Elude (7 page)

But the smell.

The smell of expensive cologne tipped me off.

Sergio, with all his anger issues, always had a tell. He wore
Versace
and he had a weakness for expensive everything.

I'd never been the type of girl to like cologne. It seemed overpowering and fake. It reminded me of stuffy overweight men in suits, smoking cigars and talking about crime.

But on Sergio?

Well, let's just say I had a brief fantasy where we starred in our very own cologne commercial, jet-setting across the world in fast cars and yachts.

Oh, and my bathing suit was black and awesome.

And I wasn't sick.

I was healthy and swimming in the ocean.

Damn. I missed the ocean.

I blinked against the darkness blanketing the room and held tight to Sergio as he slowly lowered me to the mattress.

My teeth chattered, not because I was cold, but because I wasn't sure what to expect. Would he try anything with me? Or would the idea actually repulse him?

I tucked my knees up or at least tried to, but Sergio jerked my legs back down.

"What?" I tried to get up on my elbows but was too weak.

"Lie down, Andi. Sleep."

"But you—"

"Sleep," he said in a gruff voice as he removed my shoes then very slowly turned me on my side and began unzipping my dress.

"Are you—"

"Going to take advantage of a sick tired girl?" He finished. "No, Andi. I'm not that guy."

"Bummer," I joked.

I could have sworn I heard him laugh; then again, I was teetering on the edge of passing out from exhaustion. So, in my weakened state, I probably thought Ryan Gosling was taking his place.

The cool air bit at my skin as he slowly pulled it down over my feet. I shivered and reached for the blankets, but was once again lifted into the air.

"Warning, next time a warning," I gasped as my cold skin met his heat.

For a second his eyes met mine. It felt important, that moment, like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how.

I blinked. I had to. I mean, people blinked in real life. But, because I blinked, we broke eye contact. And the moment disappeared like it hadn't happened in the first place.

He carefully set me in between the satin sheets and pulled the down comforter over me.

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Here." He set a brand new cell phone on the nightstand. "Text me if you need anything…"

"Are you leaving?"

"I'm going to go… downstairs," he said in a hard voice. "Don't text me unless you're dying."

"Ha ha." I yawned. "Not yet, Sergio. You're not that lucky."

"No…" he said in a low voice. "I'm really not."

Something told me we weren't talking about my death anymore, but I couldn't stay awake any longer. I succumbed to sleep and dreamed of my faceless knight with dark hair.

At least in my dreams.

He was real.

Sergio

I SAT AT THE KITCHEN TABLE
, tapping my fingers against the tumbler full of whiskey, irritated that my thoughts kept straying to the girl upstairs lying in my bed.

Her white-blond hair had looked like spun silver in the moonlight, and I'd wanted to tangle my hands in it just to see if it felt as soft as it looked, but the minute I'd leaned down, it was like my mind went into shutdown mode, telling me, yet again, that it would be a bad idea.

So I'd jerked back, and nearly pulled her off the bed in my attempt to get her dress off.

Not how I pictured a wedding night going.

I wasn't tired — I was exhausted. But my eyes refused to give in to sleep; instead, I tilted the tumbler back and drank deeply.

"This how all Sicilians celebrate?" a dark voice echoed in the kitchen.

I bit back a snarl. "Nicolai… I don't think we've formally met."

"No." He pulled out a barstool next to me then reached for a glass and poured himself a double. "I don't believe the honor of my handshake has been bestowed upon you just yet."

I rolled my eyes.

"Saw that."

"Wasn't trying to hide my disdain."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a small sickle tattoo on his left wrist Disgust rolled throughout my body. I knew what it meant. Knew what it represented. The Russian mafia marked its men in plain sight, unlike my family; we marked ourselves where only we could see. It was a humility thing.

There was nothing humble about the Russians.

It was laughable to even think about it. Then again, sitting at the table with a Russian was just as hilarious. Hell, I'd married one. Damn me.

