I double check that my gun is in the holster on my thigh. I pat the front pocket of the dress to feel the USB and look to the ceiling, praying I can pull this off.
I exit the bathroom and Jay stops his pacing to scan the length of me.
“I don't like this,” he states gruffly, as though this is the first conversation we've had on the topic. It's obviously not. It's about the trillionth (slight exaggeration, but it feels close to the truth).
I come forward and rest my palms on his chest, trying to look as confident as I can, “I've got this. I don't want this to end badly either. I promise to get out if anything feels funny.”
Jay wrap his hands around my wrists and plants his forehead to mine, “I have a bad feeling.”
“No, baby, you don't. You just don't want me doing this and you're turning your stomach over about it.” I back away and head for the door, “I'll be back before you know it.” I'm proud of how much confidence I'm able to muster. Inside, I'm a nervous wreck and have no clue how I'm not sweating out of my pores. I open the door, ready to go get that file. Scared shitless, but ready.
“Lily,” Jay calls out, sounding tortured.
I turn to him.
“I love you.”
Every part of me melts into his words. His brows are knitted together, trying to hold in a meltdown. I've never seen him look vulnerable before. I hurry over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. He instantly breathes me in.
“I love you, too,” I reassure him.
He nods into my hair and I can feel his heart beating abnormally in his chest. This is really messing with his head. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this.
“I agree,” Jay responds to the words I accidentally spoke aloud.
“You're really freaked out, aren't you?”
“You think?” He bites out sarcastically into my hair.
I tighten my hold around his neck, “You want to wait any longer than we have to to be together?”
“No,” he answers with irritation.
“Let me do this.” I drop to the ground, give him a swift peck on the lips, and hurry out before he can stop me or I lose my confidence and let fear take over.
I head to the elevator, and as the doors start to close I see Jay standing at the opening of our room, watching me with arms crossed over his chest, lips drawn straight, brows pulled together. I give him a reassuring smile and watch him scrub his face with both hands while it closes.
Please let me pull this off.
Chapter 35
9:06am
I knock once on the door to Jax's suite, hard and sure.
“Housekeeping!” I holler, thankful my voice didn't quiver. I'm not able to stop my shaky hands as I slide the keycard through, my heart at a fluttering pace. The green light appears and I slowly open the door. I'm almost as freaked out as when those men attacked me.
I take a moment to pray to every God I’ve ever heard of that this works. I use my butt to keep the door open and I take the handle of the housekeeping cart I had gotten down in the cleaning quarters before coming here.
That was interesting in itself, as there was another housekeeper refilling her cart, staring me down before she asked if I was new. I of course told her yes and that it wasn't my normal shift, in which she asked why I wasn't at the morning meeting. I played it off like I was running late that day and I had already gotten chewed out by the manager and would appreciate if she held back on any nasty remarks. She kept her eyes glued to me as I exited the room.
I knew she was suspicious, but all I had to do was get in the room and get out. The real housekeeper for this suite starts between nine thirty and ten, giving me plenty of time to pull it off. Jay wanted more, but we couldn't have me start too early and risk raising suspicions.
The door opens the rest of the way, and I fall backwards into the arms of a man who's almost the same size as Jay.
“Thanks,” I giggle nervously and straighten up.
He examines me from top to bottom, “You're not the usual.”
I shrug, “Martha's kid is sick. I'm all that was available to come in.” I decided to sound somewhat ditsy and take a guess that he wouldn't remember or even know the usual housekeeper's name. I smack the gum I had put in hoping it would give me something to concentrate on when I got nervous. “Wow, you're a big fella.”
He holds the door open for me and I start wheeling my cart the rest of the way in.
“Sure am darlin', in every place that counts.”
I almost stupidly roll my eyes. Instead I bite my lip and let my eyes fall to his lower half for a long second before looking back up.
“I bet,” I respond under my breath, making sure it's loud enough for him to hear.
He winks at me and in return I give him a flirtatious smile.
