“Wait! I wanted to warn you!”
I grit my teeth. She may be trying to stall or have a legitimate warning. Either way, I’ll humor her. I replace the phone to my ear. “Fine. What is it?”
“It’s about Alexei,” she begins in a hushed tone. “I can’t tell you too much. I know Nickolas tapped this line.”
I knew as much already. Nickolas is anything but naïve. He holds me under a microscope as often as he can. Since I am currently under his extended protection, his examining is no revelation. “I’m hanging up now.”
“He’s alive,” she hurries to explain. “You didn’t kill him.”
I narrow my eyes as I receive this information. I don’t know whether to believe it or not. A setup is precisely what the FBI would try, and I’m not about to get caught talking to an actress. Hell, they’re probably pinging my phone.
“You’re wrong. I saw him die. I saw the life drain from his eyes. I witnessed his soul leave his body.”
“He’s coming for you, Mishka. You need to run! Alexei will find you if you stay. Nickolas won’t be able to protect you,” she urges, her voice frantic. “I won’t lose you to them.”
I chuckle at the satire. A year ago, I may have believed her. Now, too much water or should I say vodka, has gone under the bridge.
“It’s too late. I’m all but married to Nickolas. I’ll be sure to send an invitation to your gravesite.” I slam the phone shut and glare at it. She won’t call a second time. She’s too smart for that, whoever she is.
I wring my hands together, trying to sort this all out. If the caller was indeed my mother, then she was trying to warn me. If it was the FBI, I’m as good as handcuffed because they got a trace location.
If Alexei is alive, he’ll come for me. As in, come for me like Liam Neeson in the “Taken” movies. Nothing will get in his way. I’m his slave. He owns me until my death. Even if he doesn’t love me, Alexei will want to kill me. Stabbing your fiancé isn’t the best engagement gift.
My options are limited now. Either believe her and skip town or stay and wait for Nickolas. I stand and stare at the books on my desk. Two options. I let out a haggled breath. No, I have another one.
Hustling up the stairs, I dig underneath the bed for my duffel bag. When I haul it out, I find the dust bunnies have multiplied since I shoved it under there. Busy little motherfuckers.
Unzipping it, I toss out clothes until my hand touches the cold cell phone. My stomach jolts as I pull it free from its secretive confines. I bought the burner last December for emergencies. This seems like an emergency if I ever saw one.
Dialing the number for the Virginia Reporter, I hold my breath as the call connects. Naturally, I have the number memorized. I can’t chance someone finding it scratched on a scrap of paper. I have no other choice. I can’t trust Dylan, as tempting as it is, and I can’t flee without help.
“Eddie, don’t let me down,” I mumble as the chirpy voice of a sales representative comes across the speaker.
I’m forced to backpedal to move forward, and it sucks. I don’t know how Eddie will react after no communication when he’s been searching for me. He’s probably pissed. I should’ve contacted him upon arriving in Verde. He deserved to know I was safe. I wanted to email or write him, but what would it accomplish? Nickolas monitors my mail, as I’ve received zero letters since my arrival.
What Eddie has been doing the last few months is a mystery. I hope he isn’t in the military again, but knowing him, it’s possible. He loves it. He loves working out until he bleeds.
I sigh when the receptionist puts me on hold. The choppy music sounds like cotton balls being pulled apart. Repulsive. Being put on hold is a pet peeve of mine. But it’s exactly what I did to Eddie. God, I’m a horrible person. He has every right to loathe me. Especially now that I need him.
The receptionist transfers me to another line and I’m put on hold there too. Lovely. All I want to do is order a stupid ad! I spin a pen between my fingers as I wait. What should I say to him when he calls? Will he get the message and call me or will he ignore my beacon of hope?
I want to tell Eddie everything about me. I always wanted to disclose my familial history, but I’m not sure he’ll understand. I’ve been lying to him for years and suddenly, I’m honest? Yeah, I doubt that’ll fly. He’ll be devastated to hear my name isn’t Rory and my mother was a spy. Oh, and that I’ve killed too many men to count. Yeah, probably not on his list of things to hear in his lifetime. Particularly from a woman he allegedly cares about.
