Page 63 of In the Shadows
He cupped her face in his hands. Her skin was cold. "Listen to me. You're going to have lunch with Warren Caldwell tomorrow. You're going to let him talk. You're going to nod and ask questions and act like you're considering whatever he offers. And when it's over, you're going to walk out of that restaurant and come straight to me."
"And then?"
"And then we end this." His thumbs traced her cheekbones. "Eleven days. That's all I need. Eleven days, and Warren Caldwell will never threaten you again."
She closed her eyes. Leaned into his touch. "What if eleven days is too long?"
"Then we adapt. We accelerate. We do whatever we have to do." He pressed his forehead to hers. "But we don't run. And we don't break. Not now. Not when we're this close."
She was quiet for a moment. Then she opened her eyes, and something had shifted in them. The fear was still there, but underneath it, steel.
"Okay," she said. "Okay."
Footsteps made them spring apart.
"Lila?" A woman's voice. "Here you are. The mayor's here for the budget meeting."
"I'll be right there." Lila's voice was steady. Composed. The mask was back in place so fast it made Ronan's chest ache.
She smoothed her hair. Straightened her blouse. Met his eyes.
"Tonight?" she asked quietly.
"Tonight."
She nodded once, then walked past him and into the building.
Ronan stood on the sidewalk, listening to her footsteps recede into the building, and thought about what it cost her to keep walking. To keep smiling. To keep pretending.
Eleven days.
He pulled out his phone and texted Caleb.
Accelerate the timeline. We may not have eleven days.
Lila arrived at his cottage just after nine.
She didn't say anything when he opened the door. Just stepped inside, wrapped her arms around him, and held on. He kicked the door shut and held her.
They stood like that for a long time. Long enough for the tension to drain out of her shoulders. Long enough for her breathing to slow. Long enough for the night sounds of the Gulf to fill the silence—waves against the shore, wind through the palms, the distant cry of a night bird.
"I hated today," she said finally, her voice muffled against his chest.
"I know."
"I sat through a two-hour budget meeting and smiled at the mayor and made small talk about parade permits, and the whole time I kept thinking about Warren's voice on the phone. The way he said my father's name. Like it meant nothing. Like Daniel Bennett was just a tool he'd used and discarded."
Ronan tightened his arms around her. "He's going to pay for that."
"I know." She pulled back to look at him. "I know he is. And I know we have a plan, and I trust you're going to keep me safe. But right now, tonight, I don't want to think about any of it. I don't want to think about Warren or the centennial or what happens in eleven days."
"What do you want?"
She reached up and touched his face. "I want to feel something that isn't fear."
He kissed her. Slow at first, then deeper. She melted into him, her fingers sliding into his hair, her body pressing against his. He walked her backward toward the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way, and when they fell onto the bed together, he made sure she felt everything except fear.
Afterward, she lay with her head on his chest, tracing idle patterns on his skin.
