by Bethany-Kris
“And? I call her frequently.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” Cree reached up to grab the tail end of his long braid before flicking it over his shoulder. Pushing up to stand to his full, towering height so that she was forced to stare up at him, he turned with a wave of his hand toward the stairs, saying, “Ladies first.”
Penny didn’t move. “Did she call to tattle on me and complain that I had her do her job?”
“Actually, she was doing what she was told.”
Oh?
“Which is?”
Cree shrugged. “Filling us in. When you call, she calls. We like to know what you’re doing when you’re doing it. Especially when it deals with a situation where you might end up doing more harm than good.”
“To already bad people? Or by making sure there’s no information about me to find on the—”
“By exacerbating your PTSD, Penny.”
She let out a hard breath, meeting Cree’s gaze when she replied calmly, “I’m fine. And occasionally doing a scan of the dark web for anything I find interesting or that relates to me, and this job doesn’t make my PTSD any worse than it already is.”
“But it does when you find things about yourself. Your old self.”
That had her jaw tensing. Her teeth clenched so hard, there was no hiding it or ignoring the pain it caused in her molars. Guessing from the way Cree’s gaze darted down before coming back up to her face, he hadn’t missed it, either.
“Cree—”
“Jewel mentioned something else, too. Luca Puzza.”
Penny tried to remain as still as possible. It was the easiest way for her to appear like nothing was wrong and needed that. She needed to be the unbothered, cold human these people had trained her to be even if it wasn’t true.
“So now you’re having people report back on everything they talk about with me?” Penny scoffed, adding just as fast, “And she brought him up, not me.”
“Yes, fishing. Because I asked her to.”
“What?”
Cree chuckled. “There are only a handful of people you willingly talk to on a regular basis. Jewel is one of those because of the very nature of your relationship with her. Even if it is all business. Dare was trying to put feelers out about your feelings regarding the Puzza man trailing you and getting close. You gave nothing away; he still wanted more. So yes, I had Jewel bring it up to see what you would say to someone who wasn’t above you on the paygrade, so to speak. Someone you might consider a friend of sorts.”
“Jewel isn’t a friend.”
The Native man nodded. “Right, because you don’t have those, do you?”
Ouch.
Penny didn’t show the nerve that touched, either.
“Except for that man—Luca,” Cree clarified, lifting one silk—covered shoulder. “He was a friend, right? You told me that years ago during your initial training when we would do our sessions. Your very first real friend, you said. You had a terrible crush on him, but he was too old for you and never acted inappropriately to even encourage your feelings. Nonetheless, you trusted him. Maybe more than even Nazio and Rosalynn Donati. And that’s where I keep coming back to with this little issue of him showing up now. That trust ... his friendship.”
She refused to look away from Cree but staring at him also gave the man the upper hand of seemingly looking into her soul where she kept most of her secrets close to her heart. One of those secrets, he had just stripped bare and laid out in front of her, as if she might deny it.
“He’s not going to be a problem,” Penny whispered. “He’s just ... a guy.”
She wouldn’t admit to the many sleepless nights since she came face to face with Luca. Never mind the cold showers when she woke up from lustful dreams that she desperately wished would stop. None of it made any sense; there wasn’t a single reason for her to feel those things. They just were. She wouldn’t feed into it by even discussing it.
Cree wouldn’t call her out on any of that—he wouldn’t even ask those sorts of details. Which was why he kept focusing on her old friendship with Luca and less on the crush she had once admitted to having on the man. Her sexual activities had never been something that Cree put on the table unless Penny did first, and that was only because of her own confusion and fear as she learned to deal with becoming a woman with her own desires and needs after being nothing more than a body with holes to fill for the right price.
For years.
Besides, Penny no longer gave anyone that right. She refused to hand over any power to that aspect of her life. Even if that power was only knowledge because, for her, it wasn’t an only kind of thing. It was too much.
Too much power.
Sex wasn’t a weapon. At least, not one she let anyone use against her. Not in any way. Not anymore.
“For what it’s worth,” Cree said when Penny began to climb the stairs without waiting for him to dismiss her, “I think you’re right, and Dare is being his typical, worrisome self because he has to be. He has to put the safety of The League above all other things, even his own rationale. A hazard of the job, one could say.”
Stopping just long enough to peer over her shoulder, Penny asked, “Then why bother with any of this at all? It seems like a waste of time, and if there’s anything we all know about you ... you hate that shit, Cree.”
“This life isn’t forever, Penny. This place—what you do now. No one has ever told you that before, but there will be an after.”
“What does that even mean?”
“After this. The League. Who you are right now. What you’re doing. There will be an after. Have you ever thought about what you might want, then?”
Penny hadn’t ever thought about what would come after. Maybe because she didn’t know there would be one, as that was never discussed when she became a member here. That wasn’t the deal but then again ... she also hadn’t understood the sacrifice she became for this place to do what they did to her, either.