“I apologize for the wait. How can I help you?” A less than sociable voice asks over the phone.
“I need to run an ad.” I wrack my brain for the keywords Eddie told me to use if I was ever in dire need. It’s been a while since I used the code we developed.
“What type?” she asks. It sounds like she’s slurping coffee on the other end.
Hmm, what type of ad indeed? One that tells Prince Charming to get off his ass and help me. I need to get out of Verde before my brain turns to mush.
“A sales ad. I need to sell my antique stamp collection.” I hear the sigh of disgust from the woman on the line.
No, Eddie’s code isn’t sparkly and full of rainbows. I don’t care what the saleswoman thinks. I need Eddie. Ick. Even thinking it makes my independent tendencies shudder. If I’m desperate enough to ask a man for help, then it must be a serious situation. But this isn’t any man. This is Eddie. Eddie, the sliver of good in me. He’d train to be a ninja if I asked. The thought of Eddie as a ninja makes me smile. He’d be a horrible ninja. He’s too tall. And much too important to be flying around the skies like a crazed bat on the hunt for blood. This time, I’m the treasure at the end of the scavenger hunt. Let’s hope he still loves me. I shrug. I’d be amazed if he even likes me after what I’ve done.
My devious debaucheries will come to the surface one way or another. I’m not an idiot. He’ll ask the difficult questions. The ones I’ve dodged for years. If it means I escape with my life intact and him somewhat tolerating me, I’ll struggle through the awkward conversations. He’s worth the scarring sure to come with the truths I tell. Or I could lie to him. Ooh, yes. That idea is never far from my lips. Lying is easier than breathing.
The sales rep comes back on the line for payment information. My dummy corporation bank account was made solely for this reason, the banking number stored in my brain alone. There’s enough money in the Swedish account to buy a small island, so I can’t risk keeping the information on hand. All my personal records are kept in various safety deposit boxes. Better safe than sorry, my mother always said.
I finish with the representative and hang up. Now, only four more papers to call to add listings to complete my round of responses. Once done, all I have to do is wait. I hate waiting.
Chapter Twelve
A day drudges by without any word about my newspaper ad. It’s been published. All five of them, yet it’s unknown whether Eddie’s seen them. It’s horrible to spend my time naked with Dylan to distract myself from Eddie while I wait for Nickolas to whisk me home.
I posted the ads and now I wait. I wait in Dylan’s arms, but Eddie will never know. Okay, he might eventually find out. It’s an addiction I’m supposedly working through. Psh, right. The more of Dylan I have, the less likely I give up sex. Nickolas never should’ve given me the green light to sleep with someone else.
I replace a stack of books to the shelf nearest me. I’m antsy for good reason. If Nickolas intercepts the newspaper articles, Eddie and I are done for. I shake my head, attempting to keep my efforts on Dylan. He manages to weasel my clothes off every time he visits. I don’t mind. Hell, I freaking love it.
Dylan’s easy to be around. He’s not a Russian mobster hoping to hold my birthright over my head and force me to marry him. All he wants is sex. I’m perfectly fine with that.
Per Dylan, he dodges questions from Verde’s townspeople about us. I don’t believe everything emitting from his kissable lips, becaus
e I don’t trust him. I’ve learned quite a bit about Mr. Wonderful. His likes and dislikes, his pain threshold and how to drive him crazy in bed. What more should I know about the man I’m screwing? I shrug. Nothing. It’s every man’s dream. Sex without strings, not even one.
I flip through a magazine before tossing it to the trash bin. Not even friends with benefits because we aren’t friends. I tell myself we’re not friends. My stomach says the direct opposite. I hope he feels nothing for me since I try my best to harbor nothing. It’d be easy if he wasn’t so nice.
Rolling my neck, I yawn. The man kept me up half the night with his craving eyes. I can’t say no to him; my mind won’t let me.
Despite rocking the headboard, I feel somewhat guilty when I think about the man I’m waiting to hear from: Eddie. He never liked sharing me. He isn’t fond of the nympho side of me unless it involves him. He wanted a commitment, while I wanted to test the pools of sex-starved men.
