Relentless

by Vanessa Dare

  “I’m sorry, Anna, if that was too much for you. It had to be rough. That’s the way it goes down in my world.”

  I didn’t give a shit about Carmichael’s reputation, which wasn’t the best anyway, but I did relate to the need for realism. Moretti wouldn’t have believed anything less than a nightmare-inducing murder.

  “What now?” Anna asked. She wasn’t eating. Her sandwich sat on her plate, only a corner nibbled.

  “I continue to be the upstanding citizen that I am, helping the police and FBI get common criminals off the streets,” Carmichael said before taking a huge bite of corned beef.

  The four of us just stared at him. He was far from an upstanding citizen, but in this particular case, no one was going to argue. He’d done what we needed, and done it well. The FBI wasn’t going to condone his work, nor was he going to receive a Citizen Of The Year award, but he definitely was in the good graces of the law. At least for the moment.

  “Nick Malone and Anna Scott are dead. It’s not in the news because really, what’s two more murders? You’re done with your undercover work and your captain is expecting you back at the station next week, Detective,” Adam told Jake. “As for Anna Scott, there’s a death certificate for her. Her social security number has been terminated. She is officially—and legally—dead.”

  I narrowed my eyes, considering the scenario. “Legally? How can that be?” I wondered.

  Carrie shrugged. “Her identity was solid. She paid taxes, had a credit card, was a homeowner.”

  “What about her apartment? Her things?” I asked as I glanced at Anna. I’d pushed her into this, and now it was reality. She couldn’t go back to her apartment. She couldn’t get her things. Anna had the clothes on her back and a bank account. Millions of dollars would go a long way to kickstarting her former life, but it wouldn’t make her happy. That fell to me.

  “For now, it will sit there as is,” Adam replied.

  “My will is in the top drawer of my desk,” Anna said, sipping her soda. “My beneficiary is the women’s shelter that helped with my new identity. I’d like to get a few of my things, I can give you a list if that’s okay, but everything, including the apartment, should be sold. The proceeds go to the shelter.”

  I didn’t think I could love Anna more, but I’d been wrong.

  “I’ll take care of it for you,” Adam said, giving her a wink.

  Anna smiled, almost relieved to know her wishes would be met.

  “As for you, Olivia Edwards, the FBI will be issuing you a passport and will fix everything so that you can return to the living,” Carrie said, picking up her pickle. “You were never declared dead, just missing, so it should be fairly easy for them.”

  “I’m not much of a fan of the FBI, but they’re in a generous mood with Moretti being a new resident in one of their cells,” Carmichael added. “He’s been denied bail, so he won’t see the light of day before trial, nor after, with all you've done. If you ever need anything, you two, you let me know,” Carmichael said, his tone serious. “Anyone messes with you, you’re under my protection.”

  “Uncle Frank, he’s a cop,” Carrie countered.

  Carmichael pinned me with a look. “Cop or not, it’s important to know who your friends are. Who has your back.”

  I stood, went over to Carmichael, held out my hand in thanks, in respect. The man hadn’t had to help us, could’ve just left us to fend for ourselves with Moretti. Sure, he’d had a personal stake in the man’s downfall, but even Carmichael had a sense of right and wrong. He might have blurred lines when it came to the law, but he protected the weak, he took care of his friends. He chose good over bad, at least for us.

  Carmichael stood, looked me in the eye—man to man—and took my hand. We shook, but he pulled me into a hug, solid and strapping. Adam and Carrie laughed at the surprise on my face. I couldn’t hide it. I was being hugged by the most powerful businessman on the East Coast. The man didn’t hug everyone, so I took it for what it was, a sign of respect, of belonging.

  “Let me know if you’re looking for a job,” he said as he sat back down, picked up his sandwich once again.

  I eyed him. Was he serious? “Me?”

  “No, Anna.” He was serious.

  Her mouth fell open as she pointed at herself. “Me?”

  Over my dead body.

  Carmichael grinned. “I saw the video. You broke that guy’s nose with a damn head butt. Plus, I swear you launched the other guy across the room. You’re one tough little lady. And boys will be boys. Most of the time, they don’t suspect a woman until it’s too late.”

