Tara (5 page)

Why would he though?

She wasn’t anything to him. She wasn’t human, wasn’t even a real person. Real people didn’t get sold. She was an object and he was clearly just the delivery method. That comforting numbness inside her spread further, leaving her mind floating somewhere where she didn’t have to pay attention to the cat and mouse game being played with metal and rubber on road. Who cared which of them won? Her fingers dipped into her bra to check on her iPod – still there.

Yes, she was fine. Just fine.

Chapter Five

The girl next to him was completely calm, and she hadn’t spoken since he’d made his statement about delivering her. It had been a little harsh, but she hadn’t even reacted. Glancing over, Alaric saw that her blonde waves were hanging over her shoulder, mostly obscuring her face, as she stared out the window.

Eyes on the road, idiot.

At the speed he was moving through the city he was lucky the police hadn’t noticed, but checking the mirrors he was pretty sure he had lost the tail. To be sure he did a large circle around the hotel, tracking the movement of the cars behind him before he actually drove towards it. Slowing down to a normal speed Alaric merged the small Maserati between a delivery truck and another sports car behind him, flowing with traffic once more as the hotel came into view.

As he pulled into the car park he remembered what her eyes had looked like staring up at him when he’d shielded her from the blast that took out the gate. Blue ice, cool and calm and distant. Her mouth had parted like she was going to ask him a question just before the blast, and he had wanted to touch her lips to see if they were as soft as they looked. Fortunately, the bomb had gone off and he hadn’t done anything so impossibly foolish.

What he should have been focusing on was making her cover her damn ears. After that blast he wouldn’t be surprised if they were bleeding.

Looking at her now though, he still couldn’t figure out why she’d walked out of Gianni’s house like it was of no concern. Those pictures of them together had made them look so happy. She’d had a gorgeous house, she was living in the lap of luxury –

Well,
no
, she wasn’t.

He had found her in that cell downstairs, fitted out like a dorm room, with bars on three sides and concrete on the other. That had shocked him, to see someone so beautiful, so put-together, locked up in what amounted to a cage.

He was suddenly glad he’d killed Gianni.

Because like he’d thought before, looks could be deceiving. No family or relationship was what it seemed to be on the outside.

With the car parked he grabbed his pack and tugged out his coat and began to pull it on to cover the weapons. The girl turned to look at him, those blue eyes locking on and evaluating him. He felt like he had to talk and explain what he wanted next. “We’re going inside, but if you draw any attention to us I’m going to sedate you.”

Alaric palmed the small syringe and she just stared at him for a moment before she spoke, “You don’t need to worry about me, I know my place.” Turning away she opened the door, stepping out smoothly, her long legs shifting under the spectacularly short skirt. Alaric jumped out of his side, but he didn’t need to rush because she simply walked around to his side and waited.

What in the bloody hell was going on in this girl’s head?

Pressing the lock button the car beeped its affirmation, and he took her arm to lead her into the hotel. He was listening for screeching tires, the roar of an engine, or rapid footsteps approaching, but there was nothing but the night-time traffic. The front door of the hotel was pushed open by night security and as they stepped onto the tile of the lobby he heard a wet sound.

“Signorina! You’re bleeding!” The panic of the security guard behind them made the girl at the front desk stand up, looking alarmed. He shouldn’t have brought her in through the front door. He should have found a way through a back door. This was suicide, or rather homicide, since he’d have to silence them if they made this an issue. Then he’d have to find a new hotel.
Shit
.

A loud, girlish laugh erupted next to him and the blonde socialite suddenly tugged on him, leaning against his body heavily. “I can’t find my shoes!” Her words slurred in Italian so dramatically he wondered if he had accidentally stuck her with the sedative. She sounded drunk. “We were walking, and my shoes are gone! Sweetheart, do you know where my shoes are?” More giggling, that big smile when she turned her face to look at him made her breathtakingly beautiful, and he was keenly aware of how she pressed herself against his side. As stunned as he was he still caught on quickly.

