That Was Then (The Re-Do Series Book 1) (5 page)

K
endall

Alistair Rinaghi has left the building. Or maybe the country. All I know is, since the kitchen door collided with my face last week, I haven’t seen him around. Courtney refuses to confirm whether he’s checked out.

Apparently, it’s against the company policies.

Blegh
!

What’s a little twisting of the rules in the game of love?

It’s sad because I was really hoping to have a second chance at that date. Even if it was just to unravel the mystery of Alistair’s false name and the cash payment to
La Ruba
.

The suspense is killing me. I’ve restrained my inner Curious George for
seven
days. The monkey is shrieking and aching to burst out. So I’m considering a plan. But it’s not a very good one. It’s definitely not a smart one.

The truth is I could have moved on my idea days ago. But there’s something about getting fired and falling behind on my bills that snaps me back to reality.

Today, as I mix the flour and cornmeal for the orange cornmeal cake I’m making for dessert, the doubts are fading. I’m being dragged farther and farther from reality as the plan I’d concocted a few days ago in the middle of an old, black-and-white detective movie gains a foothold.

It’s a simple plan, really. Not too dangerous at all. I’d head down to the service floor of the hotel where I’d meet my contact, Martha.

Last year, Martha couldn’t afford to buy the fancy birthday cake that her son wanted. I heard about her problem and offered to supply the pastry. She’s been a staunch supporter ever since.

Martha works in the house keeping department. I plan to borrow her outfit and sneak into Room 104 using her master key.

After some light snooping and a little cleaning, I’ll leave. If Alistair’s still staying at
La Ruba
, I’ll know. If he’s not, at least the room will get some loving Kendal Villanueva attention.

By the time I’ve stuffed the cornbread in the oven, I’m completely convinced. This is the most brilliant idea and nothing could possibly go wrong.

I know. I’m delusional
.

Still, it is with enthusiastic energy that I wave goodbye to Serachi as I head out on my lunch break. He answers my cheer with a grimace. It’s our thing. I shove my tongue out at his back when he returns his attention to the counter.

The service elevator yanks on my back muscles as I turn the lever. I absolutely hate using this old thing. And the dark storage closet that I have to pass before I reach the door is creepy.

I descend into the darkness, pretending that I’m brave while I keep one hand on my phone so I can use it as a flashlight. I dart safely through the obstacle course of the hall and then fly through the door leading to the main, illuminated corridor.

The light is a welcome relief. I stride down the narrow hall until I hear the low tones of Hispanic music. With little effort, I push the door open and greet the workers scurrying about in their netted caps and white aprons.

“Kendall!” a melodic voice with a heavy accent squeals.

Thick, bronze arms are thrown around my waist.

“Martha!” I return the embrace. “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

Martha steps back and tucks a wisp of dark brown hair behind her ear. She’s a pretty forty-something single mom with two boys at home. Martha and I sometimes go shopping together at the thrift stores down by the market.

She’s the sweetest person that I know. It’s why I’m having such a hard time asking her for this favor. If I’m caught, Martha could get in a lot of trouble. I would feel responsible.

We’re beating around the bush and pursuing idle conversation when my friend gets to the point.

“What do you need, Kendall?”

I glance at the tiled floor and shuffle my feet.

“It’s nothing. I’ve changed my mind.”

“Come on,” Martha shakes my arm. “Whatever you ask is yours!”

I blink at her easy promise. It was a heck of a birthday cake, but I don’t think it deserves that much credit.

Taking a deep breath, I push past my fears and my conscience.

“I was wondering if I could borrow an outfit and your master key.”

Martha doesn’t even blink.

“Of course.”

Fifteen minutes later, I’m charging down the hall in a tight white blouse and navy skirt. My hair is restrained by a netted white cap. The shirt rides up whenever I bend or twist so I keep pulling it down as I awkwardly push my cart to the elevator.

This is so stupid
.

My heart is thumping like a maniac. As much as I wanted to pursue this Alistair business, I didn’t think I would actually go through with it. I’m more of a dreamer than a go-getter. This go-getting business is nerve wracking.

