by Soraya Naomi
For a long time she just stares at me, and then she mutters, “I’m sorry. Thank you for last night. Someone must’ve spiked my drink. Maybe it was random? Or maybe it had something to do with you? What were you doing there? Are you still following me?”
The mattress dips as I drop down to sit beside her hip. “I know you still don’t have a job and that you stay inside this apartment all the time.” Her sorrowful, tired eyes soften me. “What’s happening, Fallon?”
“I miss you.” She places her hand on my thigh.
I stroke the back of my hand down her exposed neck. “Mi manchi anche tu. I miss you too. But we bring out each other’s weaknesses. We don’t trust one another. Can you accept me? All of me? Even when I come home with blood on my hands? No, you can’t. I’m a killer. I’m a drug dealer.”
It’s the first time I ever confessed it to her in a matter-of-fact way, and it makes her wince, so I twine my fingers in her hair tightly.
“And that’s all you focus on,” I tell her despondently. “You think I live in another world, but you forget that it’s the same world as yours. Nothing is what it seems. One day you’ll understand that. And right now, I need to focus on my job.”
I bring my forehead to hers, and my gaze strays to her pink nipples, which are now exposed since the sheet fell out of her grasp and fluttered around her hips.
I need to leave, so I release her hurriedly and rise. “You need to take care of yourself. And be careful.”
Seeing the moisture pool in her eyes compels me to flee toward the door; otherwise, I’ll stay, and I don’t need her to reel me in just when I’ve finally moved on without her. Besides, I have the Syndicate to focus on.
When I’m in the doorway, she comments sadly, “I guess I’m still a little lost.”
“Try harder to find your way back,” I reply without facing her, and then I leave.
When I’m in front of her building, I hail a cab that takes me to my car, which is still parked at the bar.
***
Once I’m in my car and headed home, I contact David, and he informs me that he couldn’t find the guy. Most likely scenario is that the man who followed her into the bar drugged her drink. But why use ecstasy? Why not use a date rape drug? What was his intention?
When I arrive home, I fish out my phone. “Adriano, David lost the guy who followed Fallon into the bar, and I guess that guy must’ve added the X to her drink. Who the fuck would be after her?”
“Well, it must be connected to you,” he answers.
“That doesn’t really narrow down our choices.” I rack my brain on our latest kills: Jack, Alex, and Danny. “What do we know about who Alex and Danny left behind?”
“I already looked into Alex’s family. All clean. His brother dissolved the company, and they all moved on fairly quickly; I don’t think Alex was well-loved in his own family. Danny’s family is a bit more obscure, so I’ll dig a bit deeper there tomorrow.”
“Keep me posted.”
After ending my call with him, I go to my bedroom nightstand and retrieve what I’ve been planning to send Fallon for weeks – something I took from my private room at headquarters right before the living room exploded. I take it to the reception area downstairs and leave them instructions to have it delivered to her the next day.
Once I’m back in my apartment, I go to the kitchen where I pull on the steel handle of the cabinet beneath the island and retrieve the whiskey and a shot glass, which I place next to the sink. I roll my neck and gaze at the label on the bottle. Rubbing my hand over my stubble-covered chin, I consider whether or not to pour a drink. I still take the bottle in hand and tilt it into the shot glass. Then I stop, realizing one drink will lead to more, and I need to keep a clear mind. Especially now, since James has been on my case.
With a sigh, I set the bottle back on the counter – because I refuse to let her get to me. The moment will come when she reveals everything. When she figures out that she does need me and discloses everything I’m missing now. But until that time, she’s not my priority anymore, and I have other important Syndicate business that needs my attention. Nonetheless, this perpetual battle against my love and lust for her is becoming tiresome.
Swiping my arm over the counter, I slide the bottle and drink into the sink, and the shot glass splinters into tiny pieces.
One night with her and I feel like I’ve taken three steps back, so I start the process of coping with the burden of missing Fallon all over again.
