Like a Fox (18 page)

Chapter 22

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

I roll my eyes, “Yes.”

Vic kisses my nose, “As cute as I find it when you get cheeky with me, I need you to stay professional and to listen to me even if I’m ordering you. Both our lives depend on it.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Let’s start over.” I put on my most sober face, but add a little bit of defiance in the tiny smirk I wear just to mess with him and how serious he always is.

Vic smiles at my mockery. It’s an actual smile that reaches his eyes and he laughs, kissing my nose again.

“You have the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.” I scrunch his shirt in my fists, tugging him closer, and I kiss the hell out of him, overcome with my first genuine smile. This is a huge step forward; I’ve finally put a crack in his exterior.

Vic pulls pack from our kiss with a warning, “Freya, you can’t do that. We’re partners right now, not lovers.”

“So we’re married,” I deadpan.

Vic tries to conceal another smile, “Exactly.”

He has me repeat the plan back to him one more time. Since we landed and found a hotel, we’ve been spending our time with sex, sleep, planning, breakfast, more sex, and finalizing our plan, in that exact order.

After Vic is somewhat convinced I remember everything he told me, we go up the street a few blocks to a salon for my scheduled appointment. As soon as I’m in the chair, Vic is explaining to the hairstylist exactly how he wants the updo to be. Not overly done, but not basic either. It can’t be sexy, and it can’t be young and prom-like. Sophisticated yet unmemorable. When the stylist shares her ideas and Vic is satisfied, he steps back to the wall to observe.

“Is he always that bossy?” The stylist tries to joke low into my ear, but concern is clear in her eyes as she gets to work.

“He likes things a certain way,” I explain, aware how bad that sounds. I know she’s worried that I’m some poor, innocent girl who found herself a man that controls and manipulates her.

I receive a pity frown from my brush off. I don’t blame her, I would be the same. I can’t exactly tell her the real reason he’s being so specific with my looks. I can’t be like “Hey, no worries, my boyfriend and I are just going to a charity event where we plan on killing a man, so he has to make sure I’ll blend in, ‘kay? No biggie.” Yeah…it’s definitely better if she thinks I’m in a controlling relationship.

Next we find me a dress at some boutique that has the most exquisite clothes. I could spend hours touching the silky fabrics and admiring their sleek silhouettes. After trying on a few we decide on mauve purple with a low back and flowing bottom half so it would be easy to move in if need be and not constricting. He has me keep on my grandma’s diamond earrings that I always wear, as they are in his words, “classy yet understated.”

The last step is getting my makeup done at the Chanel cosmetics store right next to the boutique. Vic is just as specific here with how he wants me to look, but the woman here finds it sweet.

“Now we go get Bones, who will escort you,” Vic informs me after he pays.

“Who’s that?” I ask as our driver opens the door to the limo Vic ordered and has arrived at precisely the right time (which Vic specified quite clearly). I already knew that Vic wouldn’t be the one to stay with me at the event. He knows some of the people who will be attending and they would be curious as to why he’s there.

“A nickname I gave him based on the state I found him in when he refused to give me his real name. Now that’s all anybody calls him.”

“Why would he do this for you?”

“He owes me a favor and he needs the money,” Vic states like it’s that simple. “You ready?”

No. “Yup.”

Having sensed my lie, he places a hand on my shoulder, “Bones can go this alone, he’s up for the challenge.”

I carry out the conversation we’ve had numerous times since arriving as Vic tries to find ways to not involve me, “But didn’t you say that everyone has dates at these kinds of events?”

“Yes, but there’s always the few who don’t.”

“Won’t that draw attention to him?”

“Yes.”

I feel like a broken record as we repeat words spoken already today in the hotel room, “Isn’t attention the opposite of what we want to pull this off?”

“Yes,” Vic answers, like I’m the one in charge and I need him ready.

I give my most encouraging smile, “Well, then I really don’t see much choice.”

Vic looks past me with a frown, “No, I suppose there isn’t.”

Chapter 23

“Wow!” I exclaim, rolling down the limo’s window and sticking my head out for a better view of the apartments before me. According to Vic it’s the Tribeca neighborhood, which means nothing to me as I’m not familiar with anything in New York City other than Central Perk (and that’s not even real), but if I had to guess, it’s one of the more expensive areas. I can tell this building in particular is exorbitantly priced by the doorman out front, the well-cared-for greenery, and the huge open windows all around it, giving it a holier-than-thou presence.

