Her tangled hair tumbles over her shoulders her long legs are pale in the dim light from the hallway. This could be the lead we’ve been waiting for.” “We’ll start with the stores in the vicinity of SIP. “In the meantime, I’m going to need more personnel on the ground.” Will you talk to Anastasia? Tell her of the danger she might be in?”Īna bites her lip. “I’d like to increase your security, too, sir. “I don’t know how that will go down.” I look at Ana as she folds her arms, accentuating the outline of her breasts as they strain against the white cotton of my shirt. “I think you should consider additional security for her, sir.” “I wouldn’t have said so, but then I wouldn’t have thought she could do this.” “Do you think we should be concerned for Miss Steele’s safety?” Welch inquires. “There are press photographs of the two of you together.”Īna tilts her head to one side and tosses her hair over her shoulder as she listens to my side of the conversation. “So she’s tracked Miss Steele to her work.” I study her as I continue my conversation, her expression a mixture of curious and haunted. Early evening.” I turn, and Ana, dressed only in my shirt, is standing by the kitchen counter, watching me. “Was it at her office? Or at her apartment? When did it happen?” She accosted my girlfriend, Anastasia Steele.”
“I’m sorry to call you so early.” I begin pacing what space I have in the kitchen. Grey,” he says, his voice hoarse as usual. Welch answers in two rings and any hesitation I had about calling him at five in the morning disappears. In the living room, I retrieve my phone from my jacket pocket. I stumble out of bed and slip on my jeans. “She said, ‘What do you have that I don’t?’ and when I asked who she was, she said, ‘I’m nobody.’ ”Ĭhrist, Leila, what are you playing at? I have to call Welch. I know she won’t stop until she has some answers. His team is still trying to find her.ĭamn. During our update this morning, he had nothing to report on Leila’s whereabouts. “Yes.” What the hell is Leila doing confronting Ana? “When I left work this evening.” She’s shaken. “There was a girl outside SIP when I left this evening. She blinks once more, and her voice is clearer, less fearful. “What is it? What girl?” I resist the urge to gather her in my arms and kiss away her nightmares. “The girl,” she says, her eyes searching mine. “Oh,” she whispers, as she focuses on me, her lashes fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird. “Baby, are you okay? You were having a bad dream.” In the glow of the ambient streetlight I see she’s still asleep. Ana is tossing and turning beside me, making an eerie, unworldly sound that rouses every hair follicle on my body. Her braids pointing to the ground when she’s upside down. We have the world at our feet and I want to give her the world. Ana’s hair is burnished, titian, bright from the setting sun.
We’re in Charlie Tango, chasing the dawn.
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