When Fates Align

by Isabelle Richards

  By the time I make it to our bedroom, I’ve been awake for forty-nine hours and my brain feels fried to a crisp. I’m so tired, I’m tempted to sleep on the stairs rather than make those last few steps, but I push on. I need sleep, Lily, and isolation from the rest of the world. No crime and punishment, no vendettas and vigilantes. Just Lily and me.

  When I enter the room, the bed is unmade but empty.

  “Gavin?” she calls from the bathroom.

  I walk into the bathroom and find her in a bubble bath, a washcloth covering her eyes, sipping a glass of wine. Taking her glass and taking a sip, I sit on the edge of the tub. “How was… what did you and Em watch?”

  “Eastenders,” she replies, taking her glass back. “Em said if I’m going to live in London, I have to know Eastenders. Did you know that show’s been on forever?”

  I smile. “I do know that. What did you think?”

  She plays with the bubbles on the water. “To be honest, I was so distracted, I couldn’t follow it.”

  Gently, I take her hair down and massage her scalp.

  As her neck relaxes, a quiet moan slips past her lips. “That feels amazing. Don’t stop.”

  I kiss her forehead then whisper, “I’d do anything to hear you make that sound. It’s pure, unadulterated bliss.”

  “Uhhhh huh,” she murmurs.

  She looks stunning laying there in the tub. Her sexy body glistens from the soapy water. I can’t help being completely enraptured by her beauty. But as my eyes feast on her, I notice her bruises and my hard-on disappears. Lily is stunning and unbelievably sexy, but she still hasn’t healed, emotionally or physically. As much as I long to connect with her, my todger has to calm the fuck down.

  But it’s bloody hard when she’s making those noises. Fuck! I’m a cad for even thinking about that right now!

  “So what did you think of Gio’s plan?” she asks. “It’s very Ocean’s Eleven.”

  Well, that did it. Erection completely gone. “It all comes down to this D’ante character. Nigel and Roger have been looking into him all day. They feel his public persona is exaggerated and he’s more of a businessman than a gangster. But in these instances, I’ve often found that the public persona isn’t entirely artificially created. It evolves from somewhere real.”

  “I get that,” she says, “but I trust Gio. I don’t think he would put us in a bad situation. If he says D’ante is the way to make this happen, then I say we take the meeting.”

  “We’d have to fly to California,” I reply.

  She sits up and the washcloth falls, splashing her with water. “Really? You mean I’d get to get out of this house?” She picks up the cloth and wrings it out then puts it back over her eyes as she lays back. “That’s reason enough to do it.”

  “That’s a terrible reason. Tell me honestly, what do you want to do?”

  “I want to do it. It’s the only plan I’ve heard that I don’t hate, that doesn’t make me feel like an executioner. It gives me a chance to get Arrow back and save the other people the cartel’s kidnapped without risking more lives.”

  “Okay, then we’ll do it. I’ll call Gio in the morning.”

  She looks over her shoulder at me and smiles. “Now that that’s settled, will you go back to the head massage? That was heaven, and I need a little heaven right now.”

  I gently kiss her lips. “Anything for you.”

  Chapter Thirty- Three

  Lily

  Em bursts into the room with her hands full of shopping bags. “I’ve got all your incognito needs right here. I spent two hours at Harrods getting anything and everything that can hide those shiners. Annnnddd…” She pulls two wigs out of the bag and holds up the long black one. “You can look like Gavin’s dead wife or”—she holds up the red one—“you can look like Leyla the hooker downstairs who wants in his pants.”

  I put down my Kindle and walk over to her. “You picked up on that, huh?” I pick up the Harrods bag and see at least twenty tubes and jars, none of which I have any idea how to use.

  Em scoffs. “Please, I could smell it on her a mile away. What is it about him that attracts the crazy ones? Present company excluded, of course. The way she stares at him with contempt is an obvious sign she wants him. She’s not the type to go to the mat over a guy, but if you weren’t around, she’d be all over that like ants on honey.”

