As her…I didn’t know what we were. More than friends. More than a fling—hell, we hadn’t even slept together yet. We were less than a couple…at least for now. As her ‘something’, it was tearing me apart to be lying to her. She didn’t deserve it.
“She doesn’t deserve anything that’s happened to her lately,” I muttered aloud, drawing curious looks from the people in the next booth over. I didn’t care. They could look all they wanted. I needed to figure everything out, but there were vital pieces of information missing.
With any luck, Detective Peters would be able to track down Feldman’s last known location, and if we were even luckier, speak to some men who were in prison with him. Kirsten’s meeting with Sergei could have brought many things to light. I could only hope.
I pushed away my coffee cup, stood up and visited the restroom before leaving. I stared at myself in the mirror—God, the lack of sleep and stress from the case were giving me black eyes.
Was this my life now? Was every stressful case I worked on going to chip away at my exterior until I looked twenty years older than I actually was? It was easy to deal with all of this for Kirsten’s sake, but what about later?
Was I really cut out for law as a career? It wasn’t something I’d considered before. I hadn’t really had a choice. My father had told me I’d go into law. In truth, I’d reveled in the challenge and competition of studying it at college—trying to best my peers (especially Ian). I got a high from cracking a particularly difficult case, getting the top grade in all of my classes. It had all been one big game.
It seemed like a stupidly obvious thing to say, but it definitely didn’t feel like a game now. I doubted I’d ever get that feeling back. If the rest of my career was going to be like this case—slowly draining the life out of me while making me wonder whether there was that much difference between being a member of the mob and legally defending crooked clients—did I want it? Was this really what I wanted for myself?
I shook my head, watching the motion in the mirror as I did so. Now was not the time for such thoughts. I could think about myself later.
After all, Kirsten had wanted to leave Vegas. There was no reason why we couldn’t do that after we had whoever framed her behind bars. We could go anywhere. I wouldn’t even have to be a lawyer. The idea sounded alluring.
So hold on to it, Rafe, I told myself. Hold on to that dream and get through the next few weeks. Just hold on.
It was all well and good to tell myself this, another experience to live through the next few weeks, but I had to do it for Kirsten. I had to. The look on her face as she kneeled on the floor of her bedroom staring at a broken and empty picture frame was more than I could bear. I never wanted to see that look on her face again.
Determination renewed, I blasted my face with cold water from the sink, dried off with a handful of scratchy paper towels, then left the restroom and café altogether.
I could do this. Just a few more weeks, and Kirsten and I could leave. We even had her family’s blessing—well, as much as I could have ever hoped for.
I just had to get through the next few weeks.
Chapter Nineteen
Five days later, and I still couldn’t shake the fact that it felt like I was being followed. I didn’t understand the feeling. I barely left my father’s house, let alone go anywhere remotely sketchy, even if I’d wanted to, but I didn’t.
I just wanted to be safe, even if that meant staying holed up at home most of the time. I hadn’t told Rafe or my family about Sergei’s warning that someone may try to kidnap me as leverage. I figured if I kept to safe places, then I wouldn’t need to. Telling Rafe or my father and brothers would only result in my not being able to leave the house at all, and I knew I couldn’t cope with that.
Not for the first time, I was incredibly thankful Katya had stumbled her way into my life. Though she hadn’t been too keen on keeping the potential kidnapping part of Sergei’s theory secret, she understood why I wanted things to be that way and had respected my decision. It was one of the few decisions left for me to make.
And so it was I took a walk to the local grocery store for some ice cream. It was a hot, suffocating afternoon, and it was Clara’s day off. With the feeling that I was being followed still clinging to my skin, I didn’t like it at all, but I couldn’t see where on Earth such a stalker could be.
There were no cars on the road. The cars parked along the edge of the sidewalk were empty, and the people I walked past on the street were busy going about their lives. Nobody was hanging outside the shops. Nobody had furtive eyes obsessively watching the area.