  From a guy like Carmichael, tough was a huge compliment.

  Anna paused. I could tell she was thinking about what to say to that. “Wow. Um…thanks, Mr. Carmichael, that’s really sweet. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Carmichael just shrugged. “And you, Griffin. You’ve got a pretty decent resume. You were a big shot in Moretti’s group, you know the ins and outs of the underworld. Military man. Years on the force. I could use a man like you.”

  I may have worked my way up the ranks with Moretti pretty fast, but I didn’t fall for the flash and sizzle that went along with it. I’d stuck to my crappy apartment the force had arranged. I didn’t go in for the expensive clothes, the women. The money. The power. That’s what brought men down. That was Moretti’s downfall in the end. It wouldn’t be mine.

  I glanced at Adam and Carrie, who’d been quiet. “I’ve never seen him offer a job to anyone before,” Adam replied.

  “You’d live nearby,” Carrie added with a shrug.

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I wouldn’t show the man who’d just saved my life such disrespect. Still, I was a cop, not a criminal. It was one thing to work with him, another to work for him. “Like Anna said, I’ll keep it in mind.”

  My days of working undercover, with working for guys like Moretti and Carmichael were over. There was no way in hell I’d accept another assignment like that. I was too old for that shit. Too in love. That kind of work was for loners, loners who were bitter and had no one loving them, no woman waiting for them to come home every night.

  Anna and I had a future together. Neither knew what it might be, but that was okay. As long as she was with me, we could do anything.

  “What about your ex?” Carrie asked Anna, changing topics.

  “I’ve got some ideas,” she replied, glancing my way. “I can help my half-sister and deal with Todd at the same time.”

  “Don’t you want to tell your dad to fuck off, too?” Carrie asked. Adam and Carmichael looked at Carrie with curiosity. “I haven’t told them. Privileged information, remember?”

  I didn’t doubt Carrie would keep her word. It went beyond legal responsibility with her.

  “It’s fine. You can tell them. Over drinks. Lots and lots of drinks.”

  “This is going to be interesting,” Adam murmured.

  “To answer your question, no.” She looked at Adam. “My father didn’t want me. Plain and simple. He got rid of me when I was six, then handed me off to Todd, my ex, at almost eighteen. I don’t want anything to do with him.”

  Anna glanced at me and I could see a little hurt in her eyes. Her dad had dented her, but hadn’t done damage. He’d pretty much abandoned her to boarding school, but Anna seemed to be recognizing it was probably for the best. The guy was an asshole. She was better away from him.

  Todd Lawton, on the other hand, was going down.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Anna

  Two days later, I looked out at the spectacular view from our hotel room in San Francisco. I hadn’t been back since the day I was released from jail and disappeared almost twelve years ago, but San Francisco looked the same. Same tourists, same famous skyline. The only thing that seemed to have changed was me. I was older, definitely wiser, and accompanied by the sexiest man on earth. Who loved me. I sighed, wistful and surprisingly sappy at the very idea.

  Grif—I still had a tough time calling him that—ha
d talked a few times before we left New York with his colleague Peters. I’d heard one side of many phone calls with the man and they both agreed that steering clear of Moretti’s turf would be safer and smarter than trying to get help from the Denver PD. It would be just our luck to bump into one of Moretti’s men that held a grudge. Instead, Peters offered to reach out to fellow men in blue in San Francisco if we needed them.

  It was a nice gesture, but that wasn’t going to happen. No way. I knew everyone on the force wasn’t bad; I was in love with one of them, but past experiences clouded my judgment. I spent forty-two days in jail because they’d either looked the other way or were in Todd’s pockets. Some were most likely still on the force. Still on the take. If we reached out to them for help, would my return get back to Todd? Most likely. Could I end up back in jail on the same trumped-up charge? Definitely.

  Grif seemed more tied to me than Denver. It could be the sex marathon we seemed to be on. From the relaxed, just-fucked male look on Grif’s face, he was more than fine with the pace. I fell under the feast-or-famine arrangement. None for a decade and then almost more sex than I could handle in less than a week.

