Shadow of a Doubt (Tangled Ivy Book 2) (2 page)

“It’s April and you started this . . . relationship . . . on New Year’s,” she said. “Six times in four months, that should make you happy.” Her voice was carefully even. She didn’t really “get” my relationship with Devon, but wanted to support my decisions, which was more than I could say for Logan.

“I was,” I said, pausing outside my booth, “but then this morning, I saw he’d left money on the kitchen counter.”

Marcia raised her eyebrows. “Money?” I nodded. She frowned. “How much?”

I glanced around before answering, then lowered my voice. “Ten thousand dollars.”

Her eyes flew open wide. “Ten thousand—”

“Shh!” I glanced around again, but no one had paid attention.

“Ten thousand dollars,” she said again, this time much more quietly, but no less astounded. “Are you kidding me right now?”

I shook my head. “I counted it.”

“Did he talk to you about it?”

“No. He just left a note.”

“And it said?” she prompted.

I pulled the scrap of paper from my pocket and handed it to her. She read it, then handed it back.

“What do you think it means?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I have no idea, but you know I don’t understand how this relationship works anyway. Maybe it’s just what he says. Some money in case you need it.”

“But I’m already living in his apartment. He pays all the bills. Why would I need money?”

“Girl, if you think you’re going to get sympathy from me because your boyfriend gave you ten grand to spend on whatever you want, you’re looking in the wrong place.” Her dry comment prodded a grin out of me.

We had to stop there because customers had entered the building. I was busy all day and when I did pause to eat lunch and chat with Marcia, we didn’t talk about Devon or dissect the events of last night. Not that it stopped me from dwelling on it all day.

Was I making a big deal out of nothing? Ten thousand dollars was a lot of money. Maybe it was a goodbye gift? Maybe I wouldn’t see him again?

The thought made my stomach clench as anxiety struck. Surely he’d tell me if he wasn’t coming back? He wouldn’t just leave and not say a word?

But I wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure he wouldn’t do just that.

I had no way of reaching him. When he called, his number was always blocked, and he didn’t call that often anyway. There was no predictable pattern to it and he rarely stayed on the line for long.

Warm spring air greeted me when I stepped out of the building a little after six o’clock. I was tired. The lack of sleep last night and a long day at work had taken their toll and I couldn’t wait to get home and relax.

Home.

Was that how I thought of Devon’s apartment? Home?

It was the closest thing I had to a home since moving to St. Louis from Dodge City, Kansas, last summer. I’d stayed with Logan for a while, but then Devon had swept into my life and one of his conditions for
remaining
in my life was that I move out of Logan’s place and into his. Since he was hardly ever home, I had the place to myself. A perk I’d gladly give up if it meant I’d get to see him more often. Six times over the past four months wasn’t enough, especially when the longest visit had been only ten hours.

I unlocked and climbed into my car, tossing my purse onto the passenger seat. I pulled my door shut with a slam just as the rear door opened and a man slid into the backseat.

Alarmed, I reached for my door handle. “Hey! What’re you—” But I was cut off when he reached over the seat and took a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. I gasped in pain, and with my next breath, I felt the cold slide of a blade against my throat.

“Hallo, luv. Been a while, eh?”

I caught sight of the man in my rearview mirror.

Clive.

He used to work with Devon, if I used the term
work
loosely. The details were sketchy. What I did know was that he’d once betrayed Devon and left him for dead, and that Clive’s brand-new
wife had been murdered by a poison that had also infected me. I, however, had survived.

I swallowed. “What do you want?” I asked, proud of my steady voice.

“I want Anna back, but that’s never going to happen,” he said, speaking of his dead wife. “So I’ll settle for the next best thing.”

He stopped and I thought he wanted me to ask what that was. His fingers pulled harder at my hair and tears of pain burned at the corners of my eyes. My fingernails dug into my seat as I scrambled to think what to do.

“What’s that?” I managed.

“Revenge.”

Ice-cold panic flooded through me. He was going to kill me. I could almost taste it.

“Anna didn’t deserve to die. She was innocent,” he said.

“Killing me won’t bring Anna back,” I said. “I’m innocent, too.”

