The Heart Has Reasons (40 page)

Wanting
nothing more than to fall back to sleep, she dialed room service and ordered
breakfast.  With a heroic effort, she forced herself to her feet and
stumbled to the bathroom, stiff with pulled muscles.  There wasn’t a single
spot on her body that didn’t ache or throb, including each individual hair
follicle on her head.

By
seven-thirty, she was standing in the lobby, awaiting the return of the hotel’s
airport shuttle.  Her eyes darted around nervously, scanning for anyone
who looked like law enforcement.  Her tee shirt looked as though she’d
slept in it but, since her black eye had fully flowered overnight and was now
the color of a rotten banana, she doubted anyone would notice the wrinkles.

The
desk clerks were aware that she was there at the behest of the FBI. 
Although probably unaware of the specifics of her situation, they clearly
realized she was a victim of some sort, although she’d bet good money they’d be
happy to see her go.

The
hotel guests milling about the lobby, on the other hand, were clearly aghast at
her appearance.  They warily eyed her as if she were a crack-addicted
prostitute who’d wandered in off the street.

Then
a horrible thought occurred to her.  Had Jarvis and Sengupta instructed
the desk clerks to notify them if she attempted to leave the hotel and, if so,
had they already done so?  She was nearly vibrating with anxiety by the
time the airport shuttle returned.

All
the way to the airport, Larissa marveled at the fact that she was actually
planning to board a plane and fly clear across the country.  However, her
fear of flying was nothing compared to her fear that the FBI would intercept
and detain her.

At
LAX, there was a ticket and boarding pass waiting for her at the ticket
counter.  When asked about luggage, she hefted the trash bag.  “Just
this carry-on.”

People
gawked unashamedly as she limped through the terminal, their conversations
ceasing at her approach, only to resume in her wake.  Spotting a rack of
sunglasses in a gift shop, she bought the pair with dark, oversized lenses, and
instantly felt slightly better.

 At
the security checkpoint, she placed her purse and the trash bag on the conveyor
belt and stepped through the metal detector.  The three screeners, two
males and one female, eyed her suspiciously and then one of the men said,
“Ma’am, step over here, please.”

Painfully
aware of the multitude of eyes on her, she could feel her cheeks burning as she
stepped out of line.  As one of the two men began going through her purse,
the woman emptied the garbage bag onto a table, examined the blow dryer, and
sorted through her clothes before shoving everything back into the bag. 
“What happened to you?”

Tempted
to snap that it was none of her freaking business, Larissa forced her temper
down.  If she adopted an attitude, they’d deliberately slow the process
and she could end up missing her flight.  Nevertheless, instinct warned
that honesty might not be the best policy.  “I told my husband I was
filing for divorce, and this was his response.  Before he gets out of
jail, I’m going back to Charleston to stay with my parents.”  Ah,
crap.  She was becoming much too adept at lying.

The
lie had the desired effect, though.  Suspicion instantly changed to
sympathy and then she was heading down the concourse toward her gate.

On
the plane, heads turned as she made her way down the narrow aisle to economy
class, their whispers running ahead of her like autumn leaves in the
wind.  She dropped wearily into her seat, stowed the trash bag beneath the
seat in front of her, and slumped against the backrest.  Keeping the new
sunglasses on, she closed her eyes, shutting out all the curious faces.

Finally,
the engines revved, accelerating her heartbeat.  Opening her eyes, she
gazed past her two male seatmates out the window as the jet pulled away from
the Jetway and headed toward the runway.

The
man next to her glanced down at her hands gripping the armrests.  “First
time you’ve flown?”  When she nodded, he smiled reassuringly.
 “There’s nothing to be afraid of.  Flying’s safer than riding in a
car.”