I'm about to tell him that I'll leave him be and go get started when the sound of heels and the smell of fresh rain enters.
Arianna stops a few feet from us, “Before you start can you please make sure you have lots of extra conditioner? Mr. Henley requests it.”
My eyeballs almost pop out at her. That was supposed to be the excuse I give to leave the suite. What the hell is she doing? The pit of my stomach has a sinking feeling.
Arianna quickly widens her eyes before making them appear casual.
She wiggles her fingers to the door, “Carry on, he wants to take his shower soon.”
I don't budge and she does the weird eye thing again, this time slightly raising her brows and giving a nudge of her head.
It finally sinks in. She's warning me to get out.
Shit, now I'm just as scared as when those men attacked me.
“Will do,” I happily chirp. My hands are starting to shake and I grip the cart handle even harder, completely white knuckling it. I start to walk through the still open door, but the guard stops the cart and closes the door. His focus is on a figure appearing behind Arianna. Arianna's body stiffens as the figure gets closer.
It's a petite blond, a few inches taller than me. She appears to be in her late-forties, maybe older. Her hair is shoulder length, thick, and teased to be more voluminous. She has thick bangs that cover her forehead and get longer on the temple, coming in a little past the brow. She is dressed exactly how Will always preferred me: kitten heels, tight pencil skirt, feminine figure-showing blouse. She looks like a sophisticated upper-class lady, not a single wrinkle or hair strand out of place.
Her eyes twinkle in an eerie way as she scans me and it makes my skin crawl. “Hello, Miss Evans,” the woman says in a strong southern accent as she approaches me. “It's so lovely to finally meet you in person.” She gestures behind her, “Please, won't you join us for some refreshments?”
I dart my eyes to Arianna, who looks a little pale and her eyes are trying to conceal how frightened she is.
Okay, time to freak out.
I nervously lick my lips, at a loss for what to say.
The woman places a palm and perfectly groomed fingers to her chest. She lets out a whimsical laugh that reminds me of afternoon tea parties. “How terribly rude of me,” she extends her hand and gives me a flashy smile, “I'm Eliza Raine.”
I hesitantly shake her hand. She squeezes it to the point of painful, digging her nails into me, almost taking skin with it before letting go. She steps aside and gestures once again to the main room.
The back of a long blue couch is the first thing I see. Then the four plush chairs on each side that face the other. The chairs and couch all form a circle around a coffee table in the middle. Against the back wall is a fireplace between two large windows. On one of the chairs closest to the fireplace is a man reading the newspaper. The room is surrounded by seven other men, all standing, hands in front, eyes on me, making the spacious room cramped and in need of more oxygen.
“After you, Miss Evans,” she sweetly instructs me.
The guard behind me gives me a shove to move forward. The woman is close on my heels and she whispers down my back, prickling my spine, “You migh
t know me better as Lazra.”
Oh fuckidy hell this is so not good.
“Someone search her, remove any weapons,” she icily informs the room.
The guard who let me in pats me down and removes my gun from it's holster, as well as my wig.
“Sit,” she clips, pointing to the middle cushion of the couch.
I do without hesitation. Two hugely built men join me on each side.
Lazra takes an armchair next to the man, her back facing the fireplace, crossing her ankles.
“Arianna, please sit,” Lazra warmly invites her, motioning to an empty chair. She also doesn't hesitate and sits on the chair between the couch and the man. She shoots me a glance and mouths, “I'm sorry,” before giving Lazra her full attention. This almost has me crying because I can see her sorrow and fear and know she's just as blindsided by this as I am.
The sitting man folds the paper and lifts it for someone to retrieve. He looks around the same age as Vault but not nearly as attractive. This man's hair is a dark brown, parted sleek on the side. His jaw bone is chiseled with a five o'clock shadow and his eyes are dark and brooding. He's dressed casually in dark denim jeans, a gray sweater, and brown loafers.