I wonder how he’d react to knowing all this. I promised him my love, but my addiction combined with Dylan’s sweet friction won out.
My burner phone buzzes on the desktop. I glance at it and hold my breath. That’s two. I fidget my legs, waiting for the last call. I’ll answer that one. I continue to stare at the phone, anticipating the call. I haven’t spoken to Eddie in too long. What if he doesn’t want me anymore? I push that idiosyncrasy aside. Of course Eddie wants me. He wouldn’t send out the Bat Signal to all the papers across the States if he didn’t.
The phone vibrates on the oak. I stare at it, unable to budge as it dances along. Answer it! Fear clenches my gut, but I successfully grab the phone before it falls to the floor and shatters. Fate be damned, I flip it open.
“Eddie?” I clasp the phone like a lifeline.
“Rory?”
My heart melts at hearing his husky tone. His voice is like a symphony to my ears. “Yeah, it’s me.”
Eddie sighs into the phone. “God, you sound good. I’ve missed you so much. Are you okay?”
I smile like a love-struck teen. He cares. Why was I even worried? Only because I’m a lying slut. “I’m hanging on, but I think I’m in trouble.”
“Um, yeah, I would say so.” He clears his throat. “You’ve been all over the newspapers since you left. It’s a mistake, right? You’re not capable of doing that to Alexei no matter how much of a dipstick he is, er, was.”
My preliminary high is grounded. Oh, but I can do that and much, much worse. It hurts. The part of me I can’t share with Eddie stings like hell, but it’s for his sake that I don’t confide in him. If he knew what I was, who I am, he’ll have a million more targets on his back. And no love left for me.
“Yeah, it’s nuts.”
Dead air fills the conversation. Talking to Eddie is like coming home. He stirs the memories I forgot over the last months. I never wanted to cut him loose in the park, but he needed to believe I was over him; that I wanted Nickolas; that I didn’t love him. Apparently, our connection is more resilient than I expected.
“Babe, where are you? I need to see you.” His voice hitches. “I need to feel you to make certain you’re not harmed.”
Silence meets him. What am I supposed to say? I need his help, not his undying affection. I can get it later should something happen to Nickolas.
“These months have been hell without you. I’ve been worried sick that someone kidnapped you or killed you. You have no idea what I went through.” His voice is laced with a twinge of anger.
Remorse nags at me. The time away from Virginia has been hellish for me too, but clearly not as bad as for Eddie. I had Dylan to keep me company in many ways. I doubt Eddie moved on even in the slightest bit. He’s loyal to a fault. Other than humping a stripper, he tends to circulate porn and adds photos to his ‘spank bank’. It could be worse, though I’m glad we aren’t a couple.
The sad reality is Eddie will forgive whatever grievance I commit. It’s who he is and a big reason I’m drawn to him. He knows my skeletons and is friends with them. No, I take that back. He’s friends with the zombies I allow him to meet. He has no idea the body count I’ve racked up over the years.
If I give up my location, he’ll be here within hours. I gnaw my bottom lip. Selfishly, I want more time with Dylan. Time to play with his beard, gaze into his dreamy eyes and fuck him into a coma. Damn, Nickolas is going to kill him when he finds out all the naughty things we’ve done. Sure, my sorta fiancé gave me permission, but Nickolas won’t like my boy toy. He’s competition and that never ends well.
“Are you still there?” Eddie’s voice breaks over my thoughts.
“Um, yeah, sorry.” A shovel scrapes the sidewalk outside and I walk to the window to see the culprit. Sure enough, Dylan is hard at work. I let out a frazzled sigh as his fluid movements hold me in a trance. How easily I could kidnap him under the premise of foreplay. I lean my forehead against the frosted window. But, I can’t.
“Colorado,” I relent. “I’m in Buena Verde, Colorado.”
Eddie sighs over the static. Almost as if he expected me to be in Shanghai or Timbuktu.
“I’m on the next flight. Don’t go anywhere.” The line goes dead.
“So much for professing your love,” I mutter, closing the phone. He wants to find me. It’s why he’s in a rush. I give it five, maybe six, hours until he’s standing at my door.