Surmounting
difficulty was said to be the crucible that formed character.  Certain
events are so momentous that they actually change and redefine who we are. 
As the jet accelerated down the runway, changed was exactly how Larissa
felt.  Although her heart was racing, it wasn’t from fear.  A strange
excitement throbbed in her veins and, when the wheels lifted off the ground,
exhilaration filled her until she was brimming with it.

What
a goddamned fool she’d been all these years.

She
kept her gaze glued to the window until the ground had vanished beneath a thick
layer of clouds.  Her seatmate’s interest in her was almost palpable, so
she leaned back and closed her eyes to discourage any further attempts at
conversation.

Beneath
the constant babble of voices, she picked up a feminine conversation across the
aisle from her, their hushed whispers grating on her.

“I
wonder what happened to her.”

“Ask
her.”

“
You
ask her.”

“You’re
closer.”

“She’s
asleep.”

“No
she’s not.  Ask her.”

When
a shadow fell across her, she continued to feign slumber.  Close to her
ear, a voice whispered, “Miss, would you like to move up to first class?”

Larissa
opened her eyes to find a thirty-something female flight attendant leaning over
her.  “Yes, ma’am, I would.  Thank you.”

First
class was nearly deserted, and she sank into the spacious, cushiony seat with a
sigh of relief.  In the front row, a silver-haired man in an
expensive-looking suit glanced back at her, nodded, and returned his attention
to his laptop.

The
flight attendant gave her a consolatory smile.  “I saw the vultures
circling, and thought you might need rescuing.  Can I bring you anything?”

“Water
would be wonderful.  And if you have it, something for pain.”

Her
benefactress returned with a plastic bottle of spring water and a sealed packet
containing two aspirins.  Larissa glanced at her nametag and, making her
heartfelt gratitude evident in her voice, said, “Bless you, Stacy.  You
are truly an angel.”

* * * * *

Larissa managed to doze on and off. 
In Houston, she had an interminable hour-and-forty-minute layover.  Once
her connecting flight had departed, she managed to sleep a little more.

At
seven p.m. Charleston time, she awoke stiff, groggy, and disoriented upon
arrival at Charleston International.  Grabbing the trash bag from under
the seat, she followed the other passengers through the extended accordion of
the Jetway.

She
spotted Brendon and headed in his direction, weaving and edging her way through
the crowd.  When he finally saw her, his face ran through a gamut of
expressions.  His incipient smile froze, faltered into shock as he got a
better look at her, then drew tight, creasing with anger.

“Oh
my god!” he finally managed, pulling her into a gentle embrace.  “Honey,
why didn’t you tell me?  You said you were okay.”

“I
didn’t want to upset you.  It looks worse than it is.”

He
pulled back from her.  “Take off the glasses.”

When
she obediently raised them, he visibly recoiled.  “Goddamn it! 
Sparrow did this?”  She nodded and lowered the glasses back into
place.  “May the bastard burn in hell for all eternity.”

“Amen
to that.”

When
he had his temper under control, he said, “Honey, I am
so
proud of
you.  So how was the flight?  Any panic attacks?”

“I
wasn’t even scared.  At least, not much.  After nearly being sliced,
diced, and flambéed by Sparrow, the risk of dying in a plane crash paled in
comparison.”

His
wide, generous mouth clamped in a straight white line.  “Goddamn that
son-of-a-bitch.”

She
slipped her arm through his.  “I’m okay, Brendon.  Really.”

As
they started through the terminal, he frowned at the plastic bag in her
hand.  “What’s that?”

“My
clothes and blow-dryer.”

“Oh,
honey. 
Please
tell me you didn’t just fly across country toting a
garbage bag for a carry-on case.”

“Believe
me, with this face, no one noticed.”

Concern
etched his features.  “No, I guess not.”

In
deference to her limp, he had her wait by the exit while he went to retrieve
his car.  Once she was buckled in beside him, she said, “Let’s take the
expressway, it’s quicker.”

His
head whipped around.  “Who the hell are you, and what have you done with
Larissa?”