For all intents and purposes, I was not being followed.
God, I needed to sleep. Or maybe get drunk. I just needed to get out of my head, even if only for a few hours. I guess I’d have to settle for a triple chocolate ice cream instead.
Ice cream in hand, I tried my best to clear my mind as I walked back to my father’s house. It was only a ten-minute walk in a neighborhood I knew like the back of my hand. Nobody would be crazy enough to stalk me here.
And yet…
I turned around sharply. Something didn’t feel right. But there was nobody around, which may have just been exacerbating my fears. It was all I could do to stop myself from running full on all the way home.
When finally I did make it to my front door, I almost walked straight into Rafe.
“Rafe! I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” I exclaimed, aware of my heart hammering away in my chest.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “I was surprised you weren’t in. I actually stopped by to discuss something with your dad, but obviously, I wanted to see you, too.”
“Good to know I’m playing second fiddle to my old man.”
Rafe let out a laugh. “What were you up to?”
“Buying ice cream. Care to join me for some in the garden?”
He glanced at his watch, then smiled. “I have a half-hour to spare. Why not?”
I breathed a sigh of relief at his answer. Sitting in the garden with Rafe and a pint of frozen dairy goodness was the most normal thing I’d been able to do in weeks. We reclined in lounge chairs, sharing a spoon between us as we ate straight from the carton. Rafe took his suit jacket off and loosened his tie to better take in the sunshine.
In the deep, rich late-afternoon sunshine, I saw how tired he was. His face was haggard and ashen.
“You haven’t been sleeping much either, huh?”
He looked at me with worry. “No, but this will hopefully be over sooner rather than later, and then the two of us will be able to sleep like the dead until we feel normal again.”
There was silence for a few moments as we continued to eat ice cream and look around the garden, watching birds flit to the feeders and a stray cat crawl through the underbrush to try to catch one of them.
“I think I’m being followed, Rafe.”
I didn’t look at him when I said it. I kept my eyes straight ahead. In my peripheral, I noticed him freeze up for a second, but then he relaxed.
“It’s normal to feel like that, given everything that’s going on.”
“So you think I’m being crazy?”
“No, I think you’re exhausted and stressed and well within your rights to believe someone is following you.”
“But you don’t personally think anyone is, do you?”
“No. They’d be insane to try to stalk you around these parts. It’s not logical.”
I knew everything Rafe was saying was exactly what I’d been thinking, but not having him even entertain the idea that someone was stalking me kind of stung. Why would he not believe me? Did he honestly think I was being paranoid?
I stood up abruptly.
“You’re right. I’m tired. I’m going to head upstairs to try to sleep. Bye, Rafe.”
“Kirsten.”
I held out a hand as he made to stand up. “Don’t ‘Kirsten’ me. It’s fine. You should probably get some sleep yourself. You look awful.”
&
nbsp; I ran back into the house before Rafe could say anything else, leaving my half-eaten tub of ice cream to melt underneath the blazing sun. When I collapsed onto my bed, I was ashamed to feel tears pooling in my eyes.
Rafe was supposed to believe me. After everything we’d been through—after growing up together and falling in love with each other and planning to run away together—he should have believed me.
The man who had been speaking to me downstairs hadn’t been my Rafe. It was lawyer Rafe. Lately, that was the only version of him I saw. It upset me to no end. I didn’t know how to handle lawyer Rafe.
I kept waiting for a knock on my door, accompanied by Rafe’s voice gently asking me to let him in, but it never came. What the hell was going on? Why was he freezing me out? Was he really just being professional until the case was over? It certainly didn’t feel that way.
Maybe I was being neurotic and tired. Ugh, I hated him. And I hated myself. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be.
A call on my phone shocked me out of my hate spiral.
“Have you made it your life’s purpose to scare the living daylights out of me with phone calls, Dean Collins?” I asked when I answered the phone.