  “You have no idea how right you are.” Picking up the two wigs, I realize I hate both of them. “Is there a third choice? I could go Katy Perry and go blue or pink.”

  She digs in the bag and pulls out a long chestnut wig. “You can look like me!”

  “Sold!” I take the wig and hold it up to my face. It washes me out a little, but that’s the least of my concerns. “Let’s donate the others to a cancer center or something. You can do that, right?”

  She shrugs. “I’m sure we can find an organization that’ll take them and give them to someone who needs it. These suckers aren’t cheap.” She picks up the red one. “Two grand for this one alone.”

  “Jesus, Em! That’s way too much!”

  “Gavin paid for it, and the wig lady said the more you spend, the better it’ll look.” She kisses my cheek. “You’re worth it, dahling. Now let’s get to work on your face.”

  Mason was kind enough to bring a chair into the bathroom so I can sit while she figures out which of her makeup purchases will work the best at concealing my wounds.

  “So are you nervous?” she asks as she applies concealer.

  “No,” I say, trying not to move my head.

  She looks at me as though she thinks I’m full of shit. “You’re going to meet a notorious gangster, and you’re not nervous?”

  “Eh?” I reply. “He’s not the first, and based on the direction my life is going, he probably won’t be the last. I’m guessing it’ll go well. I’m two for two for gangsters that I’ve had clandestine meetings with who haven’t tried to kill me.”

  She screws the cap on one tube then breaks the seal on another. “Now there’s a stat to brag about.”

  I glare at her. “How many gangsters have you sat down with?”

  “You forget,” she says as she squeezes some foundation on a sponge, “I’ve had dinner with the president. Ain’t no bigger gangster than the Commander in Chief.”

  “You love to throw that little tidbit into conversation whenever you can, don’t you?” I roll my eyes. “I guess you could call him that, but there’s no way the president’s going to pull out a gat and shoot you if you say the wrong thing.”

  She cocks her head. “Do they still call it a gat?”

  I laugh. “No clue, I could be behind the times. It’s been a while since I’ve hung out in the hood. But to get back to your question, no, I’m not worried at all. I’m actually excited. I need to get out of this house for one, and two, I think Gavin and I could use a change of scenery.” I wince when she presses a little too hard on my bruise.

  “Sorry,” she says. “You’re hoping the California sunshine will bleach his brain and he’ll forget you tore out his heart and did a Mexican tap dance on it?” She pretends to throw a hat on the floor and does a Jarabe Tapatío.

  I flash her a dirty look. “Stop being so melodramatic. It’s not like that. We’re fine.”

  She smacks my shoulder. “Don’t make that face; it’ll screw up your makeup. And no, I’m not. Have you even talked about it since?”

  I nod. “A little. As much as we could with everything going on. That’s why he’s so amazing. I know he’s hurting, but he’s put it all aside so he can be there for me. And not in the passive aggressive way, where he claims he’s fine but makes digs whenever he can. He’s with me one hundred percent, no resentment.”

  She brushes on some powder. “Because he’s perfect, and he’s devoted to you.” She leans forward so she’s speaking right into my ear. “And you told him no.”

  “I said yes to forever and no to a stupid institution. There’s a difference, and we’re fine. Enough about me.
Have you talked to Max?”

  “So what’s the plan?” she asks, ducking my question. She closely examines her work, adding a little more powder here and blending a little more there.

  “Ha! That’s what I thought,” I say with a smirk. “We’re only in LA for the night, then we fly to DC.”

  “Fabulous!” she exclaims. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “I don’t know. It’ll just be planning and strategizing. We’ll be too busy to hang out. I’m not even sure how long we’ll be there. It all depends on how this meeting in LA goes. If this guy chooses to work with us, the next step will be on his timetable. It might be a wasted trip for you.”

  She uses a pencil to darken my eyebrows. “Too bad. When your best friend is kidnapped and believed dead, then same best friend plots dangerous revenge plans that could put her in the crosshairs again, you visit as often as possible. So if you’re in the States, I’ll be with you. Plus, you need me to do your makeup.”

