“I’ll come home.”
“First bus leaves Gainesville at six forty. I can get you a flight—”
“The bus is fine,” she said. “It’ll give me the time to get my head clear.”
All being well, she’d be home not long after Score was usually out of bed. Nothing was certain yet and she still wanted to speak to Burl. But Score knew the players better than her; he had more experience. He wanted trust. In so many ways, that was easy to give. In others, she didn’t know what the hell to think.
After spending hours on a bus, Shyla was grateful to be upright, stretching out her idle muscles. Her mind was the opposite of idle. For days, all she’d done was think. Her head needed to rest. Once she saw Score and got an idea of his mood, then she’d let her brain off the hook for a while.
Being optimistic was easy right up until the moment she reached his building. Their building. Whatever it was, she wasn’t sure.
Beeks and Fish could be inside. Some part of her craved the normalcy of cooking for them and being back in her old position. The other part was terrified that everyone would act like nothing was different. If that happened, she would never get any answers.
The last time she’d been nervous going up in the elevator was the day she’d first arrived to apply for the job. No one could’ve foreseen where they would end up. That she’d fall for her boss, who also happened to be a member of one of the most notorious crime families in the country. Oh, and he’d spent over half a decade in prison. For a crime he didn’t commit, granted, but those years hardened him even more than his family in his childhood.
There couldn’t be a man more opposite to her. Shyla’s only experience with criminality was through her brother. Even then, he’d kept it away from the family and hadn’t exposed them to his misdeeds.
Running away and starting afresh was probably the smartest course of action. Yet, love carried her into the elevator despite her nerves. Whether it worked out or not, Shyla had to be able to tell herself that she’d tried everything. Hearing Score out was the least she could do.
Leaving in the way she had didn’t give him any chance to answer her questions. He probably didn’t want to, but she needed to give him an opportunity to make a different choice. After all he had done for her, Shyla couldn’t just turn her back and give up.
That being the case, her trip wasn’t one of mercy, not for Score. Shyla missed him too and hated how she’d walked away. They deserved one last chance to lay it all out. After that, they’d have to see if there was any glimmer of hope that they might win. That was it. Either they both won and kept each other, or they both lost, cornered by their own undoing. Checkmate.
As the elevator doors opened, Shyla held her breath. So much was different, different to how it had been when she first arrived full of optimism.
The vast blue ocean was a comfort that brought a smile to her face. Absorbing its beauty, she speculated about what she might do differently if they could start all over again.
Nothing. There was nothing that she could change. Adjusting anything from the way it originally happened could alter the outcome. Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten close to Score. No matter how it turned out, Shyla wouldn’t give up their history for anything.
Holding her head high, she strode out of the elevator doing her best to convince herself that her confidence was real.
That didn’t last long when a tall, gorgeous Latina woman appeared from the kitchen.
“Hello,” she said, drying her hands as she came closer. “I am Maria. You are Shyla, yes?”
Was she? At that moment, Shyla was suffering what felt like an out of body experience. Someone else was in her place. Another woman was doing her duties.
“Maria.” Repeating the name took so much effort that it came out in a single burst. Startling the woman wasn’t the best first impression. That demonstrated how at least one thing about her hadn’t changed since her first arrival at the apartment. “What are you doing here?”
With a broad smile splitting her beautiful face, Maria opened her arms. “I keep the casa beautiful.”
The casa. Her casa. Shyla wanted to order the beauty out of her kitchen, and out of her apartment. Her protective urge was nothing to do with Maria, it was about anyone being in her place.
Inhaling through her nose, Shyla held onto her calm. The long journey no doubt brought out her cranky side. The last few days had been stressful; she wasn’t in the most diplomatic mood. Taking a moment to breathe, she fought to quell the urge to shout.
“Where is Mr. McDade?”
Maria’s gaze turned quizzical. “I do not know. Would you like me to cook something for you?”
Shyla held up a hand and backed away. “No, thank you.” Food was the last thing on her mind. Retreating to put the bags in the foyer closet, she closed the door. “I’ll just go…”
She pointed to the hallway, but Maria leaped into her path. “Señor does not allow—”
“I’ll take the punishment,” she said, noting the worry in Maria’s eyes. “Excuse me.”
Though Maria was reluctant, she did step aside. Shyla could’ve gone around her but didn’t want to make a scene, especially since she’d returned for a solemn reason.
While heading down the hallway, Shyla’s confidence rose. She didn’t need to convince herself it was real. Something about approaching Score’s bedroom inspired her. Yes, she was nervous about the outcome, but she