CHAPTER 13
Fallon
Luca doesn’t say goodbye, which strikes me as odd. Though it is a goodbye. And that’s left me more disheartened and hollow than ever before. The front door closes softly while I’m reliving last night’s passionate encounter. I scoot back down on my bed and remember everything vividly. How I was able to quiet that voice in the back of my mind, that voice of reason I’ve grown accustomed to in my upbringing. That voice that convinces me it’s wrong to love a killer, a dealer. In those moments, I truly enjoyed myself. It was liberating just to feel happy again. Unfortunately, it was due to a drug. And today, a sense of sadness hits me harder than the last couple of months. Luca must still be following me for a good reason. He didn’t just coincidentally show up at that bar. And there were two moments when I left my drink unattended, so it must’ve been done during one of those times, and it must be related to Luca.
While I should be more worried about someone drugging me, my mind is obsessed with Luca. The anger he unleashed on me the last time I saw him at his penthouse was still there, but the Luca that loves me is the one I woke up to. It felt too good to wake up with him spooning me. The entire night, he was pressed against my back, and I was wonderfully aware of it and so caught up in preserving my sense of bliss that I contentedly fell asleep.
I’m sure Luca knows about the note Alex left. So why does it anger him that I haven’t told him about it myself? Am I still in the dark about what’s going on? Alex’s investigation will be closing soon, and I assumed that would be the end of my connection to Luca and his Syndicate – which is a bittersweet thought because I want to be safe, but I also wish I could be with him. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t consider reaching out, and being with him again brought every emotion back to the surface.
I ache for him in a way I’ve never ached before.
But he’s right; I pushed him away. And I’m clearly not a good influence on him anymore. When he’s with me, he can lose his temper within a split second. As I’m mulling all these thoughts over in my brain, the fatigue wins, and I drift back into a restless sleep.
***
The days after the ecstasy incident, I’m feeling progressively more depressed and even more anxious. I check the front door lock throughout the day, and I don’t leave the apartment. When the buzzer rings on Monday to notify me of a delivery, I journey down to retrieve my package instead of letting strangers into the building. While climbing back up to my apartment, I squeeze the package and frown. It feels like a book, but I haven’t ordered any paperbacks in months.
When I’m back inside, I lock the door and rip open the package. Tears instantly pool in my eyes, blurring my view, while I gaze at the paperback copy of my favorite historical romance novel, the copy Luca gave me when I was held at the Syndicate’s headquarters. I never finished reading this story.
As I clutch the book to my chest, I trudge to the couch and drop down. No matter how much I try to stay positive, I fall asleep while crying, wanting to be held by Luca. He looked good, much better than the last time I saw him, which both comforts and saddens me.
I can’t live like this anymore. I’m the only one holding myself back. Luca has moved on, or at least he’s making a decent effort.
***
By midweek, I crawl out of bed with a newfound determination and write a to-do list on my laptop. First, apply to at least three job openings daily.
Second, go running every day, but be careful when outside – watch my surroundings. No one will get a chance to sp
y on me or spike my drink again. Luca would be proud; I’m finally listening to his advice. I smile sadly and rub my fist over my heart to dull the pain from missing him.
Third, call Detective Wade and inquire about Alex’s investigation. If that case is officially closed, it’ll give me some peace. If not, then maybe I should talk to Luca. I’m beginning to understand the extent of his power.
Fourth, call my friends more often.
Fifth, visit my parents within the next month. I need to stop closing myself off from the world and can’t let others frighten me into being a recluse.
And sixth, ditch the no-carbs-on-weekdays diet and enjoy food whenever I want.
Then, I adamantly decide it’s time to get out of this apartment. I get dressed, grab my laptop, and visit the coffee shop around the corner to treat myself to a muffin and tea while I search for job openings.
Seated at the window and facing the passing pedestrians, I eat the buttery muffin in a few huge bites. The couple at the table next to me are murmuring endearments to each other and exchanging pecks on the mouth, which reminds me of the void inside of me. That emptiness of missing Luca makes me feel unfulfilled constantly. It’s the emotional ache heartbreak causes.
