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  “I have a date tonight,” Maji confessed. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “That you are allowed a little joy?” Ava scrutinized her in the silence that followed. “Do you like her?”

  “Yeah. She’s cute, and nice, and smart, and…nice.”

  “Nice is bad?”

  Maji groaned in frustration. “She’s not a hookup kind of woman, I can tell. And we’re both in town for a while, so…”

  “Oh no. She might want to get to know you? She might really see you?”

  “You know that’s not an option. And lying isn’t fair to her.” And it’s fucked up every relationship you’ve tried since enlisting.

  “There is more to you than your work,” Ava reminded her. “She doesn’t have to know what you do to see who you are.”

  “Who I am would send her running.” At least Celeste had that option. You, Rios, are stuck with you. Ava sighed and Maji wanted to sign off, let her off the hook. “Sorry. I know, I’m not a bad person, just human, I did my best, yadda yadda. Really, I get it intellectually. I’m just…not there yet.”

  “No, darling. You have to earn back your own trust. And that takes time.” Ava smiled sympathetically. They both knew patience wasn’t Maji’s forte.

  Hard to picture that future, but Ava had faith enough for the two of them. “And until then? Dinner’s tonight.”

  “Perhaps you need a friend right now, more than a lover. There is nothing wrong with keeping your physical and emotional needs separate while you heal. What are you doing for exercise these days?”

  “A little running, the usual. I need to bump it up.”

  “Perhaps Hannah could help you find a dojo or someone on the island for real workouts. You need some physical outlets now that you are stronger.”

  “Guess I’d better, if I’m going to be a nun.”

  Ava laughed. “Oh, to be twenty-four again. I never said you should avoid sex. If you can enjoy some, by all means do. Just not with the drama.”

  Maji heard Hannah’s voice in the background, announcing the arrival of the tea. “I should go.” And not talk about sex anymore. “You need to rest.”

  “Not so fast, darling. Give me my closure.” Ava smiled faintly at the old joke. “I know you are not ready to stop punishing yourself yet. But it does not help you, and it does not help anyone else. You need to allow yourself some joy, some human connection again. Making a friend is a good start.”

  “I’ll try. But I’m pretty crappy company.”

  “Child of mine, you are never terrible except to yourself.” Ava yawned and sipped the tea. Maji waited for her final word, feeling stripped bare. Finally Ava delivered the advice, simple and clear as always. “Just don’t spit at kindness. And do what you do naturally—be a friend to one who needs you.”

  “Okay. Ava…I love you.” Tears blurred Maji’s view of her godmother. “Sleep tight.”

  Ava blew her a kiss. “Be well, darling. I look forward to an update.”

  * * *

  Resolved to not let Celeste down, Maji stopped into the security office. She watched as Santxo—head of security, as it turned out—perused her passport. Back at Fort Bragg, where her unit trained for missions and Joint Special Operations Command was headquartered, a variety of passports with her picture lived in a file along with other documents needed for any particular mission’s cover identity. This one did not match her military ID, which tagged her as Sergeant Ariela Rios of the US Army. This one only included the first and last of her legal names, Majida Ariela Kamiri Rios, all of which appeared on the passport her parents held for her at home in Brooklyn. But it would register as valid at any border, hotel, or casino.

  “Well, Ms. Rios,” Santxo said at last, handing the blue folder back, “we again sincerely apologize for the incident this morning. Please enjoy your supper, to include any food items. The bar and wine menu are, unfortunately, not included. I did my best, but…management.”

  “You’ve been more than generous. Thank you, Mr. Quintana.”

  “Santxo, please. We are friends now. I will see to it that no more patrons get strange ideas about you.”

  Maji smiled politely. The key to saving lives was her ability to be mistaken for someone else. Never a famous someone, though. That would be as stupid as tossing old men around the casino floor. “And I’ll try to be more restrained if they do. Have a good night.”

  “Ms. Rios.” His voice stopped her just as she reached the door.

  What now? She turned and gave him her relaxed-interested expression.

