Oh, Reilly was going to be thrilled. But at the moment, she was more concerned about his safety than his happiness.
“What about routines and protection strategies? Any revisions to those?”
“A few.” Alex rubbed her forehead. “Since Stevens strikes at dusk, everyone will be on duty then. Someone will be posted at that little alcove by the stairs to keep an eye on the elevator and stairs. I’ll post you outside to keep an eye on the exterior–”
“Cause, what, you think he might rappel from the roof?”
“Unlikely, I know. But we have to consider every option. He could also break into another room and somehow get from that balcony to ours.”
Sounded like a suicide mission to her, but it was better to be overly cautious than regret being lax later. Besides, the man killed people for money. No telling what his twisted mind might think was sane.
“That’ll leave the rest of us in here. He’ll be well covered,” Alex continued.
Well covered or not, until this whole thing was over, no amount of protection would be good enough.
Fourteen
Okay. Razor. Check. Aftershave. Check. On to the hair dye.
She wandered down the aisle, her eyes scanning the rows and rows of boxes. Why’d there have to be so many options?
Temporary.
The word leapt off the box of one of the brands.
She picked up the box and read the back. Lasted about a month. At which point they’d probably have to re-dye his hair due to visible roots anyway.
Now to pick a color.
The color in her hand was Chestnut. Medium auburn. Why not?
As she approached the end of the aisle, a highlighting kit caught her attention.
Ooh, an opportunity like this was way too good to pass up. And since Reilly would hate whatever they did, she might as well have some fun with it. She reached for the box.
“Lana?”
She jerked. Her hand smacked the box of highlights, which tumbled off the shelf.
Unfamiliar voice. Her name.
Thoughts slammed through her brain even as she whirled.
The stranger stood a few feet away. Mid-fifties, gray-streaked black hair, olive skin, dark eyes. Not someone she knew or had ever seen before.
Wait.
Dimitrios. Cyrano. This man looked like an older version of them. Likely their father or some other relative.
But how did he know her name? And why would he talk to her?
Best to fake confusion. “I’m sorry?”
She bent to retrieve the box, but her focus never strayed from his face.
Blinking, he cleared his throat. “No, I’m sorry. You remind me of someone and I… but that is your name, isn’t it?”
The way his gaze drank in her face flooded her veins with ice. “Do I know you?”
“No. No, we haven’t met. But you’ve met my sons, Dimitrios and Cyrano.”
Okay, identity confirmed. But the mystery was far from solved. Why would Dimitrios and Cyrano talk to their father about some random stranger?
She could solve that puzzle later.
For now, she needed to act natural and get rid of this guy fast. “Yes, of course. I can see the family resemblance.”
“I’m Theo Lykos.” He offered a firm handshake.
“Lana.” Felt a little unnecessary since he obviously already knew that, but she said it anyway.
Digging out his wallet, he withdrew a tattered picture. “You remind me of my daughter. This was taken about thirty years ago, just before we lost her.”
Whoa. Hold up.
Friendly conversation was one thing, but why would he bring up his dead daughter? He couldn’t possibly expect her to serve as some sort of stand in simply because she bore a faint physical resemblance. Or could he?
It’d be best if she simply offered condolences and walked away.
But something, probably the same kind of morbid curiosity that made people look at road kill, rooted her feet in place. Her eyes drifted to the proffered photograph, which was too far away for her to make out any details.
After a moment’s hesitation, she slowly reached to take the picture.
Five people smiled back at her. A much-younger Theo Lykos stood beside a fair-skinned woman with light brown hair. In his arms, he held two dark-haired children, one boy and one girl, while the woman held a second dark-haired boy. The children all appeared to be about the same age, maybe two or three years old. Triplets?
Her gaze slid back to the girl in question, the daughter that Lykos had said they’d lost. “What happened to her?”
“A fire. Arson. They told us she was dead.”
Why was he telling her all this? Maybe the stand-in theory had some merit after…
Wait. He couldn’t possibly think she was his daughter, could he?
Of all the psychotic ideas! His daughter was dead! What kind of man would still be looking for a child he’d buried thirty years ago?
The picture shook in her hand as she returned it. Time to get away from this lunatic.
She watched his eyes move across her face, practically drinking in the details. “Is Lana short for anything? Milana, maybe?”
How could he possibly know that? Unless….
No. No way.
There couldn’t be any truth to his theory. It wasn’t possible. She had a greater chance of getting struck by lightning than accidentally stumbling across her family, especially in the middle of such an important case in such a small town.
Serious dark eyes watched her closely. “It is, isn’t it? Milana.”
She couldn’t do this.
Not now.
Probably not ever.
Even if she was related to this man, what did she care? She liked her life the way it was and she didn’t need these people screwing it up, complicating things with their probing curiosity or need for closure.
Besides, his daughter was dead. D. E. A. D. Dead!