Stop it!
Blinking away the gathering tears, I snap my attention back to my laptop, but instead of applying for jobs, I search for Luca DeMiliano. I researched him when we first met but couldn’t find a lot of information, mostly links to Security Simplicity, and I didn’t look further into it. The first results page shows me the company website, links to some kind of software, and affiliated companies. I click Images and am surprised to find photos of him at parties and other events. Mostly posed pictures of him with a date, always with an attractive model on his arm.
I push the screen down and order a huge slice of red velvet cake filled with white buttercream and an Earl Grey tea and then I actually do send some employers my résumé. After hitting send on my third e-mail, I contact Detective Wade. I bring my phone to my ear, hoping he’ll pick up.
“Wade,” he answers.
“Hi, Detective Wade. It’s Fallon Michaels; I’m calling in regards to Alex Gentry’s investigation.”
He sighs deeply. “Still the same status, but I can’t close it because I have another case that could be tied to it.” He pauses, and I can hear the rustling of papers in the background. “Fallon, are you okay?”
Startled, I retort, “Yes.”
“Because I have to tell you. Your sudden interest in this case is peculiar. I’ve spoken to you twice in two weeks.”
“Well, I just want it to be closed so I won’t have to worry about it.” Shit! That came out wrong, so I hurriedly add, “It’s weird to have this hanging over my head.”
“Hmm.”
That sounds ominous. Nervously, I bite my fingernail.
“I’ll call you, Fallon, when I have an update.” He dismisses me and hangs up.
Another case tied to it? Is that why Luca wants me to open up? Does he think that I know more about the police investigation? I tuck my hair behind both ears, resolute to stop my thoughts from always wandering to Luca.
Lastly, I talk to my mother and make arrangements to visit my parents in Lake Forest this weekend. Then I call Jason and make dinner plans with him for next week. After my phone calls are out of the way, I go to the hairdresser. I usually have my bangs trimmed every four weeks, but I haven’t had them cut in months, so I’ve been combing them back or pinning them to the side to keep the hair out of my eyes.
Now that I’ve gotten out of the apartment and started on my to-do list, I’m determined to move forward instead of continuing on with my current stagnant lifestyle.
CHAPTER 14
Fallon
Moving forward is what I’ve been doing. It seemed impossible four months back when I first came home from the Syndicate’s house. Time has passed slowly, one day at a time, and Luca has started to drift from my mind. And although day by day, the pain and emptiness of missing half of your heart does lessen, the love never disappears.
Occasionally, on random mornings, I wake up, and the ache is just as bad as when he took me home during the summer. Yet sometimes I succeed in not thinking about him at all, but then something small happens that reminds me of Luca. And I’ve just learned to live with it.
I’m actually working different temp jobs right now because I haven’t been hired full-time anywhere yet. I’m listed with an agency for administrative office work, and they usually have work for me in the area of the Loop several days a week. The tasks of the job itself are often tedious, but I’m more than happy to be working and meeting new people since I’m sent to different companies almost every week. And I’m always free to refuse a job, which I sometimes do on the days that I miss Luca most.
I’m also taking a course, Italian for Beginners, every Tuesday night because I discovered that I want those Italian words to roll off my tongue. Maybe it’s a bit masochistic, but who cares? I’m broadening my horizons. I did pick up a lot of words and short, simple sentences while I dated Luca; he would translate for me anytime I asked.
And I’m still addicted to Charmed. I’ve watched every season. Nowadays, a fun night involves Charmed and cake for me.
As I’m strolling toward the coffee shop to buy some cake, my phone vibrates in my hand: no caller ID. I hate calls without caller ID. Usually, I let it go to voicemail, but I have to answer it because it could be one of the companies I’ve applied to.
I sweep the screen with my finger. “Fallon Michaels.”
“Michaels, it’s Detective Kelli Ann Collopy.”
