Chapter 3
Emily
I spent every waking moment of the following twenty-four hours breaking down each second of my time with Tamir. My inability to focus meant I was late showing up to work, forgot to refill customers’ drink glasses, and even put in the wrong food orders.
I grew up working in my family’s restaurant, so serving customers was as easy as breathing for me, but thoughts of Tamir had disrupted even my most basic of functions. I couldn’t think straight, and I’d slept horribly. It was any wonder I wasn’t drooling in a corner.
If my tita had been around, she would have insisted a hex had been placed on me and taken me to a curradero—a Mexican healer. It would have annoyed me to no end, but now that she was no longer alive, putting up with her antics didn’t sound so bad. Now, I had to figure out my own path. I had to decide for myself if Tamir was a much-deserved dip into refreshing waters or a hazardous whirlpool with the ability to pull me deep beneath the surface.
Any debate was short-lived. I knew exactly which one he was, but would it make any difference? Probably not. My body responded to Tamir unlike any other man, and I wanted to give in to that sensation. I’d been drowning in anxiety and desperation for far too long. I wanted to revel in the insistent yearning he stirred in my belly. Let go of my discipline and connect with someone, even if only physically. It could mean my downfall, but the promise of temporary pleasure was an overwhelming temptation to this starving woman.
My thoughts took me on a sickening Nascar loop of debate, round and round in circles. I told myself that just because Tamir made me feel uneasy didn’t mean he was bad. Then I reminded myself what happened the last time I ignored my instincts. I was drawn to a dark place I almost didn’t escape. I certainly didn’t want to walk that same path, which led to convincing myself that just because Tamir affected me didn’t mean it had to lead to anything. That was followed by a solid ten minutes of fantasizing about what it would feel like if we did go down that path. When I finally snapped out of my lust-drunk haze, I was back at the beginning, trying to find a way to convince myself Tamir wasn’t a threat. That the smoke surrounding him was merely a trick of the eye and wasn’t a sign of fire.
The fact that I had to debate at all gave me my answer. Perhaps if there’d been no foreseeable negatives to befriending him, I could have considered letting him in. Opening up about my life was far too risky on its own, let alone opening up to a man who was potentially dangerous in his own right.
He was off-limits, no matter how badly his chiseled good looks and intriguing aura tempted me. He was my instructor and nothing more.
I didn’t even have to continue training at the same studio. I could switch to another gym at any time. Of course, the possibility wasn’t even worth mentioning because I knew I’d never do it. I wasn’t even sure I had the strength to keep Tamir at bay, let alone walk away entirely. Being near him made me feel something more than just anxiety, which had been my constant companion for months. The electricity between us made me feel alive. Energized. Instead of trudging through each day in survival mode, seeing him gave me something to look forward to, even if it was just admiring the way his arms were corded with muscle.
I had assumed my interest was one-sided, but after our exchange the evening before, it was clear I wasn’t the only one affected. For the briefest moment, I had been certain he was going to kiss me. His body went rigid with restraint, and my lips practically tasted the salt from his.
It had taken all my self-discipline and a dash of fear to shake free of the spell and walk away. From that moment on, I’d been asking myself one question: how far would it have gone if I hadn’t run?
And that was why my boss had been scowling at me for the past two hours. My brain had punched the time clock and refused to go back on duty. However, the city had come alive the second roadway officials cleared the snow from the streets. After only one night of being forced inside, the residents of New York were out in droves. Customers had filled the restaurant since four p.m., something that shouldn’t have fazed me in the slightest, but I’d struggled to keep up.
“Earth to Emily. Come in, Emily. Did you hear anything I said?”
“Huh?” I spun around to face Olivia, who stood with her hands on her hips and a single eyebrow arched high on her forehead. “Did you say something? I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
“No kidding.” She laughed. “Where have you been today? Because it sure hasn’t been here. You’ve been staring at the computer for ten solid minutes.”
“Ay, chinga! Are you serious?” I started to spin toward the front of the restaurant, but Olivia stopped me.
“Don’t worry, I already checked on your tables before I came back to see where you were.”
I breathed out a sigh, and my eyelids drifted shut. “Thanks, Liv. I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted today. I think your dad’s ready to strangle me.” I glanced back at the kitchen, hoping my boss wasn’t aware that I’d screwed up for the tenth time today.
“Don’t worry about him. He was born grumpy. What’s going on with you? You’ve never been this distracted.”
Olivia was a sweet kid. Although she was only six years younger than me, I still thought of her as a kid. She was far more innocent than I’d ever been. Her parents owned and operated the restaurant. They adored their only child, and while they made her work with them by waiting tables, she was given everything her heart desired. Olivia saw the good in everyone because she’d never been exposed to the bad. She couldn’t even fathom the evil that existed in the dark corners of the world.
Our proximity in age meant nothing. For all intents and purposes, Olivia was a child, and I was far older than my years would suggest. It made keeping her at arm’s length a bit easier. She was the one person in the city I called a friend, but we could only get so close without my secrets being unearthed. It was safer for me and the people around me if my past stayed buried.