  The look in her eye tells me how serious she is. From everything she’s told me, this experience has rocked her. It makes sense that she might be a little clingy until she works through it. She’s always been there for me when I needed her, so how can I possibly say no? “Fair enough, but don’t be surprised if it’s boring. And Max will be there.”

  “I know. I’m actually planning on talking to him either tonight or maybe when I get to DC. We need to clear the air.” She hands me the hand mirror. “Voilà! What do you think?”

  “Wow, that’s amazing! I can’t see even a hint of a bruise.”

  She smiles. “What can I say? I have a gift.”

  I look at my face closely. It’s really a miracle. Not a hint of anything. “It’s too bad I’ll never be able to recreate this.”

  “Sure, you will. We’ll Skype, and I’ll walk you through it step by step.” She packs up the makeup into a travel case then opens my suitcase. “I’m just going to zip it in here so it doesn’t fall out.” She unzips the interior compartment and the manila envelope Gio gave me falls out. “Need this?” she asks, holding it up.

  I take it from her. “Yeah, Lorenzo left this for me. I’m going to need to open it sooner or later.” I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at it, as though it will give me a clue as to what’s inside.

  She takes the envelope and opens it. “No better time than the present.”

  My jaw drops, although I shouldn’t be shocked. Em has never been good with boundaries. “Well, alrighty then. Looks like I’m reading it now.” I tip the envelope upside down, and a key falls out.

  Em picks up the key. “H and M Storage?”

  I shake my head. “Typical Lorenzo. Freaking cloak and dagger.”

  She hands the key back to me. “Do you have any idea what it could be?”

  I put the key back in the envelope and tuck it back in the bag. “None. Knowing Lorenzo, it’s probably a clue to another clue.”

  There’s a knock on the door, then Gavin walks in.

  I stand and twirl. “What do you think?”

  “Emily, you did a smashing job.” He pulls me to him. “But of course I could recognize you anywhere.”

  Em pushes her way between us. “No kissing. It will screw up her makeup.”

  He glowers at her. “That’s a terrible plan.”

  Em crosses her arms. “So is her getting killed.”

  “Fine,” he replies. “I just need a few minutes to change, then we can head to the airport.”

  Em hooks her arm through mine. “We’ll be downstairs.”

  I blow him a kiss as we leave the room. He’s smiling and in good spirits. I think Em’s making a far bigger deal of his proposal than it needs to be. It seems as though the whole thing has blown over.

  Ten minutes later, Gavin comes down the stairs, and my jaw hits the floor. He’s wearing jeans, a button-down plaid shirt, and a baseball cap. In all of the time I’ve known him, I’ve seen him wear jeans maybe twice, which is a shame because I swear denim was invented for him. The jeans rest low on his hips and catch his ass just the right way to hint at the amazingness underneath. The shirt is unbuttoned a few buttons, giving just a peek of his spectacularly defined chest. It’s my Gavin under there, but that’s so not my Gavin. As he walks farther down the stairs, I gasp. Cowboy boots. I had no idea Gavin owned cowboy boots, but if I have anything to say about it, he’ll be wearing them more often. Like all the time.

  Em elbows me then wipes my chin. “You’ve got a little drool right there.”

  I elbow her back. “Damn, Oxford. You look…”

  “American? That’s what I’m going for,” he says in a horrible country accent.

  I put my hand on his chest. “You know how I shouldn’t try an English accent? No American for you.” I place a sweet kiss on his soft lips. “Plus the English accent is much sexier.” I smack his behind. “The jeans, on the other hand, are a keeper.”

  He groans. “You know I hate them.”

  “But you look so good in them. And the boots?” My eyes go as wide as my smile. “There are no words for the boots.”

  He looks at his watch. “We must be going.”

  I look around. “Where’s Max? Where’s Nigel? This place has been like Grand Central Station for the last week, and now it feels so empty.”

  “Nigel and the boys flew to Mexico this morning to consult with the team there. Max is in his room, pouting I suppose,” Gavin says.