“Don't be rude, Mister Henley, introduce yourself to our friend,” Lazra reprimands, dusting back her bangs, revealing two scars running along her right temple and beginning of her brow. Once her fingers leave her hair the strands fall back into place, covering them.
I see his jaw work back and forth, “Let's not play games. I've been playing long enough. Let's end this.”
What the hell does that mean?!
I swallow hard and loud.
“Someone get the poor dear a glass of water,” Lazra gives me a sympathetic frown, “We wouldn't want our guest to not feel at home.”
This woman has crazy eyes, no doubt about it. Her smile and voice may appear friendly and sweet, but her eyes, they're pure fucking crazy. I thought Sharp had them, but this woman’s are far worse.
I take another gulp, this one getting lodged in my throat. I take the glass being handed to me and take a big mouthful, feeling it make it's way down. I take another sip and place it on the coffee table, all of a sudden fearful that they may have just poisoned me. Why did I just drink that? Dammit.
“Let me be frank with you, dear,” Lazra starts, resting her elbows on the armrest and clasping her hands together, narrowing in on me with her crazy eyes and a friendly smile, “Your man underestimates me. He thinks I'm whacked and therefore too crazy to be smart or calculating, but you see, I'm not. My plans just take longer to play out than most. I'm a very patient person. This moment, right here, right now, is playing out exactly how I had hoped. It took a few years, but it was well worth the wait.”
“Eliza,” Jax intervenes, “spare her the evil villain speech on how brilliant you are and get on with it.”
“My-my, someone's testy today,” she laughs good naturedly. “Rough day losing your play toy?”
“Hardly,” he scoffs, “You know how I really prefer my women, although she was fun to play with and made me the envy of every man when we went out.”
I notice Arianna dab the corner of her eye, trying to hide her hurt, but it's written all over her face.
“I see your plaything doesn't enjoy being the one played,” Lazra snickers, drinking the white wine she was handed. “Conning people is not as fun when it's the other way around, is it dear?”
“You can go fuck yourself,” Arianna sneers. “So what's the plan? Are you going to kill us?”
I hold my breath waiting for the response.
“Not unless you give me a reason to,” she dares. “For starters, I would appreciate if we could be more respectful towards one another and refrain from any foul language.”
Arianna looks her dead on, “Fuck. You.”
The crazy flares in Lazra's eyes, “Don't make me shoot your kneecap off, dear child.” She snaps her fingers and a guard hands her a gun that she gently places on the side table.
Great, a crazy person with a gun. That always ends well.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my uniform. I put my hand over it, hoping to silence the buzzing.
Lazra extends her hand out, palm up, asking for me to hand it to her, “Would that be my old friend Mister Lincoln?”
“I think it's best if I answer it.”
She drums her nails on the side table, letting her pinky brush the metal of her gun, “Don't test me, dear. Hand over the phone.”
I place it on her palm, starting to get overheated from the two large men I'm sandwiched between.
She answers the phone with a casual, drawn out southern drawl, “Miss Raine speakin', Miss Evans is currently indisposed.”
Even from my spot on the couch I can hear Jay shouting; not his words, but the high volume of his voice. My stomach starts churning and I know shit's about to go down. I should have listened to Jay's instincts before I left.
Her crazy eyes go wild, “Why don't you come here and find out for yourself.” She hits a button and places the phone next to her gun. “This should be fun,” she excitedly claps her hands and lets out her eerie, whimsical laugh.
Yeah, I'm guessing it'll be a blast.
We all sit silently waiting, Lazra drinking her wine with a happy, sadistic smile on her face.
Within minutes I hear the door fly open. Guns draw up all around the room and the two men I'm between plant theirs on me. The sound of thunder comes tromping towards us. I feel Jay's angry fury rolling off him in waves before I see him. I lean forward to peer around the man sitting next to me. I thought I'd seen Jay mad before, but this goes beyond that. I don't even think there is a word for what's radiating out of him.
He stops in front of us, every gun in the room pointed at him except the two on me, but it doesn't phase him as his eyes search the room. They land on me, scan me from top to bottom, and relief flashes his eyes before returning to pure venom, never leaving me, “You alright?”