Returning to my table, I stare absently. Packing needs to be done before he arrives. Knowing Eddie, he won’t want to lollygag. Eddie, always on time, will want to haul me back to Virginia before midnight.
Packing will take minimal time, but I may as well start. I glance around the library. The forlorn books will miss me almost as much as I’ll miss them. This sleepy town grew on me, but not nearly as much as the citizens. Ugh, citizen. I need to stop thinking like this. I may be a Russian knife duchess, but that doesn’t mean I can choose my own grand duke.
Taking the steps two at a time, I wonder what the Air Force man did during my absence. It doesn’t matter. I’ll follow Eddie wherever he leads. He’s my prince in worn out combat boots; the guy that’s been through grueling battle and somehow manages to love my flaws. The one I’ll never have.
I pause at the top of the stairs. It’s Eddie I’d choose out of the four. Sure, I may love the way Dylan makes me tingle and the forbidden fruit of Nickolas, but Eddie is the guy I want by my side.
I furrow my brow. Do I really? I don’t know. I wasn’t made for choosing men. Seemingly, I was made for killing them. Thinking about all this is moronic. My path leads to the skhodka. If I’m alive after their destruction, I’ll circle back to being on the Bachelorette.
Dylan’s voice catches my ear. It sounds like he’s talking to someone on the phone. But then there’s him. He may not be a prince, but he is a rough and tumble stud. Ah, fuck, I’m terrible at decisions.
“And that’s why the decisions are made by everyone but me.” I bite my lip. “Too bad. I liked him.” I have no any other choice. I won’t be the crazy bitch who takes a man to an early grave. I’ve already done that. More than once.
Rustling through the drawers, I search for my notebook. I find it beneath my bras. Fitting. I finger through the pages until I find a blank one. This little book contains way too much evidence. I can think of a handful of cops who’d love to get their grimy hands on the information stored inside.
I jot down a couple of sentences then toss it into the duffel. The poor old thing is on its last leg. The seams are tearing and its missing one handle, but it’s seen it all. It saw every time Alexei’s men all but raped and slapped me until I blacked out. You can’t rape the willing is what Alexei would say. Fucking dickweed.
A smirk crosses my face at the memory of the udder shock on the son of a bitch’s face when I pointed the knife toward him. The terror in his eyes was real and damn warranted. He left more than visible wounds on me. He made it his prerogative to rip my heart, my self-esteem, and my entire personality away until I was a bloodied mess. Yes, he made me a bitch,
a slut and liar. The fucker didn’t touch me for months on end unless it was to harass me. What kind of person does that? Alexei.
Be that as it may, the moment of satisfaction when I put the knife to his throat thrives in my bones. He begged, pleaded, and cried for me to spare him. I wanted him to suffer like I did at his hands. It’s why my final blow was one guaranteeing a slow death. Looking back, I should’ve ended him swiftly. Kneeing him in the groin was satisfying even if it was short-lived.
I chuck a pair of socks to the bed. I’m not about to let Alexei steal my newfound purpose but I don’t believe he’s alive. It would’ve taken a miracle to revive him after I sliced his veins.
My right eye twitches at the haunting memories. They surface every night when I try to fall asleep. I recognize Alexei’s face and my knife. The rest is a haze. Blood splatters on my face and drips over my lips then I wake up in a sweat. Slowly, over three months, my brain has pieced together that night. It’s a gory mess, but I’m glad to have the illusions.
The outside light wanes, so I switch on the lamp. Time flies when you’re bored off your ass. The gray clouds heavy with snow don’t help either. I glance to the clock. It’s only four in the afternoon. I’d guess Eddie is at the airport.
And now I wait. Talk about tedious. I take a break from packing and lounge on the sofa. Hope no one comes in downstairs. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath to relax. Dylan’s masculine scent fills my nostrils. Dammit, the man is everywhere! I need to focus on Eddie, but when I try, I picture Dylan laughing heartily, causing his eyes to crinkle. His dark hair and matching beard I so badly want to shave while he’s sleeping, but don’t because I love the way it feels on my breast. Dylan as he tenderly yet furiously consumes my body with his.
Assassin by Day Page 14