And she was most certainly alive. She’d never been dead, nor brought back from the dead, so she couldn’t possibly be his daughter. Even if their coloring was similar and he did know her name.
Calm down.
So he knew her name. So there were certain physical similarities.
It didn’t mean anything.
The hope that had flickered in his eyes now blazed. “And your family? I mean, were you, uh, were you–?”
“Adopted?” Her tone was sharper than she’d expected. “It’s really none of your business.”
“I’m sorry, but I, well, I think she’d look just like you.”
Her heart pounded a furious beat and she fought to breathe. “I have to go.”
“Please.”
She turned and started to walk away but the pain in his voice stopped her.
“I miss my girl. So much. If there’s any chance at all.” A breath shook from his mouth. “I look at you and I see my sons. And my wife. You have her nose.”
How could she walk away?
The agony of losing a child probably wasn’t something anyone ever got over completely.
But what about the agony of abandonment? What about all the pain she’d felt over the years? Was she supposed to forget about that?
Or could he have somehow learned about her and be trying to pull some kind of con?
That seemed almost as crazy as the idea that she was related to this man.
Her eyes slid shut as she debated what to do. Walk away and forget the whole thing or at least consider the possibility?
What possibility?
So she and his daughter had the same name. There were other Milanas in the world.
But other Milanas with her coloring that had no contact with their birth families?
Opening her eyes, she turned back to him. “You’re wrong. I mean, it–it’s not possible. I’m not from around here.”
“I see.” A muscle in his jaw twitched and moisture lined his eyes. “But maybe we could compare stories. Rule it out for sure?”
She didn’t want to compare stories. She wanted to walk away from this man. And never look back. “I–I need to go.”
“Can I call you? I could give you a few days to think things through and then we could talk.”
No way would she give her number to this man. What if he was some kind of nut?
“I’ll call you.” Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a small notepad and a pen.
“Thank you.” He took them from her and jotted down his name and number.
Without even glancing at it, she slid the paper back into her purse.
“I need to go.” Now she was repeating herself. And in a high, crackly voice she’d expect from a thirteen-year-old boy, no less.
His arm jerked slightly like he wanted to reach out for her, but it remained at his side. “You’ll call, right?”
She wanted to say no. No, she wouldn’t call. Not today or tomorrow or ever.
The words even sat on her tongue, ready to lash out at this man who had suddenly tipped her world upside-down.
Somehow she couldn’t force them out.
She couldn’t keep from looking at the picture he held lightly in his left hand, his thumb unconsciously stroking the little girl’s face.
To lose a child so young; she couldn’t even imagine that kind of pain.
Did a parent ever truly recover from such a loss? The grief on Lykos’ face provided a clear answer.
This was the last thing she needed right now.
She should say no. Not like she owed this man anything.
“Please. Just to compare stories.”
How could she refuse?
This man hadn’t asked to lose his daughter any more than she’d asked to be abandoned. And, as unbelievable as it seemed, what if it were true?
She cleared her throat, but her voice still came out raspy. “Give me a day or two. It’s… I need to think.”
Without waiting for a reply, she slipped past him and hurried toward the checkout counters. She had to get out of here. Tremors shook her legs and threatened to spill her to the floor, but she forced them to move faster.
Oh, Lord. What are You doing to me?
₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪
Peters wordlessly let her back into the suite, barely waiting for her to enter before bolting the door behind her.
Brushing past Mr. Personality, she carried her bag to the kitchen table.
Alex sidled up next to her as she unpacked the contents of the bag. “That took a while. No problems?”
Depended on your definition of problem.
If you defined a problem as running into some guy who wanted you to be his dead daughter and whose story had enough credibility to make you think it might be true, then yeah. She’d run into a problem. A very big one.
But she’d already determined to keep this whole little drama a secret. For now.
“Picking things out took a little longer than expected.”
Reilly saved her from further questioning by joining them. “Okay, what crazy color did you get me?”
Reilly. How could she tell him she’d met a man who might be a blood relative?
“You okay?”
Snap out of it. She blinked and forced a smile. “It was a difficult choice between purple and green, but green goes better with your eyes.”
“Okay, spill it. What’s wrong?”
“It’s a long story.”
One better saved for later, after she’d had time to check out this Theo Lykos guy and see if there was anything to his story. Maybe the guy was some head case who got his thrills by upsetting dark-haired strangers.
She probably couldn’t get that lucky.
“Okay, okay.” Reilly’s voice pulled her back. “I know better than to push. But when you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me. Not like I’m going anywhere.”
The dry tone made her smile, but didn’t shrink the boulder that had settled in her gut.
She couldn’t deal with this.
Not now.
Not when all of her attention, every ounce of focus, needed to be spent guarding Reilly from the world’s best hit man.
Reilly picked up the box of hair color and skimmed the front before noticing the highlights. “You can’t be serious.”
“Highlights are trendy. Besides, it’ll help hide the fact that your goatee is lighter than the rest of your hair.”