Her
smile tugged painfully at the sutures in her lip.  “Ow!  Don’t make
me laugh.”

Once
they were on the expressway, she began telling him the same story she’d told
the police and FBI.  It was almost comforting to tell it once again, if
only for the simple fact of hearing herself tell it so convincingly.

Brendon
parked in front of her house just behind her Corolla, and followed her
inside.  Immeasurably thankful to be home, she collapsed onto the
sofa.  He went around checking windows and doors.  After feeding her
fish, he joined her.

“Now
that you’ve heard the version I gave the FBI, would you like to hear the true
and unaltered story?”

“Larissa! 
You
lied
to them?”

“I
had no choice.”

He
frowned, clearly baffled.  “Why?  What really happened?”

“You
have to promise you’ll never tell a soul.”

“Cross
my heart and hope to die.”

“Everything
happened exactly as I already told you, except for a few incidents.”  She
went on to recount the rest of the story, including her seduction of her
kidnapper and her subsequent flight and recapture, her near rape at the hands
of the thugs and the beating Chase had given them, and how he’d returned to
kill Sparrow.

“Why
would you tell the FBI
you
killed Sparrow?  And why didn’t you
identify your kidnapper?  The son-of-a-bitch needs to pay for what he
did.”

“You
don’t understand.  Chase is basically a good guy.”

“Good
guys don’t go around kidnapping people!”

“He
made a mistake, a horrendous mistake which, at great risk to himself, he
managed to rectify.  Kidnapping’s a federal offence.  He could spend
the rest of his life in prison.”

“That’s
exactly what he deserves.  But the important thing is that you’re safe
now.”

“Unfortunately,
the thugs told the FBI about the incident in the alley.  Although Chase
was masked at the time, I wasn’t, and so the agents don’t believe my version of
events. 

“How
many thugs were there?”

“Five.”

“Who
the hell is this guy?  Jason Statham?”

“Statham
couldn’t hold a candle to Chase.  You should have seen him.  He was
magnificent.”

Brendon
gazed at her, his face carefully neutral.  “Well, the agents must have
believed you if they let you leave.”

“Actually,
I skipped out.”

He
raked both hands through his hair.  “Honey,
please
tell me you’re
joking.”

She
shook her head.  “I wasn’t under arrest, and no one actually told me I
couldn’t leave, so I doubt they can charge me with anything.”

After
a moment, he said, “When you seduced him, was it … was it really awful?” 
When her face abruptly crumpled, he misinterpreted her reaction and scooted
down the sofa to gather her into his arms.  “Oh, honey, I’m so
sorry.”  As she cried, he asked hesitantly, “Did he hurt you?”

“No,”
she mumbled into his shoulder.  “He rocked my world.”

She
felt him stiffen, and he was silent for several moments.  “Larissa, are
you in
love
with this asshole?”

“I
don’t know,” she sobbed.

CHAPTER
28

Despite having slept so much in the air
the day before, Larissa didn’t awaken until nine the next morning. 
Although determined to spend the entire day buried beneath the sheets, a full
bladder finally drove her from the bed.  She limped to the bathroom, then
forced herself to make several slow laps through the house in an attempt to
walk out some of the stiffness.

Brendon
had volunteered to stay the night with her but, now that Sparrow was dead, for
the first time in two years she was unafraid.  Brendon had also told her
she could return to work whenever she felt ready to face the public. 
Although she joked that he was worried her face would scare off customers, she
was grateful for the short reprieve.  She felt numb and oddly fragile, as
if she’d somehow metamorphosed into glass and the slightest bump might shatter
her into a trillion tiny shards.

At
ten-thirty, she was lethargically sipping her second cup of coffee when the
doorbell rang.  Expecting yet another reporter, shock rocketed through her
when she squinted out the peephole.  Agent Jarvis!  Was he here to
arrest her for fleeing California?  Well, he couldn’t very well take her
to jail if she didn’t answer the door.