Unleash Me, Vol. 2 (Unleash Me, Annihilate Me Series)

by Ross, Christina

  “That’s another possibility,” Tank said. “Whether she wants to admit it or not—and I don’t think she does at this point—Lisa is on the cusp of celebrity. The hostess recognized her when we entered the restaurant tonight. That billboard in the Square is powerful—so was the ad in the Times. The story the AP wrote about her told the public that she lives in Manhattan. Unfortunately, it mentioned that she lived on Fifth. Fortunately, they didn’t mention the exact address out of respect for her privacy. So, the question is this—if it was a fan, how could that person have followed us here if they didn’t know exactly where she lived on Fifth? She could live near Washington Square. Near Harlem. In Midtown. Fifth stretches through a fair length of Manhattan. I don’t think this has anything to do with a fan. But naturally, we’ll look into it.”

  In Tank’s jacket pocket, his cell buzzed. He reached for it, answered it, and then hung up without saying a word. He looked at us. “My men are outside,” he said. “Here’s the protocol. They’ve already checked the area. When we exit the restaurant, Blackwell and Iris, you share the car to your left. Jennifer and Alex, take the center car. Lisa and I will take the car to our right. We leave in that order. Is that understood?”

  Everyone agreed.

  “Then let’s go home,” Tank said. “And be safe.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  We left JoJo without incident, but fear already had laced itself through my veins, and laid a blanket of foreboding over my heart.

  Who had done this? Why?

  I didn’t buy the deranged fan angle. It was either Kevin or Marco Boss. And if it was either of them, then I knew why.

  I sat close to Tank and held his hand as we moved through traffic on our way to my apartment at 800 Fifth. When we arrived, the limousine pulled close to the curb, our driver—Cutter—got out of the car, and only when he signaled that it was safe for us to leave did we exit and quickly step into the building.

  It was then that the evening took an even darker turn.

  When we moved into the lobby, the doorman, George, stopped us. “Ms. Ward,” he said with a smile. “I have a delivery for you.”

  I looked at George and felt my soul grow cold. It’s not over yet….

  On the lobby’s desk was a long, rectangular white box with a black ribbon tied around it. It was clear that it had come from a florist. Tank intercepted it.

  “Don’t touch it,” he said to me.

  “I don’t plan to.”

  He looked at the doorman. “Who delivered this?”

  “Floral on Fifth.”

  “Have they ever delivered here before?”

  “They deliver here on a daily basis. I know their delivery drivers by name. Apparently, they’re the florist everyone uses in this building. Tonight it was Tom. Yesterday it was Mike. They’re here all the time.”

  “Nobody else has touched this?”

  “Just me and Tom that I know of, and obviously the person who assembled it at the florist.”

  Tank lifted the box. “It’s light,” he said.

  “What I find odd is that it’s obviously a box made for a dozen roses,” George said. “But there’s no way that there are a dozen roses in that box, because you’re right—it’s too light.” He furrowed his brow at us, and I knew he could sense that something was wrong. “I apologize if I shouldn’t have accepted it.”

  “It’s fine, George,” I said. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “When did it arrive?” Tank asked.

  “Just after you left.”

  “And naturally, Floral on Fifth is closed at this hour.”

  “They are.”

  “Then I need both of you to stand back. Against that wall over there.”

  “Tank, don’t open it.”

  “Lisa, if there was anything explosive in here, the box would be heavier. I know better. I’m just taking a precaution.”

  “Explosive?” George said.

  “If you would please stand across the room?”

  We did, and from where we stood, I watched Tank gingerly remove the black ribbon. When it was free of the box, he lifted his fingers under the lid, gave it a little tug, and then pulled it off completely.

  I’d been holding my breath the entire time, and I let it out as quietly as possible so as not to concern Tank more than he already was for me.

  “What’s inside?” I asked.

  He looked into the box and frowned. “A rose—and another note.”

  I crossed the lobby with George close behind. “A rose?” I asked.

  He lifted it from the box. “A black one.”

  Death….

  When I spoke to Tank, I kept my voice as steady as possible. “What does the note say?”

  “Before you answer,” George said, “tell me if you would you like some privacy. I can step into the restroom for a moment. When you’re ready, tell me when to come back out.”

  “I’d appreciate that, George,” Tank said. “Thank you.”

  When George was gone, Tank removed the note from the envelope. It was written in the same style as the first letter—clippings from newspapers and magazines to comprise the words. “What does it say?” I asked.

  “Why don’t you let me and my men—”

  “I want to know what it says. I have a right to know.”

  He paused for a moment, and then, with reluctance, turned it around so it faced me. “It says ‘At least stop and smell this rose, Lisa. But do it quickly, because right now, the scent of death is all over you.’”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  As we rode the elevator to the apartment I shared with Jennifer, I was bordering on panic, but I somehow stifled my emotions and managed to keep them in check. Panic would get me nowhere. Panic is where this person—whoever the hell he was—wanted me to be. If it was at all possible, I planned to deny him of that. I planned to work through this with Tank, and discuss the options we had in front of us to end this now.