“Yes, but I don’t care about you, darling. Besides, I’m not going to kill you. Not yet, anyway. I want Devon.”

My mouth went dry. “I-I don’t know where he is.”

“Of course you don’t. No one knows where Devon is unless he wants them to know. You’re the bait . . . and I’m the hook. See you soon, Ivy.”

Clive was up and out of my car as quickly as he’d entered, leaving me a shaky, trembling mess.

I didn’t go anywhere. I just sat there, thinking furiously. Clive was back. He wanted to kill Devon and was waiting until he came back to strike. Which meant he was watching me.

No way could I just drive to Devon’s apartment and lead Clive right there. That would be really dumb. But where else could I go? It wasn’t like I could sit in the car in the bank’s parking lot all night.

The first person I thought of was Logan, my best friend. But we’d had a falling out recently and things were still dicey. If he
knew that I was in danger again because of Devon, he’d go crazy. He hated Devon as it was and this wouldn’t convince him otherwise. Not that it’d be a good idea even if he could tolerate Devon. It wasn’t like I wanted to lead a psychopath to Logan’s door.

The same was true of the rest of my friends. No one needed to be involved in my drama, especially if it might put them in danger. So that left . . .

Picking up my cell, I scrolled through my contacts until I hit upon the one I wanted. After a moment’s hesitation, I dialed the number. I wasn’t sure he would pick up, but after several rings, he answered.

“Agent Lane.”

“Scott,” I said. “I’m sorry to bother you. It’s—”

“Ivy, yeah, hey! It’s good to hear from you,” he interrupted.

I winced a little at the enthusiasm in his voice, wondering if this was a bad idea. Scott had wanted to go out on a date after New Year’s and at first that would’ve been fine. But then Devon had come back into my life and I’d had to turn Scott down when he asked for that date. Not wanting to divulge Devon’s presence stateside, I’d made up an excuse about not being ready to start dating again. He’d taken the rejection with good grace.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Um, well, not so good,” I replied. “I’m having some trouble and I thought maybe you might be willing to help me.”

“Trouble?” he asked, his voice turning cautious. “What’s going on?”

I glanced around the parking lot, uneasy. Was Clive still out there somewhere? Watching? “Maybe I can meet you someplace?” I asked.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at work.”

“Okay, there’s a restaurant not far from there called Claddagh’s. It’s an Irish pub. Do you know it?”

I did.

“Go there. I’m only fifteen minutes away.”

The pub was busy, but not too crowded, and I slid into a booth in the back to wait. The waitress came by and I ordered a glass of wine to steady my nerves.

“Ivy, it’s so good to see you.”

I looked up just as Scott leaned down and gave me a brief hug, then sat in the seat opposite me. The waitress returned, dropping off my wine and taking an order for a beer from him. She left and he scrutinized me, his expression shifting into a frown.

“You look a little pale,” he said. “What happened?”

I took a deep breath and launched into my story, recounting the history between Devon and Clive, from how Clive had betrayed Devon and left him to die, to how Devon had tracked Clive here a few months ago, and ending with the tragic death of Clive’s bride, Anna.

“Devon demanded to know who Clive was working for when he’d betrayed Devon, but it turned out he’d only done what he had to in order to protect his wife, Anna. But instead of Devon being able to help save her, she was poisoned by the virus and died . . . horribly.” I shuddered, remembering how the blood had poured from her eyes and ears.

“But they destroyed that virus, right?” Scott asked, referring to the synthesized airborne pathogen a company had created with the intention of selling it to the highest bidder. It was deadly, acted much like the Ebola virus, only faster, and there was no known cure.

Except for me. The only person walking around with the vaccine flowing through her veins.

“I think so,” I said. “Devon told me he’d erased all their data and that everything that had been made was gone.”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t like the fact that the only thing we have to go on is Devon’s word that a virus with the potential to wipe out eighty percent of the world’s population is no longer a threat.”

I shrugged helplessly. I had no way of reassuring Scott and I wasn’t about to tell him that I carried the vaccine.

He sighed, then gestured for me to continue. “Sorry for interrupting,” he said. “What’s going on that you’re in trouble?”