  I run my finger down his shirt, still in awe that he even owns plaid. “I know he disagrees with the plan, but he needs to get over it.”

  Gavin threads his fingers through mine. “That’s what I told him. He flies out to DC tonight. Once he’s back with Greene and Sully, I’m sure he’ll perk up. Gio is meeting them tomorrow morning to introduce them to the other agents.”

  I scrunch up my nose. “Does it feel weird to anyone else that we’re working with this group of government officials that are on the take? It just feels wrong. I bet Greene’ll have a big problem with it.”

  Em smacks my shoulder. “Don’t make that face! It’ll ruin your makeup!”

  “I know what you mean,” Gavin replies. “Gio said he’s not going to address the reasons they’re agreeing to work with us, so as long as Max keeps it to himself, I think we’ll be fine. Otherwise, it would be so awkward.”

  Isaac pops his head in the front door. “We need to go if we’re going to make the plane on time.”

  Gavin turns to Em. “What is your plan? You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

  “I’m going to fly out later tonight.” She points upstairs. “I have a few things to try to sort out before I go.”

  Gavin hugs her. “I wish you luck. Have a safe flight home.”

  Em opens her arms toward me. “Come here, you!” She pulls me into a massive bear hug and doesn’t let go until Isaac insists we leave and Gavin pulls us apart.

  She pokes Gavin in the chest. “Keep her safe.”

  An hour later, we pull up to a private hangar. Isaac grabs our bags from the trunk, and Gavin leads me on board.

  My eyes go wide the moment we step on the plane. “Well, that seals that deal.”

  “What’s that, luv?”

  “I’ll never be able to fly commercial again. I’ve been spoiled and can never go back.”

  He kisses me then takes my carry-on. “You never have to.”

  “Why did we always fly commercial before?”

  He slides my bag in a compartment. “Every time we’ve flown together, you wanted to make the arrangements, and I’ve learned not to argue with you. Had I suggested a private plane, you probably would have freaked out.”

  “Can’t argue with you there.” I look at the comfortable elegance of the cabin. “I really need to learn to get out of my own way. I was missing out.”

  He kisses my nose. “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Lily

  I look at the GPS and double-check it with the address Gio texted. I’m at t
he right address, but there’s no freaking way I’m at the right place.

  I turn to Gavin. “What do you think? He wouldn’t have us meet him here of all places.” I point at the building in front of us. “This is nuts. Gio must have it wrong.”

  He pulls out his cell. “I’ll call Gio.” After finding Gio’s name, he dials then puts the call on speaker.

  “If you’re calling me, that means you’re not with D’ante. Making him wait is a sign of disrespect. You’ve seen enough mob movies to know how well wise guys handle that. D’ante’s used to being treated like a king, and he has the ego to follow suit.”

  “Are you sure about this address?” I ask.

  “Positive. Would I steer you wrong?”

  I hear the smile in his voice, and I can’t help but feel like I’m being pranked. I put my hand on the door handle. “Let’s go then. I guess.”

  After navigating the building, we find the restaurant.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter.

  “Good morning,” the hostess says from behind the podium. “Welcome to Storytellers Café. Do you have a reservation?”

  “We’re meeting someone here,” Gavin says. “The name’s under Smith.”

  She looks down and, surprisingly, says, “The rest of your party is already seated. Right this way.”

  We follow her through a maze of tables to a booth in the back corner.

  The hostess gestures to the table. “Enjoy your breakfast.”

  An imposing African American man in a bright blue polo shirt stands. He’s far more clean-cut than I expected. When Max said D’ante runs one of the largest gangs in the country and is known to be ruthless and strike fear into the hearts of even the most hardened criminals, I envisioned more Boyz in the Hood, with bandanas and pants that sagged to his knees and a gold grill in his front teeth. But he’s more Boys II Men, with a blinding white smile and pants that fit just fine. He’s wearing flip-flops, for Christ’s sake. How intimidating can a man in flip-flops be?

  Once the hostess leaves, I look at my red maxi-dress. “Looks like I wore the wrong color. I never thought to ask. Am I in trouble?”