  When we weren’t in bed—okay, when we weren’t having sex, because we didn’t always use a bed when a perfectly good wall or chair was available—we talked through our options for making Todd pay. My long-term wariness, outright fear, at confronting him was wearing off. It was well past time I confronted my real, living, breathing demons so I could move on with my life.

  Olivia Edwards was back, for better or worse. Proof of that was my plane ticket, purchased under my real name. That made it official, especially in the eyes of the FBI, who’d helped arrange my long overdue return.

  I’d watched the news, online and TV, for any kind of mention about our faux deaths, but I had yet to find anything. New York had moved on as if nothing had happened. I’d isolated myself so well that even my neighbors had barely talked to me. No one would miss Anna Scott other than my few karate friends, and that was pretty pathetic. In hindsight, it was obvious how depressing my life had been. Grif had been right; I’d been not only alone, but desperately lonely as well. I’d been so fearful of being found by Todd and my father that I hadn’t even known how much of life I’d been missing. Two weeks with Grif and I never wanted to go back. Never wanted to be alone again.

  Worried my karate friends would hear about my demise and dig into my not-real murder—which the police and FBI didn’t want—everyone agreed it was best to tell them a washed-down version of the truth.

  Under police protection, Grif and I had gone to the karate dojo together and told Paul, the owner, and Zach—I owed it to him especially—that I’d been abused by my husband years ago and taken a new name to hide from him. It was the truth, minimally, which made it easy to tell. Grif had picked up the story from there and told them he was a cop who had helped me get my old identity back. Before we left, we told them not to believe any stories they might hear, as the media’s spin could be inaccurate. The men didn’t like any of it, but they had little choice in the matter. They’d been wary of Grif the sole time they met him, but when they discovered he was a cop and was helping—and protecting me—they let us leave reassured.

  My goal all along had been to keep Elizabeth from marrying Todd. I’d had it backwards. I had to keep Todd from marrying Elizabeth. If Todd was willing to try and marry Elizabeth in such a similar fashion to me, Victoria’s illness must be more advanced than they were sharing, which wasn’t anything at all. I’d had to dig for the information about her early onset Alzheimer’s since they wouldn’t share that weakness with the press. An Edwards was never weak.

  “Tired?” Grif asked, nuzzling against my neck, distracting me. It was only four, but with the time difference, it had been a long day. I never tired of his affection, his singular focus he had on me. His scent swirled around me and I was intoxicated. By his smell, by his touch, by his very presence.

  My skin tingled as his hands moved from my waist and up to cup my breasts. “Not anymore,” I murmured, followed by a moan. When he licked the spot where my shoulder met my neck, I didn’t say anything else for quite some time.

  ***

  Three hours later, there was a knock on the door, waking me from a post-orgasm nap. I was in bed, on my stomach, sprawled next to Grif. His hand, which had been resting on my thigh, clenched at the sound right before he jumped up. He’d brought me to orgasm in the shower, under the guise of getting clean after our long trip, before we wore each other out in bed directly after, beads of water still clinging to our skin. I tugged the sheet over my body as Grif moved quietly to grab his boxers that were strewn with our other clothes across the floor.

  He’d checked his gun with the airline, but had put it within easy reach once we’d checked in to the hotel. Taking the weapon from the nightstand, he made his way barefoot to the door. I was instantly wide awake, my heart pounding at the sight. No one knew where we were staying except Grif’s colleague Peters. We’d left the local police in the dark, for now, but his partner was our link to help if we needed it.

  We hadn’t called room service, so who was there? I climbed from the bed, grabbed Grif’s white shirt off the floor and slipped my arms through the sleeves. Whoever it was, I didn’t want to be completely naked when Grif opened the door. Or shot them through it.

  With his gun by his ear, he looked through the peephole. I saw every muscle in Grif’s body relax, tension seeping out as he sighed. He dropped his weapon, letting it rest against his muscular thigh. Set the safety. He ran his free hand over his face and glanced at me.