“Goatee? Really.”
“You might like it. You haven’t worn one in years.”
“Yeah. Because it wasn’t really my thing.”
“Precisely the point.”
“Gee, I can hardly wait. When does the torture begin?”
“We’ll get started on your hair after lunch.” Alex shifted her attention to Lana. “And Maxwell called while you were out. He’s overnighting the contacts to the hotel so we should have them tomo – no, tomorrow’s Sunday. We should get them Monday.”
She tried to offer a reassuring smile as she turned to Reilly. “By the time Alex finishes, not even Mom and Dad will recognize you.”
The lines around his eyes softened as the tension slowly slid from his face.
Huh. Her words must’ve at least sounded convincing. Too bad she couldn’t sell herself on it as easily.
All their plans, the disguise and secrecy, would only fool those on the outside. If they had an internal problem – as she suspected – then no amount of planning could truly protect Reilly.
₪ ₪ ₪ ₪ ₪
Unbelievable.
Lana stared at the stranger in front of her. She knew it was Reilly. Heck, she’d helped Alex with the transformation. And yet, he looked so unlike the brother she’d always known that her mind refused to connect the two.
Silence settled as Reilly absorbed his reflection in the bathroom mirror.
It wasn’t often that he was totally speechless. Not that she could blame him.
The color had turned out more auburn than brown, a far cry from the blond hair he’d always had. The highlights kept the color from looking too dark for his skin tone and the messy style Alex had created subtracted about five years from his age. The full goatee even helped disguise his face shape.
But his blue eyes anchored her. Good thing there were brown colored lenses on the way or all Alex’s hard work might’ve been for nothing.
Reilly grunted. “At least I’m not going into a courtroom looking like this. No one would take me seriously.”
Where he got such an idea, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t argue. “It looks good.”
“I look like some surfer dude.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
He studied the mirror a few more seconds before running his fingers through his hair. “I guess it’s not too awful.”
“Not too awful? Alex did a great job. In fact, once we get those contacts, I’ll have to take a picture for Des. She’ll flip when she sees this.” Not that she’d be likely to see it anytime soon, but when this was all over, Lana knew Desiree would enjoy seeing this new side of Reilly.
“Well, you better take a picture because as soon as this is done, it’s all going away.” He turned from the mirror. Humor glinted in his eyes. “Maybe you oughta call that photographer friend of yours. Have him take the picture.”
“Dream on.”
“Predictable.”
They stepped out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Reilly turned toward the living room, but she stopped him with a light touch to his arm. “I was hoping to run something by you.”
“It’s about time.” He studied her face. “Kitchen?”
Too public. “Your room.”
Not waiting for a response, she led the way down the hall. She still didn’t have as many facts as she’d like, but the small amount of digging she’d done earlier had convinced her that Lykos was neither crazy nor someone who habitually accosted young women.
Sitting at the end of the bed, she tucked her legs under her. Reilly eased the door closed and joined her.
How did she even begin a conversat
ion like this?
Silence lingered.
Reilly cleared his throat quietly. “So what’s up?”
“When I was in town earlier, I met this guy.” The words wedged in her mouth, fermented on her tongue like rotting fruit.
“Another guy? I’m gonna have to keep a closer eye on you.”
She worked up a smile in response to his teasing, even though it did nothing to lighten her mood. “He thinks I’m his daughter.”
Okay. Not quite how she’d imagined saying that, but at least it was out there.
Reilly stared at her, mouth slightly open, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Wow. Did not see that one coming.”
There was so much more she could say, things she should say, but the words wouldn’t come. Thoughts froze inside her mind as she watched Reilly process the information. How would he handle this?
Probably better than she had, that’s for sure.
“So we know what he thinks. What do you think?” The calm in Reilly’s tone soothed her nerves.
“I–I don’t know. There’s so much that doesn’t add up.”
“What’s his story?”
“He thought his daughter died in a fire when she was little. Probably about two or three, judging by the picture he showed me.”
“Wait, he showed you a picture? Did it look like you?”
“All kids look alike at that age.”
The corner of his mouth tweaked up. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“It proves nothing.”
“Says you. But if he thought his daughter was dead, why was he looking for her? And how did he track you down?”
“I don’t think he was looking.” A chill shot through her and she rubbed her arms to fight it off. “And it appears he just stumbled across me. But he’d heard about me, which must’ve gotten him thinking–”
Reilly held up a hand. “How exactly did he hear about you?” Concern weighted the words.
“He’s Dimitrios’ and Cyrano’s father.” How had she forgotten to mention that oh-so-important detail?
“Really. Now I wish I’d paid more attention when Dimitrios was checking me over.” Reilly searched her face, his eyes moving over her features as if seeing them for the first time. “You know, that might explain a lot. Like the weird feeling you got at the restaurant.”
Deadly Alliances Page 17
