He had the ridiculous urge to kiss her just to see what her mouth tasted like. Would it be as good as he remembered? Better? “Is that what you think?”
“Isn’t that why you’re here?” she asked with a little tilt of her head. “To intimidate me into silence?”
“You think so little of me,” he repeated for the second time.
“I don’t know what to think of you,” she returned, sounding remarkably earnest.
As if she were curious, even beyond the reason they had crossed paths in the first place.
It was no secret to him that she had heard rumors about him. Some were, undoubtedly, true, others just a part of the lore that came with being a man in his position. Not once had he ever considered correcting someone’s assumptions about him.
He neither had the time nor patience to do so in the past, but he wanted to for her.
Because she fascinated him and was nothing at all like he had expected.
She made him curious, and that was, by far, one of the few emotions he hadn’t felt in ages. And instead of being annoyed by that fact, it only drew him to her further.
Which was why, for the first time in a long time, he was going to do things differently. Change the narrative after he had already crafted it.
He didn’t give a shit about Paxton or what came of the man, so long as it served his endgame, and if he was able to accomplish it, he would have exactly what he wanted.
And her.
He would have her.
12
Midnight Meetings
As night fell over the city, pale blue shifting to a dark navy, brisk winds picked up fallen leaves and swept them down the street.
Karina stood on the corner of 10th Street at the very edge of Clifton Park, waiting for any sign of the man she had come to see.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there, her coat wrapped tight around her against the cold weather, but even as time seemed to creep by without any trace of the man she was waiting for, she couldn’t bring herself to leave just yet.
Instead, she waited.
And waited some more.
Anticipating the moment when Uilleam would show his face.
If he would show his face, rather, considering the sort of man she was starting to realize he was. Considering her last few interactions with him—including his impromptu visit to her apartment—she had no guarantee he would actually do as she thought he would.
He was proving unpredictable that way.
But she hadn’t cared about that after receiving a text from the anonymous number some hours ago with a time and location. She knew it was him, even without it saying as much. And though she knew she should be cautious, even set the terms herself, dreaded curiosity had made the decision for her.
Taking one last look around, she was ready to accept that Uilleam had stood her up, but just as she was about to turn and signal the upcoming taxi driving in her direction, she saw the big man emerge from behind the shadow of a tree.
She conjured his name from the recesses of her mind, ready to greet him properly once she darted over to him, figuring Uilleam couldn’t be far behind if he was here now, but when she attempted to step around him, he remained in her path, his gaze expectant.
He couldn’t be serious … “Seriously?”
“It’s not personal,” Skorpion said with a shrug. “I don’t trust anyone.”
A trait that had probably kept him alive this long.
In their line of business, those they trusted the most held the most secrets.
“Fine,” she replied, holding her arms out on either side of her, the straps of her bag clutched in her hand. “Do you need to search me?”
Skorpion didn’t respond, not when his actions did all the talking for him. He started at her wrists and worked his way in, brief passes of his hands over her frame and all the optimal places she could conceal a weapon. When he was satisfied, he took a step back.
“He’s waiting for you.”
She nodded, already moving around him before the last word was out of his mouth. The admission would never leave her lips, but Karina was eager to see him, wondering whether she would get a glimpse of the charming man who had swept her across the dance floor with her hand tucked in his and his other resting firmly on the small of her back, or if she would see a hint of the man who had warned her to walk away with a darkness in his eyes that she could still see when she closed her own.
Walking deeper into the park, her heels clicking on the cement, she couldn’t help but notice him sitting alone on the bench a few feet away.
He couldn’t be missed.
It didn’t matter that his dark suit blended with the night around him, or that he was tucked away just enough that one’s gaze might have skipped over him if they weren’t paying attention.
But Karina saw him.
She feared she always would.
Uilleam sat so casually, his foot hooked over his knee, his arm stretched out across the back of the metal bench, the platinum watch on his wrist glinting as his jacket and shirt sleeve shifted back a touch.
He stared out at the water, and she was almost sure he was oblivious to everything around him until his mouth opened once she got close.
“A pleasure to see you again, Karina.”
Such simple words, yet they affected her so greatly.
There was something about the way he said her name … ‘Miss Ashworth,’ was always said in a slightly sardonic tone, but when he said her name, as if he liked the way it sounded himself, it made her pay attention. She’d heard dozens of people say it before, yet it had never sounded quite so … intimate.
“I didn’t realize we were on a first-name basis, Uilleam?”
“I quite think we’re beyond formalities, no?” A flash of white teeth as he smiled. “Please. Sit with me.”