"You'll protect her…" He licked his lips and turned his dark menacing eyes toward me. "…or I'll cut you from belly to chin."

"Doctors and their toys," I muttered.

"I'm excellent at hiding bodies — even better at causing pain but not allowing you to scream it out. I like my victims to suffer in silence."

"How…" I arched an eyebrow. "…utterly poetic."

"Sometimes I listen to classical music while doing it." He smirked.

"That's very Hollywood of you."

"Makes it feel less horrific."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes, both sipping our drinks, refusing to make eye contact.

Finally, when I couldn't take it anymore, I asked the question I'd been dreading all night. "Why are you really here? Clearly, her father isn't aware you're helping us — and I saw you talking to Phoenix earlier."

"I wasn't trying to hide the fact that I need a favor."

"We've already done enough for you," I spat.

"No." He shrugged. "This is more… personal."

My eyes narrowed. "How so?"

"Andi's safe." He frowned. "At least as safe as she's going to be with the likes of you. But others in her family? They're still in danger. I just need the right kind of information in order to save them."

"And when you say them?"

"I mean her."

"Her is who?"

"I keep my secrets well." He grinned. "Do I have your word?"

"You haven't told me anything."

"About Andi," he said slower this time, methodical, as if I was a slow learner.

Then again the booze was starting to do the trick. Already my hands felt heavy, my eyes burned with the need to close off the world and succumb to the darkness of sleep.

"I'll protect her."

"Good." Nicolai let out a breath. "Because her father won't be happy she's disappeared. She's no longer useful to him now that Director Smith is dead, now that her brother is dead. She's…." He sighed.

"A very loose end," I finished.

"She's as good as dead if she gets into the wrong hands."

I fought the urge to bang my head against the granite. "She's already dying."

"A fact you keep reminding her of." He tilted his head. "I wonder why?"

"Because." That was all I had. Because. Weeks ago, I could have talked the guy under the table and convinced him he was an escaped ostrich from the zoo. Now? All I had was
because
. Damn, I was broken.

Nicolai stood, a smile forming across his lips. "You're not trying to convince her." He tilted his head. "You're trying to convince you."

"What?" I snapped.

"Keep saying it, then maybe one day you'll believe it enough to keep your distance, to keep your hands off of her. But my guess?" He chuckled darkly. "You've already followed the rabbit. Careful when you jump. There won't be anyone there but Andi to break your fall, and something tells me that's exactly what you don't want."

"Go to hell." My voice was hoarse, unsteady, basically telling him exactly what he claimed he already knew.

She could be a potential weakness for me.

And I hated weakness.

I hated it in others, but I especially hated it in myself.

"Good talk." Nicolai stood and pulled out a business card. "If you ever find yourself in Seattle, or if you need good surgeon."

I glanced at the white card with the red embossed letters.

"JR? What's that stand for?"

He shrugged. "Family crest." Without another word, his light footsteps echoed across the floor. He made it to the hall then turned, his expression one of pity. "You know… when this is all over… I can make you forget it even happened."

My eyes narrowed as dread trickled down my spine. "You'll have to be more straight-up with me. I don't speak doctor."

"When she dies…" He said it softly. "…which she will… have no doubt about it… call me if you… find that that stony heart of yours actually cares about that girl upstairs. The least I can do is help you forget the pain, help you forget everything."

My hand trembled against the glass. "Is that what you really do? Brainwash people? Break them? Make them forget?"

He inclined his dark head. "Have a good night, Sergio. And remember my promise. Sometimes pain, especially that of a broken heart, is best forgotten."

"Thanks, but my heart's just fine."

His eyes said he knew otherwise.

My damn erratic heartbeat concurred.

I wanted to smash my hand into his face.

Instead, I saluted him with my middle finger and ripped his card in half.

With one last dark chuckle, he moved down the hall. Finally, the sound of the front door clicking shut gave way to absolute, blissful silence.