“It’s nothing,” I assured her. “I ended up training alone with my instructor yesterday and—”
“Oh my God, is he cute?”
See? Naïve in every way. My first reaction would have been worry that he’d done something inappropriate. She was chasing butterflies in a field of wildflowers while I was batting at shadows in a dusky cave. In this particular instance, she was more correct than I would have been, but that wouldn’t always be the case.
“He’s not bad-looking but dating him would be a terrible idea.”
“Why? Does he have a crazy ex or something?”
I chuckled and shook my head. “No. Well, I guess I don’t know, but I doubt it. It’s just that he’s ex-military and super intense, and I’m not sure I want to get into any kind of relationship so soon after moving.”
“Some of those military guys can be scary,” she said with wide eyes. “PTSD and all that stuff. Was he in combat?”
“I have no idea. I really don’t know him at all, certainly not enough for him to be distracting me as badly as he has been. He could be a modern-day Jack the Ripper for all I know.”
Liv stared at me as though I’d grown a second head. “Why on earth would you say that?”
“Because, Liv, not everyone is who they seem to be. Trust me on that.”
Before I could get another word out, a loud sound exploded from outside. I grabbed Olivia and yanked her down with me to the ground. My hand slid down my shirt to pull out a switchblade from my bra, clicking it open in one swift motion. The dining room quieted for the briefest second, then the distinct chatter of conversation and the clinking of dishes resumed as if nothing had happened, leaving me hunched on the ground holding a knife like a lunatic.
A car backfired. That was all it had been, but I’d acted as if there was a live shooter on a rampage.
When I met Olivia’s gaze, she wasn’t just looking at me as though I’d gone crazy. Now, her stare was infused with worry. I released my hold on her, and we both stood.
“Em, what the hell was that?”
&n
bsp; “It just startled me, that’s all. I better check on my tables. Thanks for covering for me, Liv, I owe you.” I hurried back out to the dining area, unwilling to give her an explanation or time for any more questions. It didn’t matter if Olivia was a work acquaintance or my new best friend; I wasn’t opening up to anyone about the past.
This was my new life, and I didn’t want it tainted with the stain of old memories.
After my shift, I took a detour to the shelter where I’d started volunteering several weeks ago. Olivia’s dad let me take leftovers to donate rather than toss them. Sometimes, there wasn’t enough to warrant a trip, but on nights like tonight, I had two large silver containers full of food that the ladies would love.
The shelter was a transitional housing and wellness center, not far from my apartment, where homeless women could go and work on a fresh start. When I arrived in New York, I quickly figured out that I needed to feel as though I was making a difference in the world. That I was doing more than living my own sheltered life and ignoring the struggles of the people around me.
As soon as I started my first shift, I knew immediately that I was on the right track. It wasn’t always easy. My heart ached to know the pain each of the women had experienced. While my part in their lives was nominal, I felt better knowing I was doing something to help.
I realized that a big part of who I was revolved around who I was not.
I was not someone who could sit by and let horrible things happen without doing something.
The stories the shelter women told were heartbreaking and tragic, and so many of them were a result of slipping through the system. For now, I was content to participate on the tail end, helping women get back on track. However, I couldn’t help but wonder what could be done to prevent them from ending up on the streets to begin with.
I talked with the shelter director about that topic and was given mind-numbing details about the extensive red tape involved in removing children from their home or stepping into domestic abuse situations. I hated to think of all the women and children hurting out in the world at any given time. There were people who wanted to help, but our society was set up to minimize government intrusion into the family.
I got it. I understood the need to keep the government in check and allow people their freedoms, but it was still hard to think about. So many innocent lives broken and lost because they were mistreated inside the sanctity of their own homes. A place that should have been a haven.
Fortunately, dropping off food was always a happy occasion. After the day I’d had, I wasn’t up for much more. I brought in the goodies, managing to squeeze them into the packed refrigerator, then chatted briefly with the ladies who hadn’t made it up to bed yet.
By the time I started on my walk home, I was utterly exhausted, but not quite tired enough to still my overactive imagination. As if my catastrophe of a day hadn’t been bad enough, my paranoia kicked in on the way home. I could have sworn there were eyes watching me. I looked over my shoulder repeatedly, almost to the point of hysteria. I was so distracted that I walked straight into the man in front of me when he halted at an intersection. I hadn’t noticed he’d stopped for cross traffic and had nearly bumped him into the busy street. I apologized profusely and scolded myself for being so ridiculous, but the feeling didn’t go away.
The moment I entered my apartment, I made sure all the blinds were closed and peeked in every dark corner. Once my nerves settled, I changed into a baggy T-shirt and sweatpants, then curled up on my sofa with my two favorite men, Ned and Don Julio. Most women my age would pour a glass of wine or sip on a spritzer, but that wasn’t me. I’d never been a wine drinker, and some things you couldn’t erase.
When I needed a little something to calm my nerves, I went straight for the tequila. And not just any tequila—the good stuff—Patrón or Don Julio or Casa Noble. I made sure to keep one of them on hand, along with a few limes, for just such an occasion. Simply feeling the cork stopper pull free of the thick glass made my stomach warm in anticipation.