I halt mid-step, and the person behind me almost crashes against my back then mutters gruffly while passing me by.
Wade contacted me several weeks ago confirming they were closing the case due to lack of evidence, so I have no idea why she would be calling me.
“We’re re-opening Alex Gentry’s case, and it looks like you’re going to be our number one suspect.”
I’m still frozen, stunned, in the same position in the middle of the sidewalk.
“How? Why is it being re-opened? And why isn’t Wade calling me?” Fear instantly floods my mind.
“Stop with your incessant questions!” Collopy yells, shocking me. “The point is, you need help, and I can give it to you. I can make all your troubles go away if you pay me thirty thousand by tomorrow.”
I’m now taking slow, unsteady steps forward. This is ridiculous. She calls me to blackmail me, but I can tell she’s nervous by the tremble in her voice. I’ve only met this woman once, but she came across as poised and controlled then.
What should I do?
Just when I thought this was all beginning to blow over, something from my past with Luca comes back to haunt me. Since I have absolutely no idea what I’m supposed to do, I’m wondering whether or not I should contact him. Or was this what Luca’s money was for? I distinctly remember him telling me a few times that I would need that money, but I assumed that referred to the fact that I was unemployed. Taking a calming breath, I palm my head. I’m not just going to pay her off this easily.
“I don’t have that kind of money,” I retort.
“Then you better get it. You have twenty-four hours and don’t even think about getting help from DeMiliano. He won’t help you, you know. He just throws them away after he’s done,” she declares with bitterness dripping in her tone. “Twenty-four hours, and I’ll call you again to let you know where to transfer the money to.” The call ends.
I consider the fact that Luca knows Collopy intimately, and a pang of misplaced possessiveness hits me. Why did she mention him? How do these two know each other?
I keep moving forward, staring at the sidewalk, with my phone pressed against my ear. But when I’m standing in front of the coffee shop window, the initial shock from Collopy’s call is immediately overruled.
Inside, sitting at our table, right by the window with an espresso, is Luca.
He glances sideways, and w
hen he looks directly at me, the entire world around me fades away.
Why is he in our coffee shop? Has he been here often since we broke up?
Our eyes lock, and I notice the small differences in his appearance. He’s stopped shaving because the sexiest beard covers his jaw. I’ve forgotten how Luca can pull off the rugged, yet debonair, look perfectly. He’s not wearing a tie with his crisp navy suit and white dress shirt. His dark blue suit was my favorite, and I preferred him sans tie with the top buttons undone, just like he is right now. While I’ve been lost in his striking features, I’ve forgotten about the call. Again, I wonder what Luca’s doing here.
There’s one way to find out, so I step through the door and start toward his table. Only, he’s visibly not excited to see me. A frown is embedded between his brows, but I march on and pass the other tables to stop in front of him.
“Luca.” I smile uncertainly because his hard gaze isn’t exactly inviting, but I sit down across from him anyway.
It’s comforting to see him – especially after my disturbing conversation with Collopy – and I’m surprised at how badly I want to touch him, to feel him, even after so much time apart. I breathe in his cologne and release a soft sigh when the distinguishable fragrance awakens memories that I thought were long forgotten.
Luca continues to frown as he evaluates me, and I can’t detect any emotions, except maybe slight annoyance coupled with surprise. “Fallon.”
Desperate to end this awkwardness between us, I repeat the sentence I spoke at the beginning of the year when we met here. “Isn’t this a nice coincidence?” I wonder how he’s been doing and what he’s been up to.
A smirk crosses his face. “This time it is actually coincidental.”
“Really?” He hasn’t offered me a drink, and I’m sitting with my coat on and my purse still hanging over my shoulder.
“Yes.” Luca sighs and glimpses toward the back of the shop then back to me. “Sometimes I come here for an espresso.” He holds up his drink.
Obviously, he’s lying because he avoids my eyes, and I secretly hope that he comes here to somehow be closer to me. That’s the main reason why I still come here and always sit at this table.