“Well, I told you all of that so I could tell you how he showed up today,” I said. “Clive.”

“Showed up? Showed up where?”

“In my car. The backseat. He held a knife to my throat and told me he wanted revenge.” Saying it made me relive it, and I took another fortifying gulp of wine.

“He held a knife to your throat?” Scott sounded pissed, his eyes narrowing. “And you say his name is Clive?” He took a notebook from his pocket and jotted down a few notes. “His wife was Anna. Any idea what happened to her body?”

“I don’t know,” I said, somewhat confused by the question. “I’d assume it was burned since she was infectious.”

“I need to check on that, but you’re probably right,” he said, still writing. “Our labs will want to study the body if it hasn’t been destroyed.”

“I’m afraid to go home,” I blurted, and Scott glanced up from his notebook. “I don’t know if he knows where I live, and I don’t want to lead him there if he doesn’t. He said he wants to use me to get to Devon.”

Scott frowned. “Why would he think using you would get to Devon? He left months ago.”

This was the part I’d been dreading. I didn’t speak and I felt my cheeks get warm. Scott’s eyebrows lifted.

“Ivy,” he said. “He
did
leave months ago, right? You haven’t seen or heard from him since Paris, right?”

I couldn’t look in his eyes any longer. My gaze dropped, which was answer enough for Scott. He muttered a harsh curse.

“Tell me.”

I swallowed hard, then answered. “He came back. Explained to me why he’d done what he had. Told me he wanted me to move into his place.”

“So he’s here now?” Scott interrupted. “You didn’t want to lead Clive to Devon at his apartment?”

“No,” I said. “I live in his apartment, but he’s rarely here. He’s only been back a handful of times since New Year’s.”

“Since New Year’s,” Scott repeated, and I saw understanding dawn in his eyes. “So when you turned me down . . .”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know if the FBI would still be looking for him. I didn’t want to lie to you.”

“But you did,” he said, bitterness in his voice.

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“I don’t agree with that, but it’s neither here nor there at this point,” he said. “So Clive had the opportunity to kill you, but didn’t. He wants Devon.”

“Right.”

“Well, just call him,” Scott said with a shrug. “If you’re afraid he’s monitoring your cell or something, you can use mine. Warn Devon about Clive, then tell him to get his ass back here and take care of it. It’s not like you need some psycho holding a knife to your throat.” He dug his cell phone from his pocket and held it out to me, but I didn’t take it.

“Um, I can’t,” I said.

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t call Devon.”

“Why not?”

This was so awkward, I hated even having to say it. “I don’t have his number,” I confessed. “Or any other way to reach him.”

Scott looked at me in disbelief, surprise rendering him momentarily speechless. Then he said, “You have no way to communicate with Devon? No phone number or emergency contact information?”

I shook my head.

“What if you need something?” he asked, and now I could see anger building in his eyes. “He just pops into town whenever he feels like it and leaves the same way?”

It was about a thousand times worse hearing Scott say this than Marcia. At least Marcia was a woman and didn’t judge me—women the world over did stupid things for men and we all knew it. But having a man look at me like I was out of my mind to allow myself to be in a relationship like this . . . I wasn’t able to keep my mortification at bay and I could feel my face burning.

“I didn’t say it was a perfect relationship,” I murmured, at a loss as to what else I could say.

“A perfect—are you kidding me?” Scott fumed. “You’re in danger and have no way to reach him. It’s not a relationship, Ivy. It’s called having a fuck buddy.”

I felt the blood drain from my face at the utter scorn and derision in his words.

“Excuse me.” I slid out of the booth. “I shouldn’t have called you.”

“No, wait,” Scott said, jumping to his feet and catching hold of my arm. “I’m sorry, Ivy. I don’t mean to sound so harsh. Please stay.”

I stared at my feet, the ground blurring as unshed tears built in my eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, and he did sound contrite. “Sit down. Please.”

Finally, I gave a curt nod and sat back down in the booth. Scott took his seat again, too.

“Okay, so I won’t go into my thoughts on how Devon is treating you,” Scott said. “Let’s just solve the problem, okay?”

I looked up at him. “Sounds good.”

Scott took a good look at my watery eyes and his jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.