“Are you sure he needs the money?” I turn my head to Vic, pointing my thumb to the building. I’m referring to Bones, who we are picking up at this building. If Vic says Bones has plans to buy a yacht I’m going to punch him.

Vic leans across me to roll my window back up, “This isn’t his place.”

“Oh.” At first I don’t ask whose it is, but after a few seconds I change my mind, curiosity getting the best of me, “Whose is it?”

“My sister’s,” he nonchalantly replies as he pulls out his phone, bringing it to his ear.

“If she ever stays with us then we’re returning the favor and coming here!” I can’t help but declare. I’m not normally one who does a favor for a favor, but how could I turn down an opportunity to stay here? I haven’t even seen the inside but it doesn’t matter, I can hardly wait to come back.

“Anytime,” Vic says in all seriousness, shifting his attention to whomever answered the other line. “We’re here.”

We watch through the tinted windows in silence. I try to calm my nerves, not sure who will be walking out the lobby door. After the people I met yesterday at Cole Private Bank and Trust, he could be scarred and scary, or devastatingly handsome. Both make me just as nervous.

A man in a fitted black tuxedo exits the building. “Is that him?”

Vic doesn’t answer, so I can presume it is.

Bones is nothing like what I was expecting from my wild imagination. He’s young, maybe my age or a little younger. It’s hard to tell because he has one of those youthful faces with old soul eyes, so he could really be forty. Bones walks like a person unsure of himself and on edge as he fidgets with whatever is in his pockets and darts his head all around like he’s expecting someone to jump out at him.

The limo driver has the door open when Bones approaches and he ducks his head in, looking back and forth between Vic and I before stepping in and sitting in the seat across from me.

I almost gasp, because up close this man has the most exquisite pair of green eyes I have ever seen. I truly didn’t believe green eyes like this existed on a person. I took a trip to Ireland last year, and they remind me of their plush green hills, so rich and vivid with color. To accentuate Bones’s boyish features, he has freckles sprinkled along his nose and cheekbones that have a pinkish glow to them.

“It’s been a fucking long time, man,” Bones says, scooting in next to Vic, placing the satchel he had over his shoulders down between his feet. “How the fuck you’ve been?”

Vic has worry in his tone as he examines him, “I’m more concerned about you.”

“Fuck man,” the man-boy chuckles, scrubbing his face with hands that are all man. “I’m still trying to work through my shit, but I can’t fucking complain.”

If this were a drinking game based on how many times this man says the f-word, we’d all be plastered one minute into it.

“You see Vikki recently?” Vic asks, still examining him from top to bottom like he expects to find something.

“Shit yeah,” the man-boy vigorously nods his head, almost like a tick that he can’t stop once he starts. “That girl’s real fucking tight. Checks in with me every fuckin’ week, by phone or sometimes in fuckin’ person.”

“Mm,” Vic nods his head in approval. “You eating?”

“All the fucking time,” Bones motions down his body. “Can’t you fucking tell? Shit man, I didn’t even know my fucking stomach
had
muscles. I thought that shit was only good for cushioning my fucking ribs.”

“Good,” Vic nods once more. He changes gears, his features becoming just as straight as his body. “You get everything I asked for?”

Man-boy bends down, unzipping the top of his duffel, “Almost didn’t. Fucking list like that with only twenty-four hours’ notice? You’re lucky half this shit was already in your sister’s place.”

Bones starts pulling things out, handing them off to Vic. The first is a slim black laptop about the size of a notebook. Next is some other equipment I don’t recognize in the slightest, a gun, something small I can’t see, another gun, and as he pulls out more things I can’t place, he talks into the bag, his left leg continually bouncing as he does, “That your girl?”

“Yes,” Vic answers as he inspects everything he’s handed. Some he places between them and others on his lap or the floor.

Man-boy hands off what looks like a sniper rifle, “She’s pretty.”

Vic takes it with a gleam in his eyes like he’s being reacquainted with a long lost lover. “I agree.”

Once the bag is empty, man-boy glances my way, rubbing his palm a few times on the front of his suit jacket before extending it out to me, “Bones.”

I accept his hand with a friendly smile, “Freya.”

He cracks a smile and it brings out the childish quality of his features, “You as fucking nervous as I am?”

“I’m about the most nervous I’ve ever been.”

He does his vigorous head nod again, “Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah, gets the blood pumping. It’ll help you run faster if shit hits the fucking fan,” he says it so seriously, like there’s a high probability it will happen.

