by I. T. Lucas
“I’m glad you’ve relaxed enough to joke about it. You sounded frightened over the phone.”
“I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why I freaked out. After I called you, the guy didn’t follow me. I was watching the street through the window the entire time.”
“What did he look like?”
“Average height and build. He wore jeans, faded but not ripped, a brown T-shirt, a blue baseball cap that didn’t have anything written on it, and aviator sunglasses. And he had white converse high tops on.” She closed her eyes. “His hair was closely trimmed, and he was clean shaven.”
“I’m impressed. You remembered a lot of details. Did he carry anything with him? Like a shopping bag or a backpack?”
Mey shook her head. “Just a phone. He was leaning against a lamppost and pretending to read on it, or really reading. He might have been just someone walking in the same direction as me, and I jumped to conclusions.”
He reached across the table and took her hand. It was a little clammy, belying her dismissive statements.
“I’ll tell you what. We will order dinner, and after we are done, we will go for a walk. If he is still following you, I will know.”
Her brows rose. “How?”
He smiled and tapped his temple. “Sixth sense.”
“Really? You believe in that?”
“Of course. Always trust your intuition. It’s not some mystical mumbo jumbo. Your subconscious is constantly collecting information that your conscious self ignores. We can’t process all the input that is coming our way, and most of it is stored as raw data. The gut feeling you get, or intuition, or sixth sense, that’s your subconscious processing some of it and sending it to you as a nonverbal warning.”
All of what he’d told her was true, but Yamanu had a few extra tricks up his proverbial sleeve that he couldn’t reveal. He wasn’t as strong an empath as Arwel, but he could sense nefarious intentions if the perpetrator was close enough.
“That’s fascinating. Did you study psychology?”
He flashed her a grin. “I’ve studied many things, but none of them officially. I’m a self-taught kind of guy.”
“That’s awesome.”
The waiter came over. “What can I get you folks?”
“I’ll have the Caesar salad, please,” Mey said.
Yamanu cast her a questioning glance. “That’s all you're going to eat at a steakhouse?”
“I had a huge cappuccino and a chocolate croissant before I came here. I’m not hungry.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Bring me your largest steak with a side of mashed potatoes and a smaller one for the lady.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t want a steak.”
“If you are full after the salad you can take just a couple of bites of the steak, and I’ll finish the rest. How about that?”
She shook her head. “I can’t eat meat. If you insist, I can order fish.” She looked at the waiter. “Can you bring me a side of grilled salmon with my salad?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.”
When the waiter took the rest of their order and left, Yamanu leaned forward. “You ate beef yesterday. Are you following some special diet?”
Her eyes widened. “I was supposed to come over for dinner tonight. With the scare I had, I totally forgot. Arielle is going to be disappointed. I need to let her know.”
“Don't worry about that. We can join her and the rest of the gang for dessert.” He pulled out his phone. “I’d better let her know that you’re okay.”
He typed a quick message to Alena, telling her he was with Mey and that they were eating dinner and would come later.
Mey sighed. “I feel so bad for scaring everyone. If my roommates were in, I would have just gone home. But I was afraid of being alone in the apartment.”
He put the phone away and took her hand again. “You did the right thing. Now, tell me what’s the deal with you and beef.”
She shrugged. “There is no deal. I had a cappuccino before I came here, and I ordered a Caesar salad that is also dairy. My parents keep kosher, and so do I, or at least I try to when I can. I’m not very strict about it, but I don’t eat pork or shellfish, and I don’t mix beef with dairy. That’s about it.”
She sounded apologetic, and he didn’t like that. “There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s probably a healthier way of eating. I read that many people are sensitive to dairy and shouldn’t consume it at all.”
“I know. It’s not good for my skin, but I was in a rebellious mood today.” She leaned forward and whispered. “It was a venti sized cup, and it was whole milk, not skim.”
Yamanu gasped dramatically. “The horror. You wicked, wicked lady. Where are the model police? I have to report you.”
26
Mey
As Mey laughed, the tension left her body.
Yamanu was incredible. Not only was he as handsome as a god, he was also protective, and he was funny.
What else could a girl ask for?
That he would like her as much as she liked him, that’s what.
He baffled her.
Usually, Mey had no problem deciphering people’s intentions, especially a man’s. But Yamanu was unlike any man she’d ever met.
He seemed to enjoy her company, and he was even holding her hand like a boyfriend would, but he wasn’t flirting with her. He was acting like a friend, not a boyfriend.
Still, he’d come running when she’d needed him, and she was enjoying his company even though his lack of romantic interest was disappointing.
Pulling her hand out of his, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We all have to make some sort of sacrifice. Nothing can be gained without giving up something in exchange.”
The humor left Yamanu’s eyes. “Ain’t that the truth.”
