Because of downtown’s close proximity to the river, the garage was a wind tunnel. She pulled the sable closer for warmth. Dressed in the expensive coat and heels, and wearing the dark glasses he’d insisted she put on, she once again had trouble recognizing herself. When they reached the door, he opened it solicitously.
Inside, the building was teeming with people. She wondered if she would see anyone she knew. If she did, they’d probably have as much of a problem recognizing her as she did herself.
Still, she discreetly searched the faces of the multitudes swarming over the interior. And she did see one. Saint’s! Her breathing stopped. He stood propped against a water fountain, framed yet hidden by the comings and goings of the thick crowd like a man hidden in a picture. Their eyes met across the crowded lobby and held. The smile he sent her was bittersweet. She glanced up to see if Chandler had noticed his presence, but Chandler gave no indication he had. When she swung her eyes back to Saint he was no longer there. Gone. Her quick, almost frantic, scan of the surroundings proved futile. It was as if she’d imagined him. Had she? A stunned Sarita followed Chandler into a crowded elevator.
They exited on the fourteenth floor. The hush of the carpeted hallway was in marked contrast to the din in the lobby. The name of one of the city’s most prominent judges was etched on the small brass plate on the closed door Chandler stopped in front of. Sarita’s recognition of the famous name and her having seen Saint downstairs only added to her nervousness.
A secretary showed them into an inner office, where a smiling gray-haired man came out from behind his desk and greeted them with a smile. “Morning, Mykal. This the lucky young lady?”
Myk nodded. “Morning, Your Honor. Yes, this is Sarita Grayson.”
“Good morning, young woman.”
“Your Honor,” Sarita said, shaking his outstretched hand. In spite of the mysterious reason for the visit, it was indeed an honor to meet him. Judge Wade Morgan’s work with the Civil Rights movement and other nation-changing issues were well known. He was in his seventies, and his age had slowed his roll a bit, but he was still one of the most respected jurists in the country.
Judge Morgan eyed her, and said, “Been trying to get this rascal to marry for years. Glad to see he’s ready to make the plunge.”
Sarita stiffened. She knew she’d agreed to marry him, but today? Like this? With no warning? Didn’t she need a blood test first?
The judge said, “Are you both ready?”
Myk looked down at his soon to be bride and hoped the ceremony would go smoothly. “You ready?”
Truthfully, Sarita wanted to say, no. She was no more ready to marry him than she was to walk barefoot on the moon, but they’d made a deal, and she would honor it. “Yes.”
So the judge began reciting the words and a silent Sarita willed herself not to shake.
The judge stopped at one point, and asked, “Is there a ring?”
“Yes,” Myk hadn’t had time to buy her a true ring, but did have one that would do until he made a visit to the jeweler’s. He withdrew the black-stone ring from his finger. “I know it’s too big,” he told her. “I’ll get you one that fits in a couple of days. Until then let’s do this….”
He undid the catch on the thin silver chain around his neck and lifted it free, then threaded the chain through the ring.
Sarita was shaking; her cool gone. When he gently placed the chain around her neck his eyes were as brilliant as the ring’s stone. For just a moment, the chain retained the heat of his body, and that warmth against her skin touched her with a strange sense of something she couldn’t name.
Judge Morgan said with a kindly smile, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride, Myk.”
Sarita didn’t want to be kissed; she was having enough trouble keeping herself together as it was.
Myk looked down at that lush mouth and wondered what it might be like to kiss her slowly and fully, but to satisfy that curiosity there in front of the judge would be to take advantage of the situation and of her. Myk was more of a man than that. Holding her eyes he said instead, “Sarita’s a bit shy. I’ll save that kiss for a more private place, if you don’t mind, sir….”
The judge chuckled. “Oh, of course not.”
Sarita just knew she was going to shake apart.
Now that the civil ceremony was over, the new Mr. and Mrs. Mykal Chandler signed all the papers in all the spots indicated by the judge’s clerk, and a few minutes later were back on the elevator to the underground garage that held his car. If someone had told Sarita that by today she’d be married to the man she’d shot in the elevator, she’d have said they were nuts.
That evening, a somewhat blue Sarita sat in her room. She hadn’t seen Chandler since the return from the judge’s office that morning, but that wasn’t what had her so down. What had her down was her out-of-control life. Lily had come up a few times to check on her and bring lunch, but Sarita felt too blah to eat.
Instead, she was seated cross-legged on the floor in front of the roaring fireplace, brooding. She’d drawn the drapes long ago but not turned on any lights. The big spacious room echoed silently around her, the crackling fire the only sound. She knew feeling sorry for herself would not help things. Seeing Saint downtown that morning only generated more questions for which she had no answers. What the hell have I stumbled into? she asked herself for the hundredth time. Why in the world would a man like Mykal Chandler be stealing diamonds in the middle of the night? Did he know Fletcher? Did he and Saint know more about Fletcher’s shooting than they’d revealed to her? She put her hands to her eyes. No more questions. Any more, and she’d go insane.
A knock on the door sounded, and she tensed as the door slowly opened. The light from the hallway framed Lily against the dark. Sarita relaxed. It wasn’t Chandler.