  “Your Spanish is excellent. Where did you learn it?”

  What a nice way of saying she had effectively erased most traces of Brooklyn and the many sounds of Central and Latin America that she grew up with. “At home, from my father. He is a Latino American, while I am an American Latina.”

  Santxo laughed good-naturedly. “But your first name. It sounds Middle Eastern.”

  “Lebanese,” she lied with practiced ease. “My mother’s parents loved Majida El Roumi. You know of her?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, no.”

  “A famous singer. Ironically, I can’t carry a tune. Erlea would be insulted if she heard about today.”

  “Then let’s keep it among ourselves, hmm?”

  Roger that, amigo.

  * * *

  Celeste waited in the lobby for Maji, shifting nervously from foot to foot. First she’d agonized over her paltry wardrobe choices, nothing seeming quite nice enough. Then she’d stressed about makeup, finally erring on the side of understated. Ridiculous to be so wound up over a simple dinner.

  It wasn’t as though she’d had no dates these past few months since leaving Marseilles—and Adrienne. She’d said yes to a mechanic on the cruise ship; and here at the Gran Balearico, she’d spent a nice enough evening with Reimi. But those encounters were shallow, out of character.

  Celeste jumped at Maji’s touch. “Where did you come from?”

  “Sorry to startle you,” Maji said. “Deep thoughts?”

  Celeste nodded, taking in her date. A bit casual for fine dining. But the sporty look suited her, the sun-highlighted thick brown hair pulled into a simple ponytail and her slacks and tailored shirt pressed. No makeup but a bit of shine on her lips, and…eyes too puffy and red for eyeliner and mascara to hold. Allergies or crying. “Are you quite fine, yourself?”

  “Finer by the minute.” Maji’s charming smile dimpled her cheeks, then faded. “I was on the phone with a friend who’s fighting cancer. I’m just worried for her, and feeling useless so far away.”

  Celeste found her honesty refreshing. “That is always hard. I do not know if my heart could handle oncology. The clients I see all have robust health and merely seek to perform their best. Sometimes it seems trivial by comparison.”

  “You prescribe a lot of Viagra?”

  Celeste laughed. “No, hardly. I work with athletes, dancers, and…sporting people.”

  “Cool. I want to hear all about that over supper. And I’m starving. You?”

  “Famished. I want to try everything on the menu.”

  Maji grinned. “Poor Santxo. I hope he’s still a good sport when he sees the bill.”

  When Celeste saw the prices on the menu, she hoped so, too. “The food might be marvelous, but I think this place is charging for atmosphere.”

  Maji looked around the dimly lit and tastefully designed restaurant from the overlook their cozy leather-backed enclave in the corner afforded. “It is romantic. But mostly I like that it’s quiet. I hate going out to eat and having to yell across the table.”

  “Well, it is very early yet, hardly dinnertime.” Celeste looked at her watch. “Later the loud tourists—the Americans and British and Germans—will go away and the Spaniards will lean in close to hold private conversations, like we French do.” She leaned toward Maji, feeling bolder than she had in months.

  “Are you flirting with me?” Maji’s expression didn’t give anything away.

&nb
sp; Celeste smiled. “That depends. Do you want me to?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of stopping you. You have a natural talent.”

  “Thank you. I thought I had lost the knack, for a while.”

  Maji looked thoughtful, like she was gauging the meaning behind Celeste’s words. “Out of practice?”

  “I stopped for a bit,” Celeste admitted. Not being pushed to talk about it made her want to, for the first time. Something about Maji’s manner elicited her trust. “Another issue with my ex. She was easily threatened. At first I thought her jealousy was sweet, but in time I realized it was just another way to try and control me.”

  “Here’s to freedom,” Maji said with a wry smile, lifting her water glass to toast.

  Celeste clinked it with her wineglass. “And respect. Are you sure I can’t buy you a drink?”

  “Nope. My budget could handle a cocktail here, if I really wanted one. But it’s never a great idea for me. We’ll both like me better sober.”