I nod yes.
“Hand over your gun, dear,” Lazra instructs him, like a two year old they are trying to keep from throwing a tantrum. “Then I can inform you of what's going to happen next.”
Jay hands the gun over to one of the guards, eyes still glued to mine. The guard then checks the rest of his body, making sure nothing else is concealed.
“Please, won't you sit?” Laz offers, pointing to the armchair next to her, inches from Jay.
Jay looks to the man sitting between Laz and I.
“Move,” he barks out in a level tone, but it's full of animosity.
“Now, Mister Lincoln, you need to play by the rules. That is not the seat I asked you to take.”
“I don't give a fuck. Your men need to back the fuck away and give her some fucking room to breathe.”
“You don't get to make demands,” she speaks calmly, still dealing with him like he's a toddler. “Now sit on that chair and we can calmly discuss business.”
Jay rubs the top of his head and works his jaw before settling into his seat. Eyes going back and forth between Laz and I. He takes a moment to survey the rest of the room, and when he lands on Arianna more fury rolls off him.
“What the fuck,” he bellows, “You in on this shit?”
Her eyes get wide, then bereaved as though he told her a loved one died, then pissed, “Wow, really?” She folds her arms across her chest and lifts a leg over the other, “Fuck you, too.”
I need to defend her, she doesn't deserve someone else she cares about turning against her.
“Jay,” the sound of my voice has everyone’s heads snapping in my direction. “She's been used just like us. She tried warning me to leave the minute I entered. Lets not make enemies when we need allies.”
Jay massages the bridge of his nose and curses under his breath. He zones back in on Lazra, “Talk.”
“You see,” Lazra begins, clasping her hands back together in her lap, “I've been wanting to get my hands on that dagger for quite some time now. The o
nly problem is I had no means to get it.
“How do I go about it then? I would ask myself this day in and day out. Then an idea came to me. Get Benedict Cole pissed off enough or in need of something enough that he would hand it over. Now the question is, how am I going to do that? I insured myself that in two ways,” she lifts two fingers, looking overly pleased with herself. “The first, acquiring information that Mister Cole desperately wants. The second – and the most fun I might add – was when I happened to be at the same fundraiser as he and his wife. I was leaving the bathroom when I spotted Kolme Dragoni headed my way. He appeared ready to strike, and as luck would have it, Mister Cole's wife was ready to leave the bathroom as well. I pushed her in front of me and retreated back inside,” she pauses to take a sip of wine, enjoying everyone's undivided attention. “My hope in doing this was to insure Mister Cole's hatred for Mister Dragoni ran deep, and he would be more than willing to hand over the dagger first taken inside the impenetrable walls of Cole Private Bank and Trust by his father.
“I obviously succeeded in both attempts, acquiring the information he wants as well as ensuring his hatred for Mister Dragoni. Next was finding a person he would intrust the dagger to. Well that was a no-brainer; the only man with three marks and a greed for revenge so strong it consumed him. I knew Mister Cole would ask for something in return, and I hoped it would be the file I had so carefully found. And what would you know,” she laughs in her whimsical, gleeful laugh, her crazy eyes twitching, “it delightfully was. Now, I couldn't have it be easy to acquire or connected to me. I needed this to appear genuine. It all played out exactly as I had hoped. One of my favorite clients easily hooked the gold-digging princess into his life, as I informed him to do, knowing that you would be delighted and figure it good fortune you had an “in”. But now, how do I get you to request the dagger from Mister Cole for me? That is what has taken my plan the longest to play out. I needed an incentive, a reason. You, unfortunately Mister Lincoln, have never been one for money, luxuries, or anything else most people require. I waited, knowing one day the tides would change, and as luck would have it, the beautiful Miss Evans entered your life. Ahh, finally,” she sighs, getting starry eyed, “I found a way to get your attention. Isn't love wonderful?”
Marked. Part I: The missing Link Page 29