It was the middle of the night—or the wee hours of the morning, depending on who was asked—and while the majority of him was cast in shadow, she could still feel his presence. She was too acutely aware of him sitting beside her, even with the distance between them as she sank down onto the bench.
It was proving nearly impossible to stare out at the water or the trees or anything other than his profile.
The cut of his jaw and the slight scruff there. The little tease of a smile that had yet to fail in making her heart thump a little bit harder in her chest.
Clearing her throat to force those thoughts out of her head, she finally spoke. “You asked me here. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve come to proposition you.”
Perhaps it was the way he worded that remark or even that she could hear the smirk in his voice, but whatever the reason, she finally looked at him. “I’m sorry?”
“Was there something about the question that wasn’t clear?”
“What are you propositioning me for … exactly?”
Now she could see the smirk on his face as he turned to look at her. “Which would you prefer?”
“I … well …” Why was she struggling to answer such a basic question? “You asked me here about Paxton, didn’t you?”
He studied her a moment, his gaze flickering over her face. “For now.”
Something very akin to disappointment flitted through her before she dismissed the feeling altogether. “Then you want to offer me a deal like you have others?”
“Of a similar sort, yes.”
“And what exactly do you expect in return?”
“A favor to be called in at a later date.”
“That leaves too much room for misunderstandings.”
“Yet it’s what I’m offering all the same.”
He had her backed into a corner, and she would bet everything she owned that had been his intention all along.
It wasn’t as if she could refuse him, not when he was the sole individual who would help her get what she needed against Paxton.
He held all the power, and he knew it.
“I won’t hurt anyone for you.�
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His laugh was light, though so distinctly masculine it made her blush. “I’m fully capable of handling that on my own.”
“I won’t help you cover up a crime either …”
“I think we can both agree I don’t need any aid in that area either.”
Unfortunately, she did. She knew that quite well.
So what did he want?
Even as the question repeated on a loop inside her head, she knew that she wouldn’t be getting an answer tonight. “How can I trust that you’ll deliver whatever it is you’re offering?”
“You can’t.”
She glanced up at him sharply. “What?”
Uilleam angled his body toward hers, leaning in her direction. So close now that she could see the golden flecks in his brown eyes. “Criminals, by nature, are unreliable. Nor do we deserve anyone’s trust. I’m not telling you to trust me, but the decision is yours to make, all the same.”
Which meant, she didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Not if she wanted the truth and he was the only thing left standing in her way.
“Fine.”
“Not nearly good enough, poppet,” he whispered, though the words sounded impossibly loud with the way she was so focused on him. “I need to hear you say it.”
Tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear—a nervous gesture she needed to give up—she forced herself to say the words she knew he wanted to hear. “You have a deal.”
He smiled. “Everything you need to give justice to the woman will be at the address I send you. Wait for my text.”
“I was under the impression that if there was any evidence connecting him to her death, you would have destroyed it.”
“I might work for my clients, but I always do what’s in my own best interests first.”
More like he was keeping collateral, she thought.
It was smart, she grudgingly admitted to herself. Especially considering the risk he was taking himself. It was only appropriate to take measures to ensure he was protected as well.
And now she was making excuses for him …
“I’m curious.”
“Hmm?”
“Do your clients know you keep dirt on them?”
“Those that know better, I imagine.”
That startled a laugh out of her. “People really don’t understand the gravity of what it means to call on your services, do they?”
Another smile from him. “They overestimate their own abilities while underestimating mine. Considering things usually work out in my favor, I don’t mind it so much.”
She was impressed, more than she probably should have been, all things considered, but while she could admire the clear power he seemed to wield, it also brought another thought to mind.
“Do you even know her name?”
“Who?”
“The woman your client killed. Do you know her name? Did he?”
His brow furrowed. “How is it relevant?”
Another simple question, yet it held such a complex answer.
An answer that made her frown as she regarded him.
Uilleam didn’t appear ashamed, nor did he seemed bothered by the fact that he didn’t seem to have an answer to her question. And while he might have been unnecessarily attractive with a keen mind, it didn’t erase the fact that he also didn’t seem to have any regard for anyone else.
A beautiful man with a black soul.
“I’ll be waiting for your text,” she told him before standing, leaving the conversation there. She was blurring the lines, and that had to stop.
She turned to leave, her thoughts on what she might find at the address he planned to send her.
Would it all be circumstantial?
Would it be exactly what she needed to give a grieving family peace?
She wished she knew.
“Karina.”
She’d hardly made it a foot away before his voice had her turning to look back at him.
He stood as well, stepping forward far enough that he was no longer shrouded in darkness. Now, she could better see the strawberry blond hue of his tousled hair, as if he ran his fingers through it incessantly, and the expression on his face that she couldn’t quite read.
