Page 46 of Hard Limits

CHAPTER 18

BRAX

As if Brax’s life wasn’t complicated enough right now…

Preliminary indications were that one of the clothes dryers had malfunctioned, and a pile of bedsheets had caught fire. Although the sprinkler system did its job, an overzealous passer-by had called the fire department when they saw smoke, and the fire crew had wanted to be absolutely certain the blaze was extinguished. The laundry room was out of commission, the kitchen had smoke damage, and just for good measure, water had gone through the floor and damaged some of the rooms downstairs.

And that wasn’t even the worst part of Brax’s day.

No, that had come when he turned to see Meera watching Roxanne and Michael, her expression a mix of shock and horror.

He needed to speak with her about it, to make sure she understood that they were only doing their jobs, that everything was consensual, but she was steadfastly refusing to look at him as she studied the airline website. And when he moved closer, she flinched.

Fuck.

“What are you doing?”

“Booking flights, as you asked.”

“Why is one ticket business class and the other economy? Are they short of seats?”

“I just thought—”

Hell, she really did have a low opinion of herself, didn’t she?

“Book two seats in business, Meera.”

“Okay.” She swallowed and clicked with the mouse. “There are only two left, and they’re next to each other. Is that all right?”

No. “Yes.”

At least if there were no more seats, Carissa couldn’t have a spy hop onto the plane alongside them, but spending six hours sitting next to Meera promised to be torture.

“The car will be here in twenty minutes.”

“Good. Pack our laptops, and don’t forget the chargers. I need to brief the staff here before we leave.”

Meera was already in the limo when Brax jogged out of the front door five minutes late. She’d carefully placed a backpack, her purse, and both laptop bags on the back seat between them, and his heart sank. The Dark thing had really upset her, hadn’t it?

“You have everything?” he asked.

A nod.

He had to do it. He had to roll up the privacy screen and talk to her. If the driver was one of Carissa’s spies, Brax was fucked, but the risk was worth taking, the odds low. When his previous driver had retired, instead of hiring a replacement, he’d contracted with a service Dawson had recommended that would provide security-trained drivers “as required.” There was no guarantee they’d send the same person each time, and that suited Brax just fine.

Meera didn’t say a word as the screen closed.

And for once in his life, Brax didn’t know where to start.

The silence stretched out, an uncomfortable, tangible thing that wrapped its fingers around his throat and squeezed. Kind of like Roxanne had done to Michael earlier, but minus the leather and other accessories.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered finally.

He’d noticed that she apologised a lot. It was almost a default setting. What had happened in her past to make her that way?

“What are you sorry for, Meera?”

“That I went into the basement. That I saw…that.”

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