  “Who is it?” I whispered, staring at his weapon.

  Instead of answering, he opened the door.

  “Oh.” The sound escaped when I saw my half-sister for the first time. I stood there, like a statue, wearing nothing but Grif’s unbuttoned shirt. It barely covered my thighs and my fingers gripped the front together. I flushed and tugged the hem down with my other hand. Grif held the door open in just his boxers, which hung low on his lean hips. Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open and she just stared at the just had sex tableau we portrayed.

  “Um…wow. You’re so beautiful,” I said, taking in her long blond hair, jeans and crisp white blouse. She had sandals on her feet and silver hoops in her ears. Her makeup was artfully applied and she was oh so young. She was taller than me by several inches, built more willowy and graceful like her mother. No one would take us for sisters.

  She stared at me, too. Ugh. What a great first impression I made. I hadn’t had sex in over ten years and now I looked the complete slut.

  “Can I come in?” she asked, looking between the two of us. She was chewing gum and she wore a silver thumb ring, both helping me to remember she was just a teenager.

  Taking a step forward, I shook my head to clear it. “Of course. This is my…um…Grif.”

  I didn’t know what he was exactly. Lover, definitely, but I wasn’t going to tell that to Elizabeth. She obviously knew that now, but I didn’t have to reinforce it. Boyfriend was probably accurate, but it wasn’t sufficient. He was more. So much more. I had to ask him about that. Sometime.

  He closed the door behind her, then held out his hand with a smile. She took it as her gaze raked over his chest and arms.

  “I’ll just go and get dressed,” he replied, offering me a quick wink as he moved past me. Was he blushing?

  I know I was. “Let me get some clothes on, too.” I started buttoning Grif’s shirt as I went over to my suitcase, pulled out a pair of cargo shorts.

  “I’m sorry if I…um…interrupted anything.” Her voice was soft, cultured.

  I glanced at her as I pulled up my shorts, buttoned them, let the large shirt fall. This wasn’t how I envisioned this moment to go. Caught with post-sex hair, wearing just a man’s shirt. Unbuttoned. With said man answering the door in just his plaid boxers. Seriously, it couldn’t be worse.

  “We were actually asleep.” Like she was going to believe that. I tossed the be
dspread back up over the pillows, sat on the edge.

  “Please, sit.” I pointed to the only chair in the room. She sat, crossed her long legs beneath her, popped her gum. She had freckles across the bridge of her nose, clear gloss shiny on her lips.

  “I’m sorry I’m staring. I’ve known you your whole life but have never met you.” I pinched my lips together, glanced down at my fingers in my lap. “It sounds ridiculous.”

  She shook her head, her straight hair slipping over her shoulder, then pushed it back with her hand. “Knowing our family, it’s not ridiculous at all.”

  “I didn’t think…did you even know about me?”

  “My mother…you remember her?”

  “Yes,” I replied. I didn’t need to go into details and alienate the girl before I knew anything about her.

  “She has Alzheimer’s. Early onset. I didn’t know you existed until three years ago when her mind started to go. Before that, I thought I was an only child. She was cold. Distant. My mother and I never saw eye to eye on anything. Ever. When I was little, I’d pick out my clothes only for her to make me go change. Every day. After a while, I used to put on the ugliest outfit just to get her riled. I played piano. I didn’t even like piano. I wanted to play the cello. I was forced to play until she couldn’t remember I took lessons anymore. When I got older, she took control of everything I did, everywhere I went. Who I got to see. My father…I mean, our father, was never around. Never. When he was, he went along with whatever Mother said.”

  She wasn’t like Victoria. Relief washed through me to know she hadn’t been brainwashed or turned into an obnoxious brat. She was even completely disinterested in our father.

  “When Mother first had problems with her memory, she’d talk about the past like she was in it. She’d talk about you. At first, I didn’t know who you were, but over time, she’d share more and more. I’d pretend to understand, to ask her questions and I soon realized you existed. I was stunned to know I had a sister. A sister that she hated so much. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”