  When we stepped into the foyer, he dropped the flower box to the floor, helped me out of my coat, and then took off his. Rather than hanging them up in the closet—I couldn’t be bothered—I folded them neatly over the chair that was just inside the door.

  “Drink?” I asked.

  “Do you want one?”

  “Oh, I think I could use one.”

  “A Guinness would be great, but I’ll do it. Why don’t you go into the living room and relax? I’ll take care of it.”

  “Let me,” I said with a kiss on his cheek. “You’ve been wonderful tonight. Have a seat in the living room. I’ll join you in a second.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  When I was alone in the kitchen, I sagged against a wall and put my hands over my face. I needed to get it together—I needed to be strong. But after tonight? That was a tall order.

  Still, I had to meet it.

  I went through the motions of getting Tank his beer and pouring it into a tall, chilled glass, only to spill some of it onto the countertop. My hands were trembling so badly that it was ridiculous. I reached for a paper towel and cleaned up the mess, and then started to make myself a martini.

  Enjoy your last drink.

  I tried to ignore the memory of those threats, but it was difficult. As I started to shake the vodka with the ice, another reminder came.

  The scent of death is all over you.

  I poured the cocktail into a martini glass and felt my heart quicken. I was terrified, I was incredulous that this was happening, and I was angry because of all of it. I didn’t know what was going on, or who was behind this. Was it Kevin or Marco? Which one? And how would we ever find out? Kevin had lived two years on the streets—at this point, he knew them so well that, if he wanted to, he could just disappear within them. I doubted that Tank knew those streets as well as Kevin did. Kevin slept on them. When he was high on meth, he knew exactly where to go to hide from the cops. He lived there and he ate there, and because of that, he knew them better than most did.

&
nbsp; But did Tank know them as well? Tank was a former SEAL and while he likely had ideas about how to root Kevin out, there was no way that he knew the streets of New York as well as Kevin did. I loved my boyfriend with all of my heart, but neither he nor anyone else could possibly convince me that he was as knowledgeable as Kevin was about places to conceal himself within the maze of New York’s streets and alleys. Kevin was intimate with the streets in ways that none of us—God forbid—ever would be. I felt that, because of this, we were at a disadvantage of finding him.

  And what about Marco? I was the key reason that Wenn let him go. If he wanted to get back at me and was behind what took place tonight, he was too smart to get involved in any it on his own. He was too tall, too noticeable—people would remember him in a hot second if they were questioned about him, and he knew it. He wouldn’t take such a risk. And because he wouldn’t, he likely would have just hired this out.

  But does he really want to kill me? Over a mere firing that he brought on himself?

  I recalled our last exchange.

  “See you soon, Ward. Don’t think I’ll forget this. You’ll pay for it.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “Let’s just say that it’s been added to one of the facts I listed earlier. And when I come after you, you won’t see it coming. But it’ll hurt.”

  Who knew the depth of his rage? Had Alex blackballed him, as Blackwell suggested he might? I didn’t know, but it would be easy enough to find out. Had Boss found a new job yet? Again, simple to find out. But if he hadn’t, he had the motive to be at the root of this.

  I took our drinks into the living room. Tank was sitting on the far end of one of the sofas. He had removed his jacket and tie and had placed them on the sofa opposite him. I walked over to him. He looked at me with concern when I handed him his beer and sat next to him.

  I lifted my martini to him and took a sip. “Here’s to my survival,” I said.

  “Lisa—”

  I put my drink down on the coffee table. “You know it’s in my nature to make stupid jokes in situations such as this. It’s just who I am. My humor—as dark as it can be—actually helps to keep me sane. I can’t let whoever is behind this get the best of me, Tank. I can’t—and I won’t. What keeps going through my head is what happened to Jennifer and Alex. Both almost lost their lives. Will that happen to me? It sure as hell looks as if it might.”

  “That was a completely different situation.”

  “Was it? I don’t agree. Yes, the circumstances were different, but Kobus still tried to kill Alex, and then aggressively went after Jennifer. He nearly killed her. He nearly won. He came this close to taking her life before taking his own.”

  “Here’s what you don’t know,” he said.

  “There’s something I don’t know?”

  “I’m already working on Kevin.”

  “How? When? Why haven’t you told me this?”

  “Because so far, it’s been minor compared to what I’m putting in place tomorrow.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I have two men undercover in Times Square looking to score meth. They’re doing it right now. And here’s how they’re playing it—they’ve heard of someone named Kevin, who can potentially hook them up with what they’re seeking. They need a fix, they’re asking around for a guy named Kevin, and they’re offering to pay someone to make the introduction. If Kevin is as entrenched in Times Square and the vicinity as we think he is, this is one way to get to him. After spending two years on the streets, he’s known there. Tomorrow, I’ll deploy more men on the ground—all of whom will look as strung out as my other men—and they’ll use this method to find him. I think we have a solid chance of finding him. I think it will happen quickly.”

  “Why haven’t you told me any of this before?”

