Page 77 of Spooked

Was that why she’d run? Because Carissa had threatened to reveal all in revenge? Fuck, it was his fault—he’d been the one to tell Carissa the truth, that Meera had refused to sleep with him.

It hurt, knowing that Meera had come into his life under false pretences, but their feelings were real; he was certain of that. He loved her, and in the note, she said she loved him. They could still make this work. If she’d just talk to him instead of running, they could make it work.

He needed to find her.

In his dressing room, he threw on the first clothes to hand—jeans, a T-shirt, tennis shoes without socks. Where had he left the car key? Think, dammit,think. Traffic was awful, as usual, but she’d have gotten stuck in it too. Brax knew where her apartment was. He’d even driven past it a couple of times, trying to work up the courage to tell her how he felt. He’d also strongly considered renting her a better place and telling her it was a perk of the job, because her neighbourhood was rough, but that would have meant tossing gasoline on the divorce bonfire.

On the way, he tried calling her again, but she still didn’t pick up. And she complained thathiscommunication skills were poor? Sheesh. Finally, he made it to her street, but there was nowhere to park. A cab had taken the last spot outside her building. Would it leave soon? The driver was still inside.

Then he saw her.

Meera was hefting a suitcase down the front steps, her hair blowing in the wind as she headed for the cab. No way. She wasn’t getting into it. Brax wasn’t going to chase her all over LA. He abandoned the Porsche in the street, ignoring the cacophony of horns and the angry shouts of other drivers as he ran toward her.

“Meera, stop!”

She froze, and when he got closer, he saw the dirty tracks on her cheeks. She’d been crying.

“Just wait.”

“I…I can’t.”

“We need to talk about this.”

She shook her head, and another tear fell. “I have to get to the airport.”

The airport? Where was she flying to? “You’re just leaving? You said you loved me—doesn’t that count for anything?”

“I wish it could, but…but it’s complicated.”

“I know you’re working for Carissa.”

Instead of that being the “gotcha” Brax had hoped for, Meera merely looked puzzled.

“Carissa? What?”

“She sent you to seduce me, but it’s okay. I forgive you.”

“No… No, she didn’t.”

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.

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