I look to Vic with worry over Bones’s certainty. He shakes his head at Bones like a father would to his misbehaving son, “Don’t listen to him Freya, he’s messing with you. If we stick to the plan it will all go smoothly.”

Bones gives me lopsided smile, “It’s true man, I’m just fucking with you.”

“Thanks. That’s reassuring,” I grumble, questioning Vic’s choice in a partner for tonight.

Bones only smiles his charming adolescent smile and Vic’s preoccupied with his pile of loot.

As we approach the venue for the event we go over the plan again, this time Bones being the one to affirm that he has it memorized.

We have to wait behind a line of limos, and Vic takes the opportunity to move next to me. “Last chance to back out?”

I meet his eyes and give a firm, “Nope.”

“Okay.” He takes my hand and kisses the top as to not mess up my makeup. “Remind me when this is over to always take you places where you can look as beautiful as you do tonight.”

I blush from the way he’s staring at me, like I truly am the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, “I can remember that.” I smile at him and I almost get a smile in return, but he’s too focused on the night.

Vic has me take his seat next to Bones so he can stay concealed when the door opens. He looks to Bones, who is now right next to me, “She’s your main priority, above all else tonight.”

Bones jingles the change in his pocket, both legs bouncing, “Fuck, man, didn’t even need to remind me.”

Vic gives him a stern expression, “Still needed to say it.”

Bones watches his feet tap, “I get it.”

The limo finally makes it to the front, and Bones and I double check that we have what we need on us before exiting. As we leave, Vic takes hold of my arm, forcing me to give him my full attention, “Let Bones do the dirty work. No matter what happens, no matter how intense it may get.”

I swallow down my nerves and can only manage a nod.

Vic loosens his grip, sliding his hand down my arm to my hand and giving it one last kiss.

The limo door opens for us and I let out a big, shaky breath, knowing its only steady breathing from here on out.

Chapter 24

Bones is waiting as I leave the safety of the limo with an elbow extended for me to take. I smile a thank you the way Vic had me rehearse, like I’m smiling to be polite but I had fully been expecting such treatment.

I must admit I was worried about Bones pulling this off from how jittery he was in the vehicle, but he’s a completely different person than the one inside that limo.  He has stopped his fidgeting and his posture matches those of every gentleman here.

Across the front of the building is a huge sign announcing its cause for Skin Cancer Awareness, hosted by Zanerick Pharmaceuticals.

My grip tightens around Bones’ arm as nervous anxiety kicks in.

“Relax. Your only job is to be my beautiful date tonight,” Bones’ soothing voice tells me in my ear. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

Bones gives his fake name for the night at the entrance and indicates me as his plus one. Directly past that we’re inspected by guards with metal detectors. I feel my forehead and scalp beginning to moisten with sweat as I hand over my evening bag that holds the poison in a tube of lipstick. Bones also has some on him as mine is for backup, but I never got to see where he is keeping it. All the weapons got left behind with Vic, only there for extreme emergencies.

I lift my arms for the guard to scan my body. My heart is beating at an accelerated pace. I fear it might be heard by anybody close by, which currently happens to be the event’s security. I watch the other guard unclasp the top of my clutch as moisture pulls at the nape of my neck.

It doesn’t take long and I have to consciously not breathe out my relief when they let us pass, handing back my clutch with a smile and an “enjoy your evening, ma’am.”

We circulate, smiling politely as we pass others who are draped in diamonds and smothered in expensive fabric. The large event room is lit by chandeliers and wall sconces, casting a romantic glow on the evening. The tables are lined with silk linens and the centerpieces are beautiful arrangements of various orange flowers with twigs spiraling out. It’s an intimate setting; one I’d be more comfortable sharing with Vic.

Bones and I have to wait out most of night to put our plan into action and each minute feels like thirty to pass. We lazily sip champagne like this is a typical evening for us. I’ve noticed Bones’s muscles stiffen whenever someone gets too close, even though he tries to hide it.

“We need to look as though we’re enjoying ourselves,” Bones whispers low, as though we are sharing an intimate conversation, his hand resting on my lower back. “It’s time to dance.”

The intimacy of being so close to him has us both uncomfortable, for me mostly because I can sense how uneasy it makes him. I don’t want to outright ask why the closeness of others bothers him, so instead I ask my other curious questions in hopes it will give me more insight into the man Vic has trusted with my life. I bring my expertly painted nude pink lips near his ear, to give the impression I’m delivering a more sensual message if others were to see us, “What did Vic do for you that he asked for your help and trusted you enough to stay quiet about it?”