  “I’ve been trying to keep your mind off Kevin and Boss as much as possible, so I kept it under wraps for a bit. This just started the other day. But after tonight? That ends. I’ll inform you every step of the way of what I’m up to.”

  “Have your men had any luck?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Your idea is feasible—it might work.”

  “I think we can nail him. I know you’re concerned, not only about what happened to you tonight, but also about the photos he took of you years ago. If we find him, we’ll shake him down. If he has any photos of you, I’ll make certain that he hands them over. If he’s bluffing, I’ll know. Believe me, I have my ways of getting what I want, and I know a liar when I’m faced with one.”

  He wasn’t saying it, but I could read the undercurrent—if Kevin didn’t oblige, Tank and his team would probably beat the shit out of Kevin until he spilled the truth.

  “How do we handle Marco?”

  “It’s a long shot, but tomorrow, I’ll call Floral on Fifth, introduce myself, and see if the rose was purchased with a credit card. I doubt that’s the case—in fact, I’m fairly certain it isn’t the case—but I need to look at all angles. If it is Boss, we both know that he hired someone else to do this for him. And if he has, that person is dealing with cash. That said, if Marco did hire someone, hopefully Floral on Fifth has security cameras on site so we can see who purchased the rose. After all, the note was dropped inside the box. To be certain it was inside, someone must have gone there personally to buy the rose, and hand the note to the florist so they’d be sure both were delivered to you. If there are no cameras, we’ll grill the florist to find out who bought it and get a description of the person. If that description matches the description of the person who bought you that martini tonight, at least we’ll have something.”

  “But not a lot.”

  “That depends on how well they remember him—and can describe him. Just give this time, Lisa.”

  “That’s just it—I’m not sure how much time I have left.”

  “With me and my team surrounding you, you’ll be safe.”

  I’d never say it to him, but I couldn’t help but face the truth. Alex wasn’t safe that night that he nearly died. Neither was Jennifer—and you were protecting both of them. None of us is perfect—and none of us is infallible.

  I reached for my drink, sipped it, and then put it back down on the coffee table. “I’m exhausted,” I said. “Join me in bed?” I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Talking about it just makes me more afraid than I already am. “I need to get some sleep.”

  “Of course.”

  We went into the bedroom, undressed, and got into bed where Tank held me close against him. We didn’t say anything to each other, but it was hours before I fell asleep. When I finally did drift off, I knew from Tank’s breathing that he was wide awake, and that told me everything I needed to know.

  He was worried as hell about what might happen to me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Early the next morning, I woke alone in bed. When I sat up, I saw Tank sitting in the chair at the end of the bed. He was shirtless and wore only his boxer shorts, but he was awake and watching me.

  “Why are you sitting there?” I asked. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. I wanted to make sure that you could.”

  “Oh, Tank. Come here. Please get in bed with me.” I looked at the alarm clock on my bedside table. “It’s not even six yet.”

  “Try to get some more sleep.”

  “Only if you get back in bed with me. It doesn’t feel right not having you here with me.”

  “Maybe we need to think about that,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  He got into bed, took me into his arms, and kissed the back of my neck. “Maybe it’s time that you move in with me,” he said. “That way I can keep you close. And safe. I can protect you better that way. And it’s not just about that—I love you. I’ve given this some thought. I want to live with you. That is, of course, if you want to live with me.”

  My eyes opened wide in surprise, and I felt my body go tense. Move in with Tank? I knew that
at some point that would happen, but now? It almost seemed too soon, though I had to admit that the idea was appealing. I wanted to be with this man for the rest of my life. I already knew that. I was certain that he was the one. One day, he’d propose to me. At some point, we’d be married. We’d have children and grow old together. I could see our future together as clearly as I could see the plot of one of my books. He was my destiny.

  “Too soon?” he said.

  I didn’t answer at once.

  “There’s plenty of room,” he continued. “You know the space—three bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths, a big kitchen, plenty of closet space, nice views. Move in with me, Lisa. Be with me. Live with me, and let me take care of you. If you want a different apartment, we’ll find one. You can have whatever you want. I’ll sell the place, and we can find our own place. Together.”

  “What about Jennifer?”

  “Soon, Jennifer will be married to Alex. They’re already engaged. It’s just a matter of time before she finally takes the leap. She’s practically living with him now, as you said to her at dinner last night. After months of dating me, I think you know that I’m not one who is quick to pull the trigger on something like this. I meant it when I said that I’ve given it a lot of thought. Yes, we’ve only officially been a couple for a little over a month, but we’ve been an unofficial, committed couple for months longer than that. I don’t say any of this lightly. I’m asking you to move in with me.”

  “And you expect me to go to sleep now?” I said.

  “Sure. I’ll just rock you in my arms until you drift off to sleep.”

  Despite all the pressure that was on me now, I couldn’t help but giggle at that. “You’re crazy,” I said.

  “I’m actually serious.”

  And that was that. I turned over in bed so I was facing him, and what I saw on his face was a mixture of tension, protection, and, most of all, love. I placed the palm of my hand against his cheek and kissed him on the lips. Then my eyes searched his. “Don’t you think it’s too soon?”