As the waiter returned with their order, Mey eyed the mountain of mashed potatoes on Yamanu’s plate. There was probably a whole stick of butter in that mound, and even though her mouth salivated imagining how good it would taste, she would never touch it.
He caught her looking. “Do you want a bite?” Using a fork, he moved the mound of potatoes away from the steak. “No cross contamination.” He winked.
“I can’t.”
He scooped a little with his fork and brought it next to her mouth. “One bite will not make a difference.”
She chuckled. “That’s where you are wrong. One would never be enough. Once I get the taste in my mouth, I won’t be able to resist taking another one, and then another, until there is nothing left, and I’ve consumed two thousand calories.”
Yamanu just stared at her, his big pale eyes sad instead of smiling.
She hated seeing him like that and wondered why it was so important to him that she ate his potatoes. “But if it means so much to you that I try, I’ll take a bite. I don’t want you to be sad.” She opened her mouth.
He retreated his hand. “I don’t want to be responsible for your succumbing to temptation.” He put the scoop in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “I know how hard it is to keep yourself disciplined and stay away from things that can potentially ruin the one good thing going for you.”
Was he talking about himself or about her? Because if he thought that her looks were the only thing that she had going for her, he’d just insulted her.
“Modeling is not my only option. There are plenty of things I can do, even if I gain some weight. Maybe not as well-paying, but still.”
His eyes widened and he reached for her hand again. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He clasped her fingers gently. “I’m sure you can do whatever you put your mind to. I was talking about myself.”
“I’m sure you have more than one thing going for you as well.”
“I do. But there are levels of importance.” He motioned at her salad. “You’re not eating.”
Was that his way of avoiding the topic?
She forked a few lettuce pieces together with a chunk
of salmon. “You’re being vague.” She put it in her mouth.
“I’ll give you an example. Let’s say that you are a lifeguard. If you don’t train regularly, you might not be able to save the next drowning victim. So routine training is crucially important. You must sacrifice your free time and comfort or change occupations. You also must protect your skin with sunblock and wear a hat, but that’s one level down in importance because neglecting to do so will not put anyone else's life in jeopardy. Only yours.”
“I get it. So, what’s that one thing for you? The one you have to sacrifice for?”
His eyes darted sideways, which meant that he was about to lie to her. “I’m like the lifeguard. I need to keep training in order to be able to protect the people I care for. That’s number one in level of importance for me.”
“But you are a business manager. How do you train for that? Do you negotiate with yourself in front of the mirror?”
Yamanu laughed. “That’s an interesting method. I might try it.” He cut another piece of steak and put it in his mouth.
Regrettably, her Mossad training hadn’t included interrogation techniques. It would have come in handy for pulling information out of Yamanu. He was damn good at evading and redirecting.
It was time to drop the polite and demure act and let her inner Israeli out. “If you don’t want to tell me about yourself, just say so. I won’t be offended. I get secrets, and believe me, I have plenty of my own. But I don’t like evasiveness. I appreciate bluntness.”
He put his fork down. “That’s refreshing. You are right. There are things I can’t tell you.”
“That’s fine. I know there is a lot of secrecy involving Arielle. Just tell me what you can without revealing anything you are not supposed to.”
“Fair enough.” He hesitated for a moment. “I’m not really Arielle's business manager. I’m in charge of her security team.”
That made so much more sense. His alertness, his insistence on her calling him the moment she felt unsafe, the speed with which he’d arrived when she called.
“I should have guessed. You don’t look like the business type.”
“I don’t?” He looked down at his button-down shirt. “I thought I dressed for the part well.”
Was he teasing?
She pointed with her fork. “With waist-length hair, muscles galore, and a face to die for? Not a chance. An actor, a model, yes. Not a number cruncher.”
“Tsk, tsk, Mey. Are you judging a book by its cover?”
“I’m not. But most people do. If you want to play a part, you need to adhere to the expected stereotypes. When you really are who you claim to be, you can afford not to.”
He nodded. “Very well stated, my lady Mey.”
27
Yamanu
As they left the restaurant, Yamanu wrapped his arm around Mey’s shoulders. “Let’s walk at an easy stroll. I want to make sure that you are not being followed.”
She leaned against him. “Perhaps you should check with Ari if it’s still okay for me to come over. We spent a long time in the restaurant. She might want to get into her pajamas and relax.”
He laughed. “I don’t think Arielle owns even one pair of pajamas. She wears fancy nightgowns.”
Mey lifted her eyes to him and smiled. “You’re doing it again. It’s actually fascinating. You pick up the irrelevant part of the question and expand on it while ignoring the main one. Are you doing it on purpose?”
Was he? Sometimes. But not this time.
“It wasn’t intentional. I just couldn’t imagine Ari in pajamas. But to answer your question, I don’t need to check with her. She’ll be mad if you don’t show up.”
“I’m just making sure.”
