Several stuck drivers cheered, but Brax had little to be happy about. He pulled away slowly, in no hurry whatsoever. Yes, he’d drive her to the airport as promised, but he’d take his sweet time doing it.

“So, why did you run out on me?”

“I…I don’t know where to start.”

“How about at the beginning?”

“At the beginning…” she echoed. “At the beginning, I…” She paused and took a long breath. Let it out. “I was born Indali Azarin Vadera in Springfield, Massachusetts.”

“Indali? That was your name? When did you change it to Meera?”

“I didn’t. I’m still Indi.”

Indi? But that made no sense. He’d been calling her Meera for months. In the office, in his daydreams, in bed.

“Then why are you calling yourself Meera?”

“My best friend is Meera. I sort of…borrowed her identity. We look almost the same.”

“Why?”

“You said to start at the beginning.” Another pause. “My family still lives in Springfield. My father’s side is wealthy. Not your league of wealthy, but very comfortable financially. My life, though, it wasn’t comfortable. My first mistake was being born female. My second mistake was having an independent streak.” She closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself. “My father, he’s very traditional. A woman’s place is in the home, cooking and cleaning and raising the children, that kind of traditional. My late grandfather was more progressive, and it was thanks to him that I was allowed to go to college, but in my father’s eyes, I was only whiling away time until he found a suitable man for me to marry.”

Fuck.

“Tell me you’re not married?”

“No, I’m not. That’s why I left. Because I didn’t want to marry the man he chose. I wanted my own life, a career that fulfilled me, a husband I married for love rather than out of obligation. I couldn’t have any of that in Massachusetts.”

“That still doesn’t explain how you ended up on my payroll as Meera.”

“Meera was my roommate in college. We shared an apartment for four years, but she had her own family problems. Her folks are quite pushy. It didn’t help that she signed up to study engineering and then switched to environmental science without telling them, or that she wasted a year partying. But she knuckled down from year three, after her father threatened to cut off her allowance.”

“So she’s the environmentalist? What did you study?”

“Oh, I went to medical school. I was meant to start my residency at Johns Hopkins last summer, but I had to quit before I got there.”

Oh, I went to medical school. She was a doctor; she just threw that out so nonchalantly. Guess that explained the Heimlich manoeuvre. His Meera was smarter than he’d ever suspected. No, not Meera. Indi. And was she even his anymore?

“Because your father made you quit? But you’re an adult.”

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