“Not intentionally, but that sounds pretty appealing,” he replied, though he sounded uncharacteristically serious.
I frowned. “What’s up?”
“We’ve had a suspicious customer in the last few days. Actually, he came in once or twice asking for you personally a few weeks ago, but you hadn’t been in the clinic, so I didn’t even think to mention it to you. When he came in this time, he wasn’t asking for you, which was odd. He brought in a cat he said was having some stomach problems. Thing is, I distinctly remember a woman coming in telling me her cat had been stolen and to look out for it if I could.”
“Definitely the same cat?”
“Definitely. She gave me some photos—the cat’s markings match exactly.”
“If he wasn’t asking for me this time, what was he doing?”
“That’s the thing, I’m not sure. I think he might have been looking for something. I’m wondering if he has something to do with the drugs charges against you. He may have been trying to get his hands on some of our supply.”
“Did you say anything to him about the cat?”
“I told him yesterday I’d need to keep it in overnight to run some tests but he could pick up the cat this afternoon. He never showed. I think he’s on to me.”
“Do you have any evidence he was snooping about?”
“I’m just looking through the CCTV footage now. Should I send it over to Rafe or the detective working your case?”
“No,” I replied, a little too quickly and forcefully. “No. Send it to me. It might be nothing. I should at least see if I recognize him first.”
Dean didn’t sound altogether convinced. “If you’re sure.”
“Definitely. Did he give a name?”
“John Rogers, but I’m pretty sure it’s fake. I didn’t think to press him about it at the time.”
“That’s no problem, Dean. Thanks for letting me know.”
“O’Leary…be careful.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just,” he let out a weary sigh, “I’m worried this guy might be following you or is looking for you. Have you seen anyone suspicious around your neighborhood lately?”
“I—I haven’t seen anyone, but I honestly feel like someone is following me. I thought I was going crazy.”
“Don’t say that. There’s every reason to believe that’s exactly what’s happening right now. You’ve got to be extra vigilant, okay?”
And just like that, Dean believed me. He didn’t throw my worries away or pin them on neurotic delusions.
Why couldn’t Rafe do that?
I smiled slightly. “I will. Don’t worry—I was double checking every street corner before I went round it already.”
“That’s going a little far,” he laughed, “though I wouldn’t be against you locking yourself up in your father’s house until this all blows over.”
“As if.”
“Well, if you’re not going to be contained, are we still on for dinner tomorrow? Rose can make it, too, and I’m sure between the three of us in a public space, we could ward off any wannabe stalkers.”
“Hilarious. Yes, I’m in; God knows I need a break.”
“Good to hear. Right, I best get back to work. Another double shift courtesy of a certain someone being unable to work right now.”
“Way to drive a spear through my heart.”
“Anytime, O’Leary.”
“I hope you get a horrible patient in this evening,” I teased, then hung up the phone to the sound of him laughing.
I rolled over onto my back on my bed, staring at my blank cell phone screen for way too long. Dean had known me less than two years, and he had no trouble believing me. Rafe had known me all my life, and he doubted me.
Where had I gone wrong? What did I need to do or say to make him believe me? Should I have told him about what Sergei had said?
It wasn’t as if I wanted to be locked up in the house, which was what would happen if I told Rafe about what Sergei thought might happen. All I wanted was for him to believe me, and to—I didn’t know. Just be by my side, making sure I was safe, I guess. Was that too much to ask?
Apparently so.
With regret, I realized I’d left my ice cream outside. Groaning, I hauled myself away from my bed and lumbered down the stairs and outside to retrieve the melted, sticky mess before a fox or the birds could get to it. I noticed Rafe had left his suit jacket folded on the back of the chair.
“How thoughtless of him…” I murmured as I picked it up and took it back inside with me up to my room. It smelled of him, which meant it smelled amazing.
If he wanted it back, he could come and get it back from me armed with an apology—and more ice cream.