  Why did everything remind her of Adrienne tonight? “Your honesty is very refreshing. And your self-knowledge and consideration for others.”

  “Your ex must have set the bar for good behavior very low.” Maji didn’t ask, but she did look concerned.

  “I learned a lot of hard lessons—many about myself.” How to make such a long story short? “I will never again be with someone who thinks everything is about them, that their feelings count more, that they should not be held accountable for their actions. Drinking was only one of many excuses, none of which I should have listened to.”

  The first of a series of delectable tapas and small plates shifted their attention to happier topics, tales of favorite meals and travels and their hometowns. When they compared musical tastes, Maji shook her head. “I still can’t believe two strangers mistook me for Erlea in one day.”

  Celeste shrugged, feeling unusually content with her fully belly and second glass of wine. “Side by side you don’t look alike. But they’ve never seen her up close.”

  “So you mentioned.” Maji grinned her encouragement. “Spill.”

  “It was at a nightclub. Adrienne’s football team was celebrating making it to the semifinals, and she was ignoring me, so I started to dance by myself. When I went to get a drink, Erlea was at the bar getting a whole tray of shots for her band. She offered me one and complimented my free spirit.”

  “Nice.”

  Celeste shook her head. “Adrienne did not think so. After paying me no mind all night, she barged in and accused Erlea of trying to steal her girlfriend.”

  “Like you were her property?” Maji’s voice had become very flat.

  Celeste smiled at the contrast. “That’s what Erlea said.” Only she had sounded amused. “Well, she said, You cannot steal what no one owns. But if you won’t treat her right, someone else will. She was pretty buzzed, I think. They both were.”

  “Maybe so,” Maji replied. “But alcohol can’t make someone do or say things they don’t mean. It just takes away the inhibition.”

  “Then they also both share a violent nature. For a fight followed.”

  Maji looked skeptical. “Really? Who hit who?”

  “Actually, I left them at the bar and Adrienne followed me.” Celeste wasn’t sure she wanted to say the rest out loud. “She was…hurting me, and Erlea stopped her.”

  Maji reached over and took her hand. “Hey, you don’t have to relive it. We can talk about something else if you want.”

  “It’s okay,” Celeste said. And it was. “That was the only time she hurt me in public. But you are right, the alcohol only makes you feel free to do things you would like to do if you weren’t held back by what other people might think.”

  “Or having to live with the harm you’ve done, after you sober up.” Maji smiled crookedly and lifted her water glass.

  Celeste squeezed Maji’s comforting hand. “See, that is what makes you different from those celebrity types. You don’t think you can do whatever you want and get away with it.”

  Maji chuckled. “So you’re not planning to offer Erlea a second chance to treat you right, while she’s here?” Seeing Celeste’s deep blush, she nodded knowingly. “I’m just teasing. That’s my natural talent.”

  “I will forgive you, in exchange for dessert.”

  “Well, that’s easy. Done.” Maji waved for their server.

  Celeste withdrew her hand. “Are you calling me easy?”

  “I wouldn’t dare. But now I see how the flirting works. I’m going to study you until I get to be a natural, too.”

  And with that, they were back on safe ground. After coffee, Celeste glanced at her watch for the first time that evening. “Oh my God. I had no idea it was so late.”

  “You’re not on vacation. I should see you home.” Maji sounded penitent, not flirtatious.

  “It’s not a home. It’s a place for workers to sleep, those of us just here for the season.” Celeste thought of the hostel-like accommodations. The best she could offer this sweet woman was tea in the lounge. “Why don’t I walk you home, instead?”

  “Oh. I’m flattered, but…”

  Celeste felt a mix of relief and disappointment. “Not interested?”

  “I may kick myself later, but I think I need a friend as much as you do.”

  Celeste nodded. “You make an excellent friend. How about I walk you home and then take a cab back? I would love to see this yacht of yours.”

  Maji smiled at last, that delightful playfulness reemerging. “Prepare to be underwhelmed. She’s a pretty little sloop, but no yacht.”

  “I see. But do not worry yourself, we French are very stoic. I shall hide my disappointment at your lack of wealth and fame.”