Lily’s voice sounded concerned, “Are you okay, dear?”
“I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.”
Lily came over and stood near where Sarita sat on the floor. Lily knew the circumstances around the young woman’s coming there to live, and the housekeeper had to admit to being totally surprised by Myk’s solution, especially knowing he could have sent Sarita to any number of places around the country where she would be safe until things became clearer. It never occurred to Lily that he might have other reasons for keeping Sarita under his wing until she witnessed the small fortune he’d spent on this particular young woman in the past few days. Lily had known Mykal a long time, and in the past he always preferred the painted, flashy type, like that Faye he’d finally gotten rid of. This small, solemn one fit neither category. “I wanted to come up and say good-bye.”
Sarita didn’t remember Lily ever coming up and saying good-bye on previous nights, but tonight Sarita appreciated the sentiment. Sarita stood up against the fire’s light and showed Lily a pleasant face. Lily had been nothing but kind through this whole craziness. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“No, honey. I’m leaving for good. I won’t be back tomorrow.”
Sarita stiffened, “For good?”
Lily nodded. The distress on Sarita’s face almost made Lily wish she hadn’t stopped in.
Sarita jumped to her own conclusions. “Did he fire you?” she asked, her hand on her hip.
Lily chuckled. “No, nothing like that. My daughter finally had her baby, and I’m going home to Atlanta. Now that Myk has a wife, I get to go play grandma. My ride to the airport will be here in a little while.”
“Congratulations,” Sarita offered sincerely. Although the two women could not be considered friends, they had gotten along. For Sarita it had been nice having someone in the house besides Mr. Personality. For Lily it had become a pleasure watching Sarita put Myk through his paces, and she doubted she would ever forget the performance the young woman put on at lunch yesterday. She guessed neither would Mykal. Lily believed it would do him a world of good to be challenged so fearlessly. Those who loved Mykal had a tendency to let him have his own
way most of the time because most of the time he was correct. Lily did not see Sarita deferring to him so easily, correct or not.
Sarita asked, “Did he mention that we were married today?”
“Yes,” she replied gently, then added, “Sarita, things are not always the way they seem. The man you married today is hard, yes, and tough—but beneath all that he’s fine and caring. He has a lot on his mind right now. Give him some time, and I think you’ll be surprised.”
Sarita thought she’d be surprised if Lily’s predictions came true. “You won’t be offended if I reserve judgment?”
“No.”
“Good. Did your daughter have a boy or girl?”
“Girl. Named her Alexis Lily.” Lily’s beaming face told all.
“Well, you have a good time with little Lily and kiss her for me. Maybe you and I will meet again.”
“I’m sure we will. Take care now.”
“You too,” Sarita responded softly.
Lily exited, closing the door gently. Sarita stared over at the closed door. She’d never felt so alone in her life.
Six
When the taillights of the car taking Lily to the airport faded into the darkness, the watching Myk sighed and closed his front door. He’d miss her. She was not only a valued friend, but a member of the NIA board as well. In fact, it had been her idea to enlist a few of her trusted day worker friends to surveil the estates of the wealthy suburbanite dealers on NIA’s initial hit list. At first, many on the task force had been cool to the idea, but Lily’s corps of maids, cooks, gardeners, and chauffeurs soon proved their worth. The night NIA hit Marvin Rand, it had been one of Lily’s cooks who’d secretly mixed the tranq in with the Dobermans’ dinners. Lily’s arm of the organization had become a vital part of the operation.
As of today though, Lily was no longer on the board. She’d resigned. The birth of Alexis Lily meant more to her than being a crime fighter, so her duties as chair of her wing would be given to someone else.
Myk headed upstairs to the office he maintained at home. He had work to do, but Lily lingered in his mind. How was he supposed to get along without her? For the past six years, she’d not only fed him and kept his house; she’d put up with his moods. He could talk to her, confide in her, and most of all, trust her to tell him the truth whether he cared to hear it or not. Yes, he would miss Lily Sanders, very much.
Myk’s home office was located down an inner hallway that led from his bedroom. Inside, he flicked on the light and closed the door behind him. Drake had dubbed the space, the War Room. From there Myk ran NIA. Stretched out on the wall above the computers hung a big map of the city and surrounding suburbs. Multicolored pins were stuck into areas where operations were under way. The number had grown in the past few months, representing the rising strength of the organization and the resolve of the men and women who’d committed to the fight. NIA’s successes were just a drop in the bucket when compared to the hundreds of drug-infested cities across the nation, but it was a start.
An hour passed before he finally finished the reports on everything from the names of the legal owners of the crack houses NIA’s squads would be hitting the following week to profiles of the dealers squatting in them.