Bones immediately answers, “He freed me.”

My head ticks back, “Freed you?”

He looks down at me and I can’t tell if he doesn’t want to answer or if he’s just contemplating how he will answer me. He finally seems to decide. His eyes soften, adding innocence to his already youthful face, and the depths behind them reach a part of me that believes his loyalty without having to hear his reasoning. I get one anyway.

Bones lifts his gaze to the room, as though he can’t speak his mind directly to me, “There are some men who are imprisoned for breaking the law, and there are others who are imprisoned as slaves. He saved me from both. For that, I owe him my life.”

“But it’s me you’re helping,” I remind him.

“I disagree,” Bones says with a shake of the head, “You
are
his life, and therefore you two are the same in my eyes.”

“That’s very honorable.”

A grim-faced Bones responds in a subdued, distant voice, “For what he did for me he deserves nothing less.”

I want to ask how Vic saved him but know that’s not my place.

The conversation is quickly forgotten when I spot the man we are after weaving through the crowd.

“He’s here,” I mumble, barely moving my lips.

Bones leads me on the dance floor, gracefully turning so he can get a better view.

We dance through another song and I can’t get over how well Bones dances, knowing all the various embellishments and leading me so I don’t have to worry about not having a clue of where to step or what to do. The whole time I try desperately not to let my eyes search for our man, a mister Robert Blackwell. I pretend I’m enjoying the man I’m dancing with. I picture Vic, hoping it makes my face shine like a woman in love.

The MC requests that we make our way to our tables, and that means we are that much closer to the end game.

“Where did you learn to dance like that?” I ask as Bones escorts me off the dance floor.

A darkness shadows his bright green eyes, “Another life. One I try to forget.”

As we take our seats, I happen to peer up and am stunned to the point that my ass is frozen halfway to meeting my chair as I gawk.

Vikki is across the room sitting at a table of her own, looking polished in a form fitting black dress and bright red lips. She spots me at the exact same time I do her. She doesn’t seem as stunned to see me as she allows the man behind her to push her chair in. She doesn’t offer me any kind of acknowledgment and goes back to greeting the patrons around her, conversing with them.

I pull it together and allow Bones to finish sliding my chair in. I force myself to look away from her and chant inside my head “I must not seek her out tonight.” I don’t want anybody to see me watching her for even a moment. I know that’s paranoia, but I don’t care. I’ve never been in a situation like this before and I haven’t a clue the best way to handle it, so I’ve decided on ignoring the matter altogether. I don’t even tell Bones, not wanting to draw attention to her.

I expected the small talk at our table to be painful, but that’s not the case at all. They all have a decade or two on Bones and I and therefore have bountiful amounts of stories to tell that help the time to go by and distract me from having panic attacks over what we are about to do. Nobody notices that Bones and I hardly touch our dinners.

After the meal is taken away and we are almost done with dessert, a woman in her mid-forties steps up to the stage and we all listen to her fundraising speech. I tune her out, getting reassuring leg squeezes from Bones, which surprisingly brings me comfort.

“So get your pocketbooks ready folks, and let the bidding begin!” She shouts when she is done.

Bones and I make our way to the silent auction along with the rest of the tables. I pretend to take my time inspecting certain ones as though I’m interested. There is only one I’m here for, the same one Bones is making his way towards, trying to make it so we arrive there at roughly the same time. It is for a sailboat. Vic is certain Robert Blackwell will end up there, as sailing is his passion and he loves any opportunity to brag about the extravagancies he can afford.

Vikki comes up next to me while I’m pretending to be reading about a trip to Paris. She bends down, writing down a bid, mumbling low for only me to hear, “I know why you’re here. You need to leave.”

I speak just as low, “Once it’s done, I will.”

She rises back up, “I assume my brother dearest is here?”

“In the limo.”

She hands the pen off to me with a fake smile, “Of course. Wouldn’t want these men to think he was back in the family business.”

My next words pop out, “Are you?”

“I play many roles. Only one of them is who I truly am.” Vikki brushes past me, and with a sneer under her breath says, “My brother better not die over this.”

I try not to laugh over our encounter and how cryptic/spiteful she always is towards me. I cough into my hand to conceal a smile, regaining my cool. As I bring my hand down I notice
he’s
right next to me, retrieving a glass of champagne from a waitress walking by. He examines what’s up for auction next to me and places the glass between us.