But until then, it was mine. It was a subpar replacement for the man himself, but given the situation I was in, I wasn’t in a position to complain. Not caring if I rumpled up the material, I curled into a ball on my bed with the jacket in hand, breathing in Rafe’s smell as I finally felt myself falling asleep.
Chapter Twenty
Lying was taking more than just a physical toll on me. It was wearing me down mentally, and hard. Having to tell Kirsten she wasn’t being followed when she clearly was had been the most difficult lie I’d uttered so far.
But I knew Kirsten O’Leary. If she knew someone was stalking her, she’d actively try to find them. She’d look around every street corner, inside every car, into every shop, trying to work out who was watching her. I couldn’t blame her for it. It was in her nature. Her father wanted eyes on her, but Kirsten said the only concession she’d make was to stay at the family home. Lord knows if they didn’t agree, she’d find herself in more trouble. Kirsten and trouble went together like peanut butter and jelly. You couldn’t have one without the other.
Given what I knew about Brian Feldman, I wasn’t in a position to risk Kirsten’s safety by allowing her to follow her nature. If I could get away with locking her inside the O’Leary household, you could be damn sure I would, but Kirsten would undoubtedly find a way to sneak out. After all—she’d done it many times before.
None of that made me feel any better. Watching her face crumple with disappointment right in front of me when she realized I didn’t believe her had been heartbreaking. The way she ran away from me to hide inside her room. I’d wanted nothing more than to follow her and explain everything.
Then I saw Ian speaking with his father and thought better of it. The look the two men had given me was reason enough to stay quiet.
That led to me trying to drown my sorrows in a glass of whiskey. It was the good stuff Kirsten had left at my house, which of course made me feel worse. When I heard the front door open and close and the sound of Matt’s voice saying goodbye on the phone, I almost got up to mull over things in my room, just to
be alone. But I didn’t. I didn’t have the energy to move.
“Jesus, Rafe, you look awful,” Matt said in lieu of a greeting when he entered the kitchen.
“You’re not the first person to say that to me today.”
Matt sat down beside me and joined me in pouring a glass of whiskey, uncharacteristically silent for once. He kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eye until eventually, my patience cracked.
“What the hell is it, Matt?”
He looked away uncomfortably. “Katya told me something about the meeting with Sergei—I mean, we tell each other everything, but she didn’t want you to know because Kirsten had made her promise not to say—”
“Just tell me,” I interrupted, rubbing my temple. Kirsten had kept something from me about her meeting with Sergei, despite me expressly saying in no uncertain terms was she to keep anything from me.
“Sergei told her it was likely the members of the Russian mob he imagined being responsible for the drugs charges against Kirsten would try to kidnap her so they could blame it on Sergei.”
I stared at my brother, bug-eyed. “And you’re only telling me this now?” Kirsten had been worried she was being followed if she’d heard that. If she was being stalked by both the Russian mob and Brian Feldman…oh holy hell.
She wasn’t as safe in this neighborhood as I’d thought. If the two groups were working together, as Liam O’Leary had hypothesized, we were screwed.
I needed to tell Detective Peters. I needed to talk to Sergei. I needed to—
I needed to see Kirsten. I’d been an asshole to her in my desperation to act purely as her lawyer. I needed to comfort her and tell her I believed her. With the Russian mob possibly out to kidnap her, I needn’t even mention Feldman to her. I could support her without raising suspicion or the wrath of her family.
Matt gave me a knowing look. “Don’t drive if you’ve been drinking.”
“I only had the one,” I replied as I threw my shoes back on, grabbed my keys and left.
I was parked on the street outside of the O’Leary house before I knew it. I didn’t want anyone else in her family to know I was there. All I wanted to do was see Kirsten. Luckily, I’d spent long enough with her to know a thing or two about sneaking in and out of her house.
Betting On Us (Wilde Love Book 3) Page 12