A couple on their honeymoon saunters down the carpeted corridor. They walk hand-in-hand and smile at me as they stroll.

“Hello, hello!” I say in a Spanish accent.

They send me strange looks. I realize that I need to tone it down a bit. Thankfully, the love birds don’t linger and I’m once again alone in the hall. I quickly extract the master key and swipe it over the door.

It opens with a silent click. The curtains are drawn but the harsh afternoon sunlight is spilling past the blinds over the windows. My shoes squeak against the tiled floor as my eyes rake the surface of each dresser.

I’m not a criminal so I don’t want to take or touch anything, but if I can find something that can clue me in to who this guy is, I’ll count that a success. Then I’ll get the heck out of here.

I’m squirreling around in the sitting room when I hear the door open. I freak out and dive behind the full length curtains in front of the French doors leading out to the balcony. Only after I slip behind the thin material do I realize how stupid my decision was.

Because it’s still daylight, the rays from the sun cast a shadow. The outline of my body will be clear to anyone looking in. After a few moments of stillness, I decide to give up my position and surrender to the consequences.

Shoving the curtain aside, I stare blindly into the pointed end of a sharp dagger.

A squeal escapes my lips. I freeze up, certain that I’ll be swimming with the angels in the next minute. The sharp point nicks my neck before the knife is yanked away and my attacker steps into the light.

Alistair?

“Kendall?”

The guy who –just a second ago–was ready to chop my head off is looking down at me with concern and relief.

“Hi,” I awkwardly wave my fingers.

His face contorts as he focuses on my throat.

“You’re bleeding.”

I touch my fingers to my neck, suddenly realizing that the area indeed stings a bit. My hand falls away with the stain of blood.

“Oh, I am.” I straighten my shoulders. “Well, I’ll just be on my way so I can deal with that.”

“Wait,” Alistair clutches my hand.

I’m wigging out because I’m sure he’ll ask  me questions that I don’t have good answers to. Instead, he presses the width of his palm against the un-hurt side of my neck.

“Come on, let me clean that up.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he slants me a look. His gentle tone was just for show. It wasn’t a question.

A
listair

The last thing I expected after my long drive from the hidden fortress to the hotel was Kendall Villanueva behind my curtains. Given my grueling week among the assassins, I’d managed to push her to an obscure corner of my mind.

But now I’m here.

And so is she.

“Hold still,” I caution as I remove the cotton swab from the First Aid Kit packet and swipe it against her bleeding skin.

She hisses.

Kendall’s been strangely silent since our meeting. I’m curious to know why she’d been lurking around my suite. But I’m more shaken by the memory of holding a knife to her neck. Had she not made that sound when she did, I would have killed her.

It’s a disturbing thought.

“Almost done.”

She simply nods.

I work quietly, removing the bandage from its package and fastening it to her skin. When I’m through Kendall pops up, nearly knocking me backwards. Her curly bun, along with a strange white cap, flops down into her face. She keeps it upright with one hand, while extending the other like a traffic officer.

“Thanks! Got to go!”

She makes it halfway to the door before I catch up to her.

“Hold up just one minute.”

I hear her mutter ‘
rats
’. Her back tenses. She continues to stare at the exit. I’m amused, but the initial fear for her safety is receding. Now I want to know what this woman was after.

“Why were you in my room?”

She spins around and blinks at me with thick, dark lashes. It’s mesmerizing, but I focus on my exhaustion instead of her appeal and hold firm.

“Um,” she coughs, “it’s actually a funny story.”

I lift an eyebrow and tilt my head to indicate that she should continue.

“Well, the thing is…” Kendall sputters, “I’m kind of helping out a friend with her job.”

“The hotel allows pastry chefs to assist the house keepers?”

She snorts. “Well, when you say it like that it sounds stupid.”

I have her backed into a corner and she knows it.

“What were you really doing?”

Kendall sighs and steps near my bed. The picture unlocks a plethora of feelings. The girl is absolutely stunning.

Her light, brown skin is as soft as it looks. Her curly brown hair, carelessly tossed into a bun, is simple yet elegant. The maid costume she wears is especially tight and reveals her deep curves which only serve to distract me.