They walked in silence for a few moments, with Mey leaning against his shoulder and him trying to control his breathing from getting heavy while at the same time letting his senses flare out and check for a possible tail.
“Are you getting anything?” Mey whispered.
“No.”
She relaxed her grip on his arm. “That’s a relief.”
“It doesn't mean that you weren't followed before.”
She’d admitted to keeping secrets from him, which was fine. But if those secrets were behind what was happening to her sister and her, she should level with him.
“Maybe I imagined it. I was having a mini panic attack, and suddenly I was sure that I was being followed. It’s likely that one was the result of the other. The question is in which order.”
“Why did you have a panic attack?”
She hesitated for a moment. “I have a friend who has other friends who can hack into anywhere. I asked him to find out if Jin bought airfare and to where, or if she bought train or bus tickets. I called him from the coffee shop, and he said that there was no record of her buying anything at all using her credit or debit cards. Not only that, he tried to hack into her phone records to check who she’s been talking to lately, but it was all erased. He thinks it was done by the government because it is very difficult to do.”
“It is. But it’s also very difficult to hack into those records, especially if encryption is involved.”
“Jin used a regular cellular connection. But what worries me about it is that whoever did that could be privy to all our phone conversations and texts. And that’s really creepy. I was trying to remember if we had said anything that sounded suspicious, and that was when I felt like I was being followed.”
Mey wasn’t telling him half-truths, she was telling him quarter-truths, and he was tempted to reach into her mind and get to the bottom of what was going on.
Except, he didn’t have any justification for doing that. Keeping the clan secret was not the issue, and to do it for any other reason would be a major violation of clan law.
But if he couldn’t make her trust him enough to tell him the truth, he would not be able to help her.
“Have you ever felt like you were being followed before?”
She shook her head. “Except for guys who wanted to get my phone number or start something, I don’t think so.”
“You said that you know how to defend yourself.”
She chuckled. “It was part of my basic training.”
“Did you enjoy your service?”
“Yeah, I did. I made a lot of good friends. Fifty girls sleeping in one barrack for six intense weeks encourages bonding.”
Again, she was telling him partial truths. “Not every Israeli girl knows self-defense.”
“That’s true. The basic training is exactly what it sounds like—basic. I later took another course that was more thorough. But that was a long time ago, and I probably need a refresher.”
He stopped and turned to her. “Look, Mey. I know you can’t tell me military secrets. But can you at least tell me if there is a connection between what you did during your service and what’s happening now?”
She shook her head. “There is no connection.”
That was the truth as far as she knew it. He didn’t scent any guilt.
“Okay. Thank you for telling me.” He took her hand and resumed walking.
“I’m sorry that I can’t tell you more. The gist of it is that my part was not important, but I really can’t talk about it.” She squeezed his hand. “If you think that I’m some superhero warrior woman, don’t. I know enough to be scared, and I’m grateful that you offered me your help and glad that you are a pro at this. You make me feel safe.”
Yamanu felt his chest expand involuntarily. There was something immensely satisfying about protecting Mey. Which was strange.
Yamanu had been a protector for most of his adult life. His sole purpose in life was to shield the clan from its enemies, and since he was the only one who could do that, his entire self-worth was derived from that.
But for some reason, protecting this one woman and making her feel safe made him feel more of a man than all his years of serving the clan.
It was absurd. It was wrong. But it was nevert
heless true.
28
Lokan
“So, what’s the verdict?” Lokan asked after the waiter had cleared their table.
Carol pursed her lips. “Four and a quarter stars.”
She’d come up with an idea to keep herself busy. A foodie’s blog rating Washington’s finest eateries on a scale of one to five.
The food was delicious, and the service exemplary. He wondered what she’d penalized the place for.
“What cost them three-quarters of a star?”
“I deducted half a star for the bread. A fancy place like this should be baking their own and serving a variety of different ones. Theirs tasted like a store-bought baguette.”
“And the quarter?”
“That’s for how long it took the waiter to clear the table. He should have done it the moment we put our forks down.”
“Is that how it works?”
Carol shrugged. “I don’t care how others go about their ratings. This is my blog, and I’m going to write about things that matter to me.” She leaned closer. “It will cost them another half a star if the coffee is less than great. I got spoiled by Kian’s wife. Syssi makes the best cappuccinos outside of Italy.”
He smiled. “When was the last time you had coffee in Italy?”
“Never. But it’s supposedly the best.”
Reaching over the table, he took her hand. “As soon as my schedule clears, I’ll take you to Milan. I know a place where they make the best cappuccinos. You’ll have something to compare with.”
She sighed. “First, I want to visit home. I miss Syssi and Ella and the rest of the gang. I can’t wait to see everyone. Did Kian tell you how it’s going to work?”
“Not yet. I still have to call Losham and set up an appointment with him. That will determine the exact dates of our visit.”
“So, call him.” She waved a hand. “What are you waiting for?”
“Now?”