The exhaustion that had earlier been creeping in was gone. And in its place, extreme paranoia that Nicolai saw me better than I saw me — that he knew my secrets, he knew my fears, and in the end, he knew I'd come calling. Because the very last thing I wanted…

Was to break.

I'd already lost so much.

It seemed unfair that she'd be the final catalyst of my downfall.

Rubbing my eyes with the backs of my hands, I moved away from the bar and padded down to my office.

I clicked on the lamp at my desk and went to work.

I'd just married someone who I needed to make disappear. With a sigh, I cracked my neck and placed my hands on the keyboard.

Passport first.

License second.

Marriage license third.

And I went to town. This, I could lose myself in. Numbers, I could do. Hacking was something I could probably do with my eyes closed.

I fixed, and I fixed, and I fixed.

When I was finished, I should have felt better. Instead, I felt worse, because the whole time I'd been creating a new identity for her, I'd felt, somewhere in the back of my exhausted brain, that I was simultaneously losing my own.

Who was I anymore?

What was my purpose outside of paying back my family for all my secrets? My lies?

I glanced down at the black folder Phoenix had placed on my desk a few days ago…

"Read it," he ordered slamming it onto my desk.

"I'll pass." I pushed it away with one of my pens, and for a brief minute contemplated throwing it into the fire. "There's nothing in there I don't already know about myself."

"Ha!" Phoenix chuckled "You have no freaking clue, Sergio. No clue."

"Maybe I like it that way." The black folder seemed to elevate toward me, tempting me, taunting me. "Being in the dark."

"Trust me, you won't. You don't." He nodded toward the folder. "Everyone has secrets… how do you know this isn't so much about yours… but someone else's entirely?"

That piqued my interest. "I thought it was my folder? The one that Luca kept on me in order to keep my balls within his grasp."

"I didn't say it wasn't."

"Phoenix." I said his name like a curse. "How about you just tell me what's in it so I don't have to read."

"It's better it come from him."

"He's dead!" I yelled.

Phoenix hung his head. "I'm well aware that Luca, one of the greatest men I've ever known, is no longer breathing, but that doesn't mean he still can't reach his creepy ass hand out of the grave and give us a bit of a… surprise."

"I freaking hate surprises," I muttered.

Phoenix laughed. "Well put your party hat on, my friend, because it's about to get real."

"And it's been what?" I leaned back in my chair. "A cakewalk all up until now? Do you even realize how many times we've almost gone to war with other families in the past two years? How many lives have been lost? How many lies I've told?" My voice was getting louder and louder. I couldn't help myself, I was pissed. It wasn't Phoenix's fault. Hell, the guy had more of a reason to be pissed than I did, and there he was, passing out top-secret folders and smiling.

Jackass.

His wife probably had something to do with it; well that, and they had a baby on the way. Lucky bastard.

"Read the folder," he said again, then tapped his knuckles against my desk. "And try to get some sleep. You look like hell."

"You do realize I used to say the same thing to you not so long ago."

"Karma's a bitch." His snarky reply as he slammed the door to my office, leaving me alone with the folder
.

I reached for it, but something stopped me, something that felt a hell of a lot like fear.

Fear that Luca had known things that I'd done — things I still hadn't 'fessed up about.

The bodies I'd hidden for the FBI. The ones I'd hidden from them.

The people I'd killed, all because it had been my damn job.

And the families I'd destroyed all in order to save my own ass.

I knew I was a selfish bastard; I just didn't want others to know how deep that selfishness went.

Deciding against it, I pushed away from my desk and got out of my office before I did something stupid.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I hurried into my room then froze. Shit. Andi was sleeping in my bed.

I had at least twenty-two other rooms I could sleep in — I lived in a mansion, for shit's sake.

But my bed.

She was in my bed.

FML. Seriously.

I had two choices. I could get my head out of my ass and walk backward, slowly out of the room, and crash somewhere else.

Or I could watch her sleep like the creepy son of a bitch I was… no way I would actually be able to succumb to sleep if I was next to her.