This would be the perfect opportunity to sneak the Memphis84 in. I look around for Bones, who is still making his way to the sailboat table. I slyly try to get Bones’ attention but a woman has captured it first. She is obviously flirting with him. You’d think she’d take a clue he isn’t interested with how stiff-as-a-board he has become and his constipated looking grimace while he looks around for an escape. His hand starts jingling change in his pocket. I’ve seen him do this a few times. It must be what he does to calm himself. Maya keeps a rock in her pocket she rubs when she gets anxious.

He’s
still there, debating if he should make a bid. The opportunity is too perfect. I don’t give myself much time to debate, knowing I’ll chicken out.

Throughout the whole evening my heart has been beating a mile a minute, but that’s nothing compared to the way it’s thumping now. The blood is now ringing in my ears to the point I might pass out before I’ve even attempted anything.

First, with a surprisingly steady hand, I set down my own glass of champagne next to his, so close they almost touch. Next, I remove my “lipstick” from my clutch, along with a compact. I twist and the pink nude of my lipstick appears at the same time the bottom opens. The Memphis84 tube drops into my hand. I make sure my fingers are safely wrapped around it so it won’t slip out or be seen. I pretend to double check that my lipstick is in place and for a fraction of a second my hand shakes. I scold myself and with everything that I have force it to stop. Preventing my hand from shaking is about one of the hardest things I have ever done. I’m not joking. It takes willpower and definite mind-over-matter control.

The real challenge is figuring out the best way to slip the drug into Robert Blackwell’s drink. Not wanting to lose the chance, I go with the first plan that pops in my head, which is probably my first mistake.

I purposely reach for his glass and bring it up to my lips, pausing just as it’s about to hit and let out a girlish giggle, “Oops, that’s not mine.” He looks up and I give him a flirty smile, “Sorry, I almost drank from your glass.” While his attention is on me I place his glass back down and drop the Memphis84 in, keeping the tube hidden in my palm. I resist the urge to check if the poison shows in his drink, having to trust Vic that it won’t.

Robert gives me a flirty smile back, “Losing a drink to such a beautiful woman would hardly be an inconvenience.”

I bat my lashes, sickened by the whole encounter, “Thank you.” I take my glass, quickly eyeing his, and am happy to report nothing looks out of the ordinary. My hand gives out and shakes as I bring my glass up, but he’s distracted by his date that is now at his side. I sip from my glass, peeking through my lashes to see if anybody is eyeing me suspiciously. Not a single person seems interested in anywhere around me and I sigh internally.

“I got you a fresh glass,” I hear him say to his date, handing over the glass of champagne.

My stomach drops as she gratefully accepts it.

I know all color has left my face and I quickly duck into the crowd, pulling Bones along with me. “He gave someone else the drink,” I squeak, stashing the tube back in my clutch.

“What are you talking about?” Bones follows where my eyes are glued to. He glances between the woman sipping her champagne, unaware that she’s drinking her death, and me, who is obviously panicking. Hyperventilating really. I can’t breathe. I don’t know who that person is. What if she has children? What if despite her date ruining lives she’s saved millions? What if–

“Calm down, Freya,” Bones has me face him, both of his strong hands wrapped over my shoulders, giving them a shake. “It’s okay.”

“How is that okay?” I’m not even prepared to kill a man who apparently deserves it, so this is beyond what I can digest. “I’ll never come back from a mistake like this,” I whisper in despair and devastation.

Bones curses, “You’re in a room full of killers, you did the world a fucking favor.”

I’m taken back for a second, “What?”

“Well,” he looks around the room, scrunching his face, “Mostly. Some are innocent, but they all know the kind of fucking people who are in this room and accept that’s who they fucking are.”

“Vikki’s here,” I point out.

“I know…” It lingers and I can’t say I’m surprised.

“Would you fit in here?”

“Yes,” Bones immediately answers.

I have to ask, “Vic…?”

Bones gives me a look, and the look alone is all the answer I need.

I watch the woman drink what was not intended for her. I guess now I fit in with this crowd too. I don’t have time to contemplate how that affects me, because two well-built men in matching business suits step in front of us.

“Mr. Kazimir requests your presence,” the one on the left informs us, like we don’t have a choice.

“Who the fuck is that?” Bones inquires, as though he can’t be bothered with being taken away from the party.