“Dr. Yassan!”
She glanced toward the voice and spotted the woman she was meeting for lunch. Destiny climbed out of a town car that had pulled over to the curb behind where Kira’s rideshare had stopped. A driver in black held the door for the woman and then closed it behind her.
Kira waited for the woman to saunter over in her own heels, a light-pink dress highlighting her thin frame. “Mrs. Rousseau.”
The other woman kissed her cheek. “Please, it’s far past time you call me Destiny.”
She probably didn’t intend to intimidate Kira. Destiny was who she was, and one could argue that was a good thing for the world, given the work she did. But Kira would always be the scrawny girl from Iran, growing up in South London in a small house with far too many people taking up space. Always looking for ways to make herself as small as possible. Walking an hour to the library and back by herself, usually with a backpack of books.
That isn’t who you are now.
Kira had a prestigious position as the head of the emergency department at Renegade Mercy General Hospital, and her work all over the world had saved lives.
Kind of like this woman she was meeting.
“Let’s go inside.” Destiny led the way to the doors, which opened thanks to a maître d’ holding the door for them.
The older man wore all black, slacks and a shirt, and had a mustache threaded with gray across his upper lip. “Good afternoon, ladies.”
Destiny spoke over her shoulder. “We have a reservation. At my usual table.” She grinned in Kira’s direction. “I’ve been here twice a week since they opened!”
Kira smiled, following her acquaintance—she wouldn’t go so far as to call Destiny a friend—into the restaurant, all the way to a table at the far end. A place of prominence, where at least six people could sit. But no one else was joining them. Despite the fact there were only two of them, this was where they were going to have lunch.
Hopefully without Destiny using it as a photo opportunity to build buzz for her foundation.
Kira would certainly look the part, with these wide-leg slacks and the gold blouse she had tucked in. Assimilating and blending in anywhere in the world, no matter the situation, was one of her skills. She had been using the art of camouflage this way for years. And thankfully, lately it wasn’t to keep herself safe.
Her life wasn’t in danger here.
She settled her purse on the seat beside her and surreptitiously reached up to run a finger across the scar just above her left eyebrow. No amount of plastic surgery had been able to completely remove the daily reminder of that refugee camp in Northern Syria. No matter where she went or who she became, it would always be with her.
Reminding her of what was real, just in case she ever forgot.
She didn’t have to be a vapid doctor with no care for people and an inflated pride in having power over life and death. She could be more than what a lot of doctors became. So she’d traded that kind of career for refugee camps and outbreaks and finding heroes who made her want to help the world be a better place.
Now she was in yet another fresh start, and it was high time to figure out where she fit here.
Kira cleared her throat. “What’s good here?”
“Oh, just about everything. But they have the most divine oysters.” Destiny settled a pair of reading glasses onto her nose and peered at the menu. “I try to order something different every time though. It’s not good to get into a rut.”
Kira swallowed back honesty. “That sounds like an adventurous way to live.”
And didn’t that just make her sound incredibly pathetic? All she did was work at the hospital and read books at home, mostly watching church services online when she could, or listening to podcasts.
What was an everyday occurrence for this woman and her high-society lifestyle was probably going to be the highlight of Kira’s week—and her social life for the month.
Destiny laughed lightly. “If you want an adventurous life, Renegade, Colorado, is probably not the place to find it.”
“I’ve lived in enough spots in the world with far too much adventure. Finding somewhere with just enough life to be interesting suits me just fine.”
Hopefully that didn’t sound too much like she was hiding from real life.
When the server had taken their orders, Destiny said, “This city used to be so backward. Now that more people have moved here, we actually have some semblance of a downtown and society life. Otherwise, I would have moved away a long time ago.” Destiny took a sip of her ice water. “But I still take every chance I can to go on trips with my husband.”
“How is Ralph doing?” They’d never discussed the fact he had been kidnapped and shot months ago, and Destiny probably wasn’t going to mention it now. Or the fact he hadn’t been brought to the hospital where Kira worked—he’d been flown to Denver and treated at a private facility. He’d been back in Renegade nearly two months, surprisingly well recovered for a man who’d been gut-shot.
Kira knew from previous conversations they’d had that Ralph was currently out on bail and had been extensively interviewed, first by the police and then by the FBI, during his recovery. Despite paperwork implicating him in shady business, his team of high-priced lawyers were arguing he was the victim of a crime. That he’d been framed for all the land grabbing, harassment, and sabotage that had been going on in Renegade, and was only an overeager real-estate developer.