“There’s going to be an after?” she asked.
Cree cleared his throat, climbing the stairs until he came to stand beside her. While she usually didn’t leave her hotel without a full get-up that would cover her legs, arms, and any other patch of skin where her scars could be seen, she hadn’t done that tonight. Instead, she settled on fishnet tights under cut-off jean shorts, and a black tank top.
Her scars didn’t bother her. Not anymore. While cutting had eventually become something destructive that she couldn’t control, at one time it had been her only savior in a hellish life. It was everyone else that had to look away from her imperfections.
But not Cree.
Reaching over to place his hand on her elbow, his thumb swept the patch of skin where she had once cut so deep that she nearly ruined the muscle there from infection.
“Do you remember what I told you the first time I let you inside the knife room here? You were scared ... a little mouse walking straight into the cat’s mouth. You thought even having access to those weapons would be too much for your self-control. And I said what?”
Penny’s heart thumped hard. “That I would never cut again.”
“And you haven’t. What else?”
“I was the weapon. I just had to learn how to hurt instead of being hurt.”
Cree nodded and released his grip on her arm, replying, “But even weapons become dull and unusable, Penny, for one reason or another. We replace them—if we’re attached to the weapon, then maybe we display it or use it for something else. This—you—isn’t any different. There is always an after; it’s all in what you want to do with it.” Then, he added with a nod at the stairwell, “Go on upstairs. Job first. Everything else second.”
Right.
For now, that was how it had to be.
It was only while Penny walked the hallway that led to Dare’s office when she had another thought. Or maybe an epiphany.
Cree brought up Luca—and everything else regarding the man—because he was trying to find out if she wanted him to be par
t of what came after. All because of what? After years of chasing her, Luca had finally caught up? She didn’t know what to do with that at all.
She also didn’t know if Cree was wrong.
That bothered her more.
THE LAST PERSON SHE expected to see when she walked through the open door of Dare’s office was the man standing with his back facing her on the other side of the dominating glass and metal desk. The laptop in front of him glowed to say he was going over something, but she wasn’t close enough to discern what. One of the top hackers for The League, Marcel, was kind of a legend around the compound in a lot of ways.
A notorious loner.
Easily provoked.
Dangerous with a laptop.
Specifically, the laptop in front of him that he never went anywhere without it being firmly in his hand like an extension of his own body. Supposedly, there wasn’t a system the man couldn’t breach. As the stories went, he had found himself under the protection of The League after draining the offshore bank accounts of several major criminal figureheads across many organizations. The bounty on his life had been the highest ever known.
And yet, there he stood.
Still alive and well.
“We have a plan,” Dare snapped, not even noticing Penny just beyond the doorway as he spoke to the infamous hacker. “One we’re seeing out one step at a time, Marcel, but if we continue these little side trips and indulging her with them, then we’re missing valuable chances to infiltrate the lives of The Elite when we need to the most and when we can make the most impact on the organization.”
“What’s happened?”
Marcel’s shoulders stiffened at Penny’s question. Dare, on the other hand, barely even graced her with his attention.
“I said I wanted to be gone by the time she—”
“Yeah, yeah,” her handler muttered with a flick of his hand in the hacker’s direction. “We all know you hate having to even speak to something with a beating heart that doesn’t sign your paychecks.”
“I asked a question,” Penny said.
She didn’t care about their bullshit. That was something they could handle on their own time when she wasn’t in the room.
Dare didn’t respond.
Or maybe Marcel spoke up before he could, saying to her without ever turning around, “In the process of doing a secondary dive into the Smithenson laptop, I came across an upcoming transaction between him and a wealthy businessman from Florida who makes frequent trips into New York and surrounding states for work-related things. Actually, I found messages between him and a known skin trafficker who works on the dark web for most transactions. He was apparently working on something more permanent than his usual monthly fixes, but the only proof was the fact he was working with the other man. That man was handling all the details.”
That made her hesitate.
Only for a moment.
“Which means you found the details of the upcoming ... whatever, how?” she asked.
Marcel finally turned, leaning his back and hands against Dare’s desk while he eyed her with a cold stare. “How else, Penny? I traced back the messages, found where they were coming from, hacked into the accounts, and went from there. Shit you don’t understand, so let’s not waste time going too deep into it.”
Fine.
“What kind of transaction?”
She already knew the answer. There was only one thing they would bring to her attention in this case. She still wanted to hear one of them say it.
“A sale,” Dare admitted.
Penny grew cold all over.
“Looks like an eleven-year-old girl. Untraceable, practically,” Marcel added. “On her end, anyway. The details of the apparent meeting and final transaction, however—”
Penny held a hand up, quieting the hacker as her mind ran through the details she now had and what it might mean. She kept circling back to the same thing ... she couldn’t let the transaction happen at all.
“And,” Dare said, his tone harsh with his irritation, “the cold hits Marcel put through on the deal suggested we’re interested in continuing the transaction on behalf of Elijah as associates of The Elite.”