“Dolcezza, I don’t know where you took them off, but it’s time to bandage you up and then get to bed.” He turned on his own smile and wrapped an arm around her to support her. Looks of sympathy came from the front desk girl and the guard, the latter shaking his head a little and laughing. “Good night!” Alaric called over his shoulder as they moved to the elevators, the girl stumbling a little on the way as she left a trail of bloody half-foot prints across the pristine tile. 

Hopefully they wouldn’t want to charge him to clean it up.

The moment the elevator doors closed she stood up on her own again, the smile disappearing from her face as she checked her hair in the mirrored wall, pushing a hand through the front of it to lift the weight of those waves before letting them drop again. He found himself staring at her.  She had handled the situation perfectly, and the entire thing had been an act.

“That was -” he started to speak, but she interrupted.

“Don’t worry about it. I told you I know my place.” She had switched back to English, her voice even and calm as the elevator dinged to a stop at their floor. He clapped his mouth shut and led them to the left to his room. She walked in without any issue.

This was all going so much easier than he had imagined, but he really needed to clean up her foot, she must have cut it when they were climbing over the gate. Luca’s request for ‘not a scratch’ was rebounding in his head.

“Come here.” He stepped past her and into the living room, heading to his duffel for the first aid kit. To search in the bag he put the syringe between his teeth, and she started talking again.

“You don’t need to use the Dreamland on me. I’ll behave, I promise.” Her voice was serious as she continued, “- and it would probably kill a human so you probably shouldn’t experiment with it, if you’re into that.” She was still standing near the door, her injured foot angled away from the floor.

Wait,
human
? “What do you mean?” Alaric’s head turned at her comment and he found himself holding the first aid kit in one hand and the syringe in the other – what a contradiction.

“Mind if I take a shower?” She glanced into the huge bathroom, pointedly ignoring his question.

“Only if you leave the bathroom door open, I can’t have you locking yourself in.” Alaric kept trying to place her accent, but it was difficult because she spoke Italian just as smoothly as English, and her accent sounded like neither.

“You can watch, I don’t care,” she said as she pulled that beautiful blue top off and he spun on his heels, looking at the ceiling to make sure he couldn’t catch her in his periphery. Behind him he heard the movement of more clothes and her footsteps on the tile of the bathroom and then the snap of the frosted shower door shutting.

He dropped the first aid kit back on top of his bag and tucked the syringe into the case. She’d called the liquid
Dreamland
like she knew what it was. Hell, she acted like she knew what was happening here better than he did. What socialite was calm and composed in the midst of dead bodies and a kidnapping? A better question, what socialite spent the night in a prison cell constructed in the basement of an Italian villa?

Too many questions that he really didn’t need to ask. He really
shouldn’t
ask.

Moving to the doorway he kept his back to the shower, and the question tumbled out. “What did you mean when you said it would kill ‘a human’?”

Her voice echoed in the shower, “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”

“What do you mean?” He turned slightly to send his voice into the bathroom, but told himself he was going to stare at the wall and not her outline through the frosted glass.

“Let me ask you this – do you know what I am?”

“A girl worth 2.5 million pounds,” Alaric replied bluntly, and he heard her laugh a little.

“And why would I be worth that?” The laugh had made her voice lighter, almost lyrical.

“That’s not my business.”

“Ah, well, you should make it your business to know what you sign up for.” She sounded a little mocking as the smell of shampoo filled the room, and the steam started to fog the top edge of the mirror.

He was
not
going to look at the shape of her behind the glass. “I prefer to know as little as possible about my jobs. Bare bones.”

“So, I’m a job?”

“Yes.” When he said it, it was also to remind himself. This is a job. She is a job. He shouldn’t even be having this conversation.

“Good to know.” Her casual response caught him off guard again. How could she possibly be so calm after she’d watched him step over bodies that he had killed, then watched him blow up a gate? How could she be so
okay
? This was going to drive him insane.

