“Can you remember anything else, Sam? Anything at all?” Blake presses.
“Ben walked the guy from the VIP room to his office. Before the door closed, Ben said, ‘Let’s get this done before you sail.’ ”
Blake leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Sayavong flies in and out of the country. He’s on the FBI’s watch list, so we have all his flight information for the last few years. Unless . . .” He taps his index finger on his chin. “Maybe that’s how he moves his cargo . . . in containers. Arroyo might have been talking about a commercial ship.”
He’s back on the phone a second later, filling Cooper in on his theory. He stands and moves to the balcony as they work out a strategy to search shipping records, and I go to the kitchen and finish chopping the bell peppers. Blake is still on the phone when he comes back in and fires up the burner. He pours some egg into the pan and swirls it with is wrist. “He probably didn’t use one of the bigger shippers,” he’s saying to Cooper. “They have too many checks and balances . . . too much government oversight.”
I layer the veggies into the omelet, and when the egg starts to set, Blake adds the cheese, then folds it expertly. He gives me a playful shove with his hip and shoos me into the living room. “Yep. I think we should start there and work our way up,” he tells Cooper, flipping the omelet in the pan.
I sit, and that’s when I see Trent and Lexie’s wedding invitation, still on the coffee table. I’d forgotten about it, with everything else that happened.
I pick it up and flip it over in my hands, then slip it out and read it over again. There’s a pang in my heart I don’t expect as my finger trails over Lexie’s name. I really wish things were different. I wish I hadn’t said the things I did. I wish I could be there for her.
I slip her note out of the envelope and unfold it.
Dear Sam,
I know there’s nothing I can say to make up for the way things happened between us. I should have been honest with you when I realized I was in love with Trent. I was just so scared and confused. I thought being away from him in Rome would clear my head and make me see that what happened between us before I left was just a huge mistake. But it did the opposite. The longer we were apart, the more I realized what a big part of me he is. The more I realized I wasn’t whole without him.
It killed me not to be able to tell you this. Especially when you and he started spending time together. But I honestly didn’t know how he felt. I thought he regretted what we’d done and was trying to move on, and a part of me was happy it was with you, because I knew how you’d always felt about him.
Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I want you to know I didn’t plan any of it, and neither of us ever meant to hurt you. I miss you, and I wanted so much to talk to you before the wedding. Your mom said you’re away where you can’t be reached. I hope it’s somewhere fascinating, like Tibet. Whenever it is that you get this, just know that I so wanted you by my side for the wedding.
Miss you. Love you.
Lexie
I sit, staring at the note until the cushion next to me depresses. I look up to see Blake with a plate in each hand, and his expression all concern.
“Let me guess. The ex-boyfriend and his stepsister?” he says.
“Bingo,” I say, setting everything back on the coffee table.
He hands me an omelet. “Eat.”
I blow out a heavy sigh and take the plate. “Thanks.”
We eat, and when we’ve finished, I take our plates back to the kitchen and rinse them.
Blake brings his coffee and crosses to the stairs. “When you’re done,” he says, “come down.”
My gaze locks on his and he gives me that cocky almost-smile as he disappears down the stairs.
His bedroom’s down there.
I can’t stop my eyes from flicking at the stairs every few seconds while I finish cleaning. Once I have the dishes in the dishwasher, I follow him downstairs and find him in the middle of Kankû-dai. I watch, mesmerized, as he finishes.
“You ready to try again?” he asks after his final bow.
“Considering I really want to punch something, sure. Why the hell not.”
He arches an eyebrow. “I think we should stick with kata until your shoulder’s better.”
“My shoulder’s fine.” I give him my best smirk. “Just admit it. You’re scared of me.”
His face goes all serious and his eyes darken. “Everything about you scares the hell out of me.”
We just stand here staring at each other for the better part of forever, and I feel my breathing get rough and my insides churn with the need to finish what we started the other night.
Finally, he lowers his lashes. “So . . . Kankû-dai, or Kankû-shô?”
“I want to spar.”
His eyes flash back to mine. “You’re sure your shoulder is ready?”
I step closer. “I’m ready.”
He gives me a look. “Your wish, my command.”
I take a deep cleansing breath, then bow.
He bows then starts to circle slowly to his left. I follow his movements, but I can tell he’s waiting for me to make the first move.
“Don’t you dare go easy on me,” I warn, “because I’ll beat your ass at your best.”
He tips his head and a smile ticks one corner of his mouth. “Be careful what you wish for.”
I drop to a crouch and swing out with my leg, but Blake deflects my kick easily.
“I’m rusty,” I mutter under my breath.
He counters with a punch to my sternum, but I deflect it and spin, connecting with a kick to his knee.
We trade a few punches, then I lunge, but he twists out of my grasp. We circle a few more times, exchanging blows, which we both deflect. I go low for his legs again, and this time I get enough of his knee to take him down. But before I can get ahold of his leg to pin him, he’s rolled over his shoulder and is on his feet again.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” he taunts.
“Be careful what you wish for,” I say, singsonging his words back at him.
He tips his head, his eyes sizing me up, looking for my weakness. He seems to zero in on my shoulder, taking a few jabs that I’m forced to deflect with my right arm, but then he takes me by surprise when he swings out with his leg, buckling my knee and dropping me to the floor.
I roll backward over my shoulder and spring to my feet, unleashing a kick that connects with his sternum and rocks him back on his heels. He stumbles against the pool table, and I’m on him in a heartbeat. But before I can get a grasp on him, he hooks an elbow under my leg, lifting me completely off the ground. He spins me and pins my back to the green felt.
He’s breathing hard as he hovers over me, his body wedged between my spread legs and his hands planted on either side of my shoulders, and I see the struggle behind his eyes. Beads of sweat trickle along his neck, disappearing under the brushed cotton of his T-shirt.
I lay here, frozen like the rabbit in the headlights, waiting for him to decide. He continues to hover over me for what feels like forever, his hot breath and the ravenous look in his eye turning my insides into a quivering mass.
But then something in his eyes changes. The fire is still there, but a shadow of resignation creeps over them and his jaw tightens with his growing resolve. He pushes off the pool table and slowly backs away, his hands in the air as if surrendering . . . maybe to his better judgment. Certainly not to me.
When I can move, I sit up and straighten my tank top.