“They’re willing to see it through,” Marcel added quickly.
Dare shook his head, fists balled against the glass top of his desk. “Penny, it’s too dangerous to head back to New York right now where they want the transaction to take place. You were just there. You know how this works; we don’t go back to the same place twice in a row when you need to be a ghost that comes and goes.”
She heard none of that.
“If I’m not there to make the sale, then who will?” she asked quietly.
Dare didn’t reply.
Marcel just kept staring.
“Who was there to help me?”
Behind her, a new but familiar voice joined the conversation to say, “You can’t help them all, Penny.”
Cree had a point.
“Right,” she agreed, nodding, “but I can help this one.” Then, she pointed at Marcel, adding, “Make contact again—let them know someone will be there to see the deal through.”
“Penny—”
“It’s one girl, Dare,” Penny interjected sharply. “And since you apparently have nothing else better for me to do at the moment, then what’s the problem?”
“You know the problem.”
Sure, she did.
It was never just one girl. There would always be another. Penny would help that one, too, if the opportunity presented itself. It’s just what she did.
10.
Luca
SEVEN-THIRTY in the morning was way too early for a knock on Luca’s apartment door but especially considering he just rolled his ass out of bed. Not even bothering to do more than yank on a pair of sweats he’d been wearing the evening before while he downed a six-pack and watched the game, he made his way to the front hallway of his apartment.
He also didn’t bother to check the peephole, but he should have. Yanking the door open, he came face to face with his father. Standing damn near eye-level to one another, neither man said anything.
Luca wasn’t accustomed to his father showing up at his place unannounced. If he was being honest ... Zeke hadn’t visited in a couple of years. They typically had dinner at his parents’ home, or with the Donatis at their place. Maybe one of the family’s many restaurants in the city. Even his best friend and sister’s home.
Not here.
“You busy?” Zeke asked.
Luca shifted from foot to foot, scrubbing a hand down his unshaven jaw and feeling the prickly hairs tickle his palm while he tried to wake up. His brain was always slower first thing in the morning when he hadn’t even been able to guzzle a cup of black coffee. “Not really busy just—”
“Waking up, huh?”
He shrugged. “It’s seven-thirty, Dad. What else do people do first thing in the morning?”
That probably wasn’t the right question to ask considering his father stood on the other side of the threshold appearing as though he had been awake for hours already. Dressed smartly in one of his usual three-piece suits, hair coifed perfectly, and eyes alert. Nothing suggested Zeke was anything less than ready for the day.
Luca couldn’t say the same.
“Usually, they go to work,” his father replied.
He tried to let that go over his head; normally, it would fly right past, and he could brush it off like nothing. That time it hit him square in the chest, and he felt all of it.
Putting a hand up in the doorway to act as a barricade so that his father didn’t get the impression he was about to allow him entrance to his place, Luca said, “And I’ll be heading to work soon, too. I’ve got a ... thing today.” Yeah, that was as good as anything in regards to the meeting he planned to spy on later if he got the signal it was still happening from his contact who had been digging into Smithenson, the murder, and anything else that came up which Luca might find interesting. Something had finally come up
. It was happening today. “What do you want?”
Zeke sighed, eyeing his son with a sympathy he hadn’t expected. “To talk. Or are you not in the mood?”
“Does it matter what I say?”
“Not particularly.”
Yeah.
Luca figured.
He could continue to be an ass, but he was quite aware that would only drag this nonsense on, and nobody had time for that. Especially not him. Not today.
“Come on in,” Luca muttered, stepping back from the apartment doorway to let his father enter with a wave to the darkened hallway. He hadn’t even turned the lights on yet. “I was just about to make coffee. You want one?”
Zeke stepped past the threshold and then Luca, not once taking in the changes to the place since the last time he visited. That was one of the first clues that told him it was very unlikely his father was there for a friendly visit to catch up. While he followed behind Zeke, he let his mind filter through the thoughts and emotions that he usually pushed down whenever he was in the presence of his dad.
They weren’t as close.
Not anymore.
Not like they used to be.
Luca tried not to be bitter about that fact, but it wasn’t always easy. He understood that his father came from an entirely different generation than him; that Zeke had been raised by men with different values than his own when it came to carrying on the family business and legacy. What was supposed to be important, he had shunned entirely.
At least, to his father.
“Perc or instant?” his father asked when they entered the kitchen.
Luca passed a look at the coffee maker that was only clean because of the three-day-a-week maid he kept well paid to look after his place but stay the fuck out of his shit while she was here. The percolator had been a gift from his sister when he moved into the place—his love of all things coffee meant he should have one, right?
He never used it.
Didn’t have the time to wait.
The stupid thing had a timer and everything to make coffee and have it hot and ready by the time he woke up. That would, of course, take time to learn how to program it, and he had little to no interest in wasting precious hours on that.