I laced the edge of my sipping glass with a swipe of lime wedge, giving the perfect hint of citrus with each taste of liquor. After starting my Spotify relaxation playlist, I sipped my tequila and munched on the tortilla chips I’d brought home from work. Salty chips were the ideal complement to the drink even though I rarely wanted any after serving them all day to customers. I had known today would be different and had gone home prepared.
Two hours later, all my worries were dried up like a summer rain. Ned had been fully updated on my day, and my whole body was toasty warm. The moment I dropped into bed, I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep, unable to fully banish a certain set of intelligent brown eyes from following me into my dreams.
Chapter 4
Tamir
When I was growing up, my mother used to say that nothing good happened after midnight. It was her way of defending the strict curfew she placed on us. I didn’t understand as a kid, but after two decades of dealing with some of the worst scum on the planet, I realized she knew what she was talking about.
What was it about the cloak of darkness that set all manner of nefarious activities into play? Even when those deeds took place inside, where the degree of moonlight or sunlight was irrelevant, they still usually occurred in the hours closest to midnight. Granted, the rule didn’t apply to some of the more modern criminal activity, but as for most traditional criminals—thieves, rapists, and murderers—the hours between ten p.m. and two a.m. were particularly sacred.
What did that mean for me? A fucked-up sleep schedule.
The silver lining? It gave me just enough of a window to accompany a certain mysterious brunette home from her shift at the restaurant. I’d known something was off about her but never imagined she’d have a bounty on her. There was no question in my mind that I had to learn more.
Since it was my job to be observant, I’d noticed once, in the past, she’d come to class wearing a Jalisco’s name tag. It was a small restaurant not far from the studio. The perfect place to observe Emily in her daily life. I’d only meant to watch her for a few minutes to see what I could glean from her interactions at work, but when she clocked out for the night, I saw a perfect opportunity to get her home address. People’s homes were always the best source of information.
She was a far cry from a normal target, which meant I wasn’t going to rush into any judgments about her. Evil hid in the daylight just as easily as the darkness. If her secrets were even uglier than I’d suspected, I would turn her in for the fifty-thousand-dollar payout. It would be a disappointment, but if her crimes fit the punishment, that was her own fault. Just because I was intrigued by the woman didn’t mean she wasn’t flawed. I would do my research and find out why she was being hunted. If she deserved having a price on her head, I’d bring her in just like I would any other target. If the bounty was unwarranted, then this became a far more complicated situation.
In order to make a decision, I needed to learn everything I could about the woman who called herself Emily Ramirez. As far as I knew, I was the only one to locate her, but there was no guarantee it would stay that way. I would need to gather information quickly.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only item on my agenda for the evening. Taking care of Chad McDonald, my most recent job, was far more pressing. I followed Emily home, making note of her address, then rerouted myself back uptown to The Mark Hotel.
When I read where Chad would be staying, I had chuckled at the irony. He wouldn’t be able to appreciate the humor in his choice of accommodations, but then, he had no idea he was in the crosshairs of one of the most sought-after hitmen in the country. It was probably best that way. People tended to panic when they knew, making them less than dignified in their final moments.
I normally required a much longer time to prepare for a hit, but Chad was a moving target. He rarely stayed in one place for long, and the Omega had provided ample information for a quick transaction. Plus, the fifty-nine-year-old pharmaceutical e
xecutive was hardly a threat. Prosperity and privilege in the flesh meant he’d probably never broken a sweat outside of the gym in his entire life.
He was never married but had a wealth of friends who adored him—or who they thought he was. As it turned out, Chad had a secret life. More than just a closet homosexual. Darker than any pornography addiction. Chad had a proclivity for little boys.
His perverse interest had budded and blossomed over the years until he had secured an intricate network of connections who supplied him with the objects of his desire. During his stay in the city, he had an appointment with said connections that would last well into the night.
As we already established, nothing good happened after midnight.
Myself included.
Wrapped in a full-length coat with a blond wig peeking out beneath a golfer’s flat cap, I casually strolled through the hotel lobby. When I arrived at the room number I’d been given, I used a device attached to a replicated hotel key card that wiped the coding from the lock such that any key could gain entry. When I was in the service, we used a far more advanced version that reprogrammed locks to accept our key in addition to the assigned key card, making it seem as though the lock was still functional and untampered with. In this particular case, I wasn’t dealing with a political assassination that would be analyzed with a high degree of scrutiny. Erasing the lock programming was sufficient.
Once I was inside, the wait began. That was the worst part of any job—the boredom. It wasn’t anxiety or any last-minute misgivings about what I was about to do that grated on my nerves. It was the endless minutes bleeding into hours of forced attentiveness. I could hardly sit back and play Words with Friends on my phone when my mark could come through the door at any moment. Once I was set up, I had to keep my muscles coiled and my reflexes on guard in preparation of attack.
No, I wasn’t burdened with a sour conscience or forced to question the moral justifications of my actions. I did what I believed was right—end of story.
Where Loyalties Lie: A Standalone Romantic Suspense Page 4