“Why are you so calm about all of this?” There was more bite to the question than he meant for it, but she was confounding him.

“Who I belong to doesn’t matter, it makes no difference to me.” Her voice synced with the sound of water being wrung out of her hair, the heavy splash of it echoing against the tile.

“And what do you mean by belong to?” Alaric asked the question before he realized his mouth had opened.

“I thought you didn’t want details.”

“I don’t.” He turned his head and caught her silhouette in the white glass of the shower, and he couldn’t look away. Her curves showed up as she bent backwards to rinse her hair. She’d mentioned being
sold
– who the hell was she?

Details only cause problems. Don’t learn about your targets.

“Okay. I won’t give details then. So tell me, who hired you?” It seemed that she looked at him through the glass.

“I don’t know that. You’ll find out when I bring you to him. I didn’t speak directly with him.”

“Fair enough.” She said as the water suddenly turned off, and the door to the shower opened. Alaric spun around, cursing as he put his back against the doorframe.

“Give me a warning!” He rubbed a hand over his face and could smell the gunpowder on his skin. Her laugh echoed off the walls behind him.

“Never seen a girl naked?” She was still laughing, but it was a mesmerizing sound.

His mind was filling in the outline of her he’d seen in the shower, and he rubbed his face again to stop himself. “Of course I have, but that’s not the point. And Jesus, how old are you? Twenty? Less?”

More laughter that made him want to give in and ask her name, where she was from, her favorite color. “Oh, I’m much older than twenty. You can look now, by the way.”

When Alaric turned he saw her wrapped in one of the big, fluffy, white robes from the counter and it dwarfed her. Her blonde hair was darker from being damp, but the wave of it still showed. She looked at him and her eyes were crystal blue and sparkling from the laughter that even now had the corners of her mouth turning up.

She was barely an arm’s reach away, but he made himself step back, turning to step into the living room. “So, it’s been a long night, you should sleep.” He needed to sleep too and he had to secure her. Moving to the couch he grabbed a pair of handcuffs from a pocket in his duffel before he tossed it onto the floor. When he turned he saw a flicker of panic in her face before that A-List smile was back in place.

“Well, you don’t waste any time.” One of her hands started to pull the robe apart as she spoke again, “but I promise you don’t need to use those on me.”

Alaric held up the cuffs. “No. This is just to make sure you don’t run off while I’m asleep.”

“I’m not going to run.” Her blue eyes had lost all of their light, now matte discs of color that reminded him of storm clouds more than ocean water. How quickly those changed. She was focused on the handcuffs, and he hated the fleeting look of panic that had been on her face, but what choice did he have?

“I can’t take that risk.” Alaric felt cold when he said it, that same separation he felt when he went to pull the trigger taking him over as he watched her.

“Because I’m your job.” Now
her
voice had ice in it too.

“Yes.”

“Well, then I think you should know what you’re getting in to.” She walked forward slowly, her body shifting the robe apart inch by inch so that his eyes had no choice but to devour each bit of bare, ivory skin. The girl stopped in front of him and her hands slid around his waist before he thought to move, her left hand reached for the button at the top of his pants and he grabbed it to stop her.

Shaking his head he gently moved her back by her shoulder. “No, I’m not asking for that. I’m just transporting you.”

“Alright, well, you should know what you’re transporting.” In her right hand was the back-up knife he’d tucked into the back of his pants, and before he could stop her she dragged it across her arm. Blood welled up fast and she immediately dropped the knife onto the floor so she was unarmed.

Reacting fast he clamped his hand over the wound, but he could feel the blood wet against his palm, and it was already dripping onto the carpet. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” He yelled, dragging her towards the bathroom. He looked at her face to find her staring down at the blood on her arm with a bored expression. Her eyes were so distant she almost didn’t look like the same girl who had been laughing moments before.