  Maji signaled for the check. “Let’s waddle out, then.”

  Celeste laughed at Maji’s impersonation of a duck, and they walked arm in arm toward the waterfront. “Thanks for scoring us a great free meal,” Maji said. “And for real conversation.”

  “Thank you for listening and not judging me,” Celeste said. “I hid my troubles from my friends in Marseilles, never even told them when I ran away.” When Maji just gave her arm a friendly squeeze, she continued, “I tried once to tell my mother, but Adrienne had charmed her the way she did everyone. My mother just said that relationships take work, and I should try harder.”

  Maji snorted. “Bullshit. Sorry. I just hate it when people don’t believe the women in their lives. You deserve better.”

  Celeste stopped and pulled her into a hug, too emotional to speak. When they walked on again, she said, “I’m starting to know that again. It’s hard to blame others when even I didn’t want to believe it. How could that be me? I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. Educated, from a good family. A person who makes healthy decisions. At least, I used to be.”

  “She’s still in there, I’m sure,” Maji said. “Do you miss Marseilles?”

  Spotting the harbor, Celeste noted, “When I took the cruise ship job, I thought I would love life on the water. But it turns out I prefer life near the water.” They stopped and leaned on the rail by the water, watching the boats rock gently in their slips. A picture of peace and safety. “This job at the Balearico will do for now. Until I know who I am again, and where I want to be.”

  Maji put a comforting arm around her waist. She was small, but clearly strong and very warm as well. “I haven’t been through what you have, but everybody’s got their demons. My godmother is a therapist, and I don’t know if I’d be standing here today without her support.”

  Celeste pressed a kiss to Maji’s cheek. “Then I am very thankful to her.”

  Chapter Three

  “Get off,” a woman cried, struggling to break free.

  Maji held on tight, keeping her eyes shut against the smoke and dust. She had to get them all out, ignore the panic, the noise.

  “Maji. Let me go,” the woman insisted. “You’re hurting me.”

  Maji opened her eyes, recognized the boat, a woman’s face. No camp, n
o gunfire, no… She opened both hands and let Celeste’s sweaty skin slide from her grasp. In the little bit of moonlight from the V-berth hatch, she saw the glint of Celeste’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Maji stuttered. “How did…?”

  “You were yelling and banging yourself on the walls.” Celeste’s expression held a too familiar mix of fear and pity.

  “Why are you here?” Maji asked. “Didn’t you go home?”

  “Yes. But I realized I left my keycard behind, so I called you. You were slurring your words, and I was worried. You wouldn’t tell me what you took, but your vitals were steady. So I helped you to lie down and took the little bunk to stay nearby.”

  And now you want me to thank you. “Oh. Sorry.”

  “I am happy to help.” Celeste looked so earnest. Ugh. “But now tell me, please, what did you take?”

  Not enough. Florence Nightingale should have left her alone. She was too fucking tired for this shit.

  “I said, what did you take?” Celeste’s hand forced Maji’s chin toward the sound of her voice.

  Too loud. Too bright. “Shh.” Maji tried to brush Celeste’s hand away. Stronger than she looked. Damn.

  “Fine. Stay put. There is daylight now.” Celeste rummaged through the main cabin, swearing softly. Nosy.

  Maji curled into a ball and pulled the pillow over her head. Ah, darkness. Someone grabbed her ankle and tugged. She reared up, trying to grab her attacker, and smacked her head on the low ceiling. “Fuck!”

  “Please, stop. You are hurting yourself.”

  Oh, Celeste again. Looking worried and angry. “Sorry.”

  “Get out here.” She held the pill bottle in her hand. “How many did you take?”

  “Two. One stopped working.”

  “Working to do what? Kill you?” Celeste swore quietly in French and forced Maji’s face toward her again. “Open your eyes.”

  “Hurts.”

  “Too bad. I must look. Let me examine you, dammit.”

  Maji took a deep breath and tried to find her center. It kept moving. She took another slow breath and opened her eyes. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”