Stretching for a moment to ease the strain in his neck and shoulders, he swiveled his chair around and pointed a remote at the bank of video monitors built into the back wall. He’d had the display installed as part of the house’s security system. At the punch of a button he could see into every room in the house. He brought up Sarita’s bedroom. The screen showed his new bride seated on the floor in front of the fireplace. He supposed he should offer to take her to dinner someplace. It was her wedding night, and some women expected traditional treatment regardless of the circumstances. He doubted that would apply to her though; convention didn’t seem to be her strong suit. However, they needed to talk. If he took her to a public place, he hoped she would be less likely to go off once the discussion began. Undoubtedly she would hit the ceiling when he told her about the wedding reception they were going to have in two days. In reality, Myk wasn’t thrilled with the idea either; but after hearing Drake’s explanation as to why the reception would be necessary, he’d grudgingly agreed with the logic. In order for people to accept the marriage as real and not a facade, he and Sarita would have to have the traditional dog-and-pony-show celebration. Everyone would be expecting it.
Once the reception was over and the hoopla died down, Myk could cut his ties to the limelight. Maybe he’d move the entire operation up to his house on Lake Michigan and really put some miles between himself and all the distractions. He especially hoped the reception would send the female pack after other meat. The invitations had gone out yesterday, and he could already feel his ears burning. The announcement of his marriage would definitely give folks something to talk about. He hoped so, because with everybody speculating on that topic, no one would be interested in his other life.
He walked around to her end of the house and rapped at her door. When he didn’t get a response, he pushed his master key into the lock and walked into the firelit room. No one. On her vanity table lay the chain laced with his ring. He supposed she’d taken it off the minute she’d returned. He set aside how that scenario made him feel and concentrated instead on where she might be. He wouldn’t put it past her to have somehow managed to smuggle herself out in Lily’s luggage. On the heels of that thought, she stepped out of the bathroom, and he relaxed.
Sarita hid her surprise at seeing him and hastily wiped away the tears in her eyes. They were the last thing he needed to see. “I assumed you knocked first?”
The sight of her tear-bright eyes surprised him to say the least. “I did. No answer. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t snuck out in Lily’s suitcase.”
“I should be so lucky,” she drawled drolly. “Did you want something?”
“I came to invite you to dinner. There are loose ends we need to tie up.”
“What are they?”
“Over dinner,” he repeated.
She studied him for a moment. “Is this going to be another one of your surprises?”
Myk saw the challenge in her eyes. “You have a bone to pick with me about something?”
“Yes,” she stated plainly. “I do. It would have been nice to have known ahead of time that I was going to be married this morning.”
“It wouldn’t have changed things.”
“But I would have been prepared.”
“I thought doing it my way would cut down on the drama.”
“In other words, you expected me to cause a scene?”
He shrugged. “Yes.”
She looked him in the eye. “Why?”
“Why?” he asked with humorous astonishment. “Why shouldn’t I?”
Sarita felt as if her head were spinning.
Myk added, “So, we are legally married, whether you want to be or not.”
“Oh, I want to be because I can’t wait to collect my fifty grand.”
He ran his eyes over her bewitching mouth. “And I can’t wait to pay it.”
On the ride over to the restaurant, Sarita sat silently, watching the city lights roll by the window. She told him softly. “I want to go back to work, Chandler.” Being separated from her work and the people she loved was also fueling her blue mood. She added, “I understand I might be in danger from the owners of those rocks, but I’m a stand-and-fight kinda lady. I don’t like all this sneaking and hiding.”
Myk noted her serious tone. “Suppose I let you return to work and something happens?”
“You could shop for a new wife,” she said lightly.
He smiled in spite of himself, “That’s not what I meant. Suppose you’re threatened?”
“I’ve been threatened before. Saint may not believe this, but there are other people around capable of helping me protect myself.”
“Such as?”
“Well, there’s Mr. Fukiya.”
“Who’s he?”
> “An Asian man who lives a few blocks from the center. You’ll have to meet him. He moved into the neighborhood about four years ago. The kids are convinced he’s a Ninja just because he teaches them martial arts. I told them they’d been watching too many movies until the night Fletcher’s houses burned down last summer.”
“What happened?”
“A few hours after the fire department and the police left, Fukiya knocked on my door. I was surprised to see him because he’d never come to the house before. He told me not to worry about the threats Fletcher had made and to sleep peacefully. And he left.”
“When did Fletcher threaten you?”
“While his houses were burning down and the folks from the neighborhood and I were standing across the street cheering on the flames. He just knew I’d lit the match, and told me they’d find my body in the river in the morning. He was too angry.”
“Did the police hear him?”
“No, they were gone by then. The people in the crowd heard him though.”
“So what made you change your mind about Fukiya being a Ninja?”
“Because Fletcher came to my office the next morning and apologized profusely for the threats. Told me he was only kidding about hurting me, went on and on. Then he said, tell the Ninja he’d apologized, just like he promised. I looked at him like he was crazy. Then he said again, tell the Ninja he apologized. I figured Fletcher had been sampling his tenants’ products, so I said to him, okay, and he left. I didn’t think any more about it until Mr. Fukiya came in later that same afternoon and said he’d heard Fletcher had come over and apologized. I was surprised because I hadn’t told anyone about Fletcher’s visit, or at least I didn’t remember telling anyone. When I told Mr. Fukiya what he’d heard was true, he nodded good-bye, and left. He and I have never had a conversation about it since.”