I could ravish her. Right here. Right now. 

I fold my hands into fists and restrain myself from such thoughts. If Kendall is an enemy assassin or worse, an associate of Shadow, then she cannot be trusted. In addition, forcing myself upon a woman is against not only the assassin’s code but my personal code of honor.

“I was looking for clues.”

Her sweet voice nudges me from my reflections.

On the outside, I remain stoic. But inside, I’m beginning to sweat. Perhaps Kendal
is
with Interpol. If so, I shall have to account to the government for my past crimes. Though the police may not be as fatal as Shadow, they are a different headache altogether.

“Did you find them?” I draw her casually away from the bed and into the sitting room.

The distance from the bedroom is putting my mind –and other parts of me – at ease. I’m also drawing her away from the front door. I can easily overpower Kendall, but my intentions are not to hurt her.

“No,” she bites her bottom lip in an adorable display of nerves. “No, I didn’t.”

I spread my arms wide and point to the sofa. “Please, ask me anything that you like.”

She warily takes a seat. I sit in the opposite armchair to calm her down. I’m rather proficient at reading people. From what I can tell, Kendall is neither an assassin nor a fed. She’s got too open of a spirit. Her eyes are too innocent.

She lifts her chin in a surprising display of bravery.

“What’s your real name?”

I’m genuinely astonished.

“What kind of question is that?”

She scoots to the end of her seat. “I tried to look you up online. You don’t have a single post up on
anything
. It’s like you don’t even exist.”

I smile. “You were researching me?”

She waves away the question. “Well? What is it?”

It’s been such a long time since I’ve used my real name, I doubt it will do much harm to let this Belizean beauty in on it now.

“My name is Alistair Howard.”

“Alistair Howard,” –she echoes–“are you from England?”

I nod my head. “Originally. I’m from a small parish in the countryside. It’s quite nice actually, but I moved around during my childhood.”

“Oh cool,” she nods and then slaps her hands against her thighs. “Well, that’s it.”

I lean back, perplexed. “That’s what you disguised yourself and broke in to discover?”

She sheepishly tilts her head. “Pretty much.”

I laugh, a loud, boisterous, genuine laugh. It’s so unfamiliar to my ears that it sounds quite raspy and pathetic. Kendall glances at me with widened eyes.

“You are very intriguing, Kendall, to risk so much for so paltry an offering of information.”

“I don’t know about ‘intriguing,” she shrugs her shoulders, “but I am sorry that I did this. It’s an invasion of privacy. I obviously wasn’t thinking.” She rises. “I won’t bother you again.”

“Where are you going?”

Her strides do not waver. “I have to get to work. I’ll be late.”

“Come to dinner with me.” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can corral them.

She freezes and slowly turns to face me.

“I’ll answer more of your questions then.” I add awkwardly.

Kendall’s expression is unreadable. I mentally berate myself. I suspect that she will turn me down for a second time. Such an eventuality would, perhaps, be best. I’ve much more pressing matters on my mind.

And I really am exhausted. My features are less than acceptable, given that my eyes have just begun to return to normal. I am in no state to go out into the public and make small talk.

I should be awaiting Shadow’s arrival. I should be gathering intelligence about the elusive assassin. I should be continuing my training.
These
things are priorities. Not romancing a girl that I barely know.

“Yes.” Kendall Villanueva says.

As soon as her agreement touches the air, I push all the doubts and misgivings to the side. Their weight no longer bears down on my mind.

“Really?”

A hint of incredulity coats my tone. I had already prepared myself for her rebuff.

“Yeah. How about tomorrow?”

Tomorrow? Yes!

“That sounds doable,” I say in a cool voice to make up for my earlier show of vulnerability. She prepares to leave.

I mutter, “should we exchange numbers or…”

My voice trails when I realize that I’ve already gathered all such information from my Interpol search.

“It’s okay, I have it.”

“I have it.”

We speak at the same time, our words fitting into each other like Russian nesting dolls.

Kendall snickers.

I know from the very bottom of my soul. This woman will be the death of me.