“Miranda Abernathy was her name. An only child. She came from loving parents, but caught up with a man she shouldn’t have trusted.”
He rattled off more facts about her, some she knew, others she didn’t. He knew more than she would have ever given him credit for.
She was too surprised to think of a response quick enough before he stood in front of her, his gaze trained on hers.
“Trust your instincts.”
She looked at him. “What does that mean?”
“Your expression changed,” he said with a shake of his head. “For a split second there, you started to think better of me than I deserve. Before you came and disrupted my work, I didn’t know what her name was nor did I care to find out.” Now he was the one tucking her hair behind her ear, the feel of his touch lingering long after he pulled his hand away. “I’m a different sort of monster, Karina. Don’t ever forget that.”
Before she could respond, he turned and disappeared into the darkness.
13
Truth or Lies
Twisting her hair up into a tight bun, Karina checked her reflection in the mirror.
This part was easy.
Changing her clothes from a skirt and heels to leggings and running shoes was almost second nature. She didn’t have to think about what she was about to do while she dressed. She could pretend, almost, that she was doing something else.
Something as innocent as running a few blocks before jogging back home. Or even down to the corner store where she could pick up another carton of milk that she needed to do anyway.
Anything other than preparing to go off to the address Uilleam had given her, especially when she didn’t know what was waiting for her once she got there.
The scrap of paper she had written the address on was practically burning a hole through the pocket of her jacket. A damning bit of information that was more of a siren’s song than she had anticipated.
Though she had been curious enough to want to go to the address just to see what was there, Karina wasn’t a complete idiot. While she could almost believe that Uilleam was willing to betray his own client, she also didn’t doubt he was capable of anything.
And for that reason, before she had ever taken off her clothes to get ready to head back out, she opened her laptop and searched the address through Google.
A picture of a brownstone with light colored bricks stared back at her. A residential address on the Upper East Side.
She couldn’t find any mention of the owner in the listings—nor did she find any connection to Paxton either— but she felt less nervous about it being someone’s home rather than a remote location.
More interesting was the fact that he hadn’t told her what, exactly, she would find there. It could have been a person—perhaps another mistress that he’d tucked away to make sure she couldn’t be questioned—the place itself, which was a likely possibility, or something else within the brick walls.
She wouldn’t know until she was there.
And that thought worried her the most.
Zipping up the front of her hoodie, Karina double-checked her reflection one last time before she grabbed her keys and tiny pocket-size bag from the top drawer of the side table near her front door and slipped out of her apartment.
Despite the hour, the city was still alive and crawling with people. Some on phones and oblivious to everything around them. Others taking pictures and lost in the world that was bright with lights. No one paid very much attention to her as she eased through the crowds and waited until she got well enough away from her apartment before hailing a taxi.
It was a short drive to the quiet neighborhood, the glow of the streetlights providing the only illumination on the street.
Karina lingered in front of her destination unti
l the cabbie was well on down the street, his taillights fading as he disappeared around the corner.
Once she was sure he was gone, she hurried up the flight of stairs until she reached the front doors. Ducking down, she grabbed her pack from her pocket and unzipped it, staring at the number of tools strapped in place.
It had been ages since she’d needed to use them, but she imagined picking a lock was very much like riding a bike.
Muscle memory.
The minute her fingers closed around the tension wrench, she was taken back to when she had been ten years old and had locked herself out of her room. She had always liked to fiddle with the lock, though Katherine had always warned her to be careful or else she would make a mistake.
She had been quite sure she wouldn’t turn the lock accidentally, but for whatever reason, that day she had.
While she had been afraid to tell her mother about what happened, she also knew there was no point in delaying the inevitable.
Katherine would find out soon enough.
Her mother hadn’t been angry, however—at least not the sort that would result in her being punished for a few days—she had simply left the kitchen where she had been rolling out dough for a strawberry and rhubarb pie and led her into her office off the side of the kitchen.
Karina had stood there in silence, watching her every move, anticipating the moment when her calmness would turn to something else, but she had merely grabbed a small pack—very much like the one she held now—and showed her how to open a locked door.
It was here, she’d thought, that the lesson was that mistakes could be forgiven, especially for a first.
But instead of leaving the door open, Katherine had leaned in and twisted the lock once more before shutting the door again. She then handed over the tools without another word and left her to it.
For a moment, Karina had stood there, not knowing what to say or do, but after a while, it clicked that the only way she would be able to sleep in her own bed that night was if she was able to replicate what her mother had just done.
The real lesson in that had been whether or not she had been paying attention.
White Rabbit: The Rise (The Kingmaker Saga Book 1) Page 12
