by Barker, Kira
“It’s that girl, isn’t it?” she proposed. “You’re obsessed with him, and the fact that he keeps her around is killing you.”
“I’m not—“ I tried to protest, but she didn’t let me get further.
“You are,” Brigitte insisted. “And while I’m sure that it’s not the healthiest foundation for anything, it seems to me that in this your feelings for each other are mutual.”
I stared at her for several seconds straight, trying to decide how to respond to that.
“I need her out of the way, yes. But only so she won’t become collateral damage.”
The “tsk”-ing sound she made let me know that she didn’t buy my excuse.
“That’s what your Agent Bitch wants. You want to do away with the competition.”
“That’s ridiculous—“
“God, woman, stop acting like I was born yesterday!” Brigitte cried out, even going so far as to dramatically throw up her hands. “I get it. You’re conflicted. And if half of what I suspect you’re not telling me happened, you have every right to be. But wishful thinking never helped anyone.” She paused, waiting for me to object, but I didn’t. Her features softened and she reached over, holding my left, unblemished hand. “I watched you fall in love with him, and I hated it. I watched you give yourself up, and it hurt as if my own daughter had chosen to abandon me. Seeing you in so much anguish now rekindles all that frustration inside of me. I want you to be happy, Penelope. You deserve to be happy. And if you think that, deep down, you can achieve that happiness with this man, even if you shouldn’t, then, by all means, go after him.”
Exhaling slowly, I shook my head.
“You don’t know what you’re proposing.”
She shrugged, unperturbed by my cryptic reply.
“But you know, and that’s what counts. You do not owe anyone in this world anything, except for yourself.”
“There’s still that deal with Agent Smith.”
Brigitte only had a snort for that. “Why you even agreed to that is beyond me. The woman can’t have anything on you. And that friend of yours? You don’t owe him anything, either.”
I shook my head again. “But I do.”
“Because he helped you?” she suggested. I nodded. “Nonsense. He knew what he was getting into when he burned all bridges to get away with you. It was his decision, so it should be his turn to pay for it. Besides, how are his circumstances any worse now than they were before? He’s a valuable asset. As long as he’s agreeable, she’ll keep him around. But you? She’s only using you without giving you anything.”
I remained silent, unsure what to say to that. Brigitte’s patience was clearly wearing thin as she got up to fix herself a drink. Upon her return, she taxed me with a calculating stare.
“As I said, do what you think is best for you. Do you need that bastard to suffer until his last breath? Play nice with your ex-CIA cunt and make sure he either gets locked away forever, or something goes awry and that was the last the world saw of Darren Hunter. Do you need him to simply apologize and admit that he wronged you? Coerce the shit out of him until you get that confession. Do you need him to dote on you for the rest of your hopefully long life together, spent in blissful matrimony? Get rid of that simpering idiot and show him why he wanted you in the first place. But whatever you do—do it for you. Do it because you want it. You know my opinion on marriage and steady relationships—but then I feel like you learned that lesson the hard way. If he really wants you, he will stay faithful even if you keep your lives and homes separate, and you never tie the knot. You both might just be crazy enough to pull that off.”
Her vote of confidence made me feel more conflicted than I’d expected, but it also took a measure of weight off my chest. Had I really been naive—yet again—to blindly put my faith in the authorities?
“You think I should just break with her? Tell her to go screw herself?” I didn’t need to clarify that I was talking about Adam’s handler.
“Why not?” Brigitte asked. “Do you need her? From what you’ve told me so far, her ideas of how to tackle Hunter have been less than stellar.”
“Because my own ideas are working so well,” I offered, my voice toneless.
She held my gaze evenly. “How many times did you meet him since you returned?”
I did a quick calculation in my head. “Four times.”
“And how many times did you hook up?”
The term almost made me smile—almost. Rather than laugh about it, I felt myself shrug uneasily. “Three.”
“Did you regret it?”
That, ladies and gentlemen, was the burning question.
Brigitte cocked her head to the side. “Not that hard to answer, now, is it? Did you get off? Do you want it to happen again? Did you enjoy it?”
“Enjoy” was not the term I would have used. Today had definitely terrified me.
And still…
“Yes.”
I was sure that she knew that my answer was a loaded one, but in true madam fashion, she ignored any connotations and honed in on the central premise.
“So why are you conflicted? I’m well aware that things are not as easy as that in the details. I’m not going to ask why you are hesitating, and you probably have your reasons for second-guessing your decision.”
“I thought you were standing behind me when I told you I was helping Agent Smith bring him down.” Probably a far-fetched protest, but still a valid one.
“That was before I realized how deep your obsession with that man goes,” she objected.
“I can live without him. I proved that in the seven months that I was away,” I pointed out.
Brigitte rolled her eyes at me as she took a sip from her drink.
“If you want to call it that. Living. Barely subsisting is more like it.” She clucked her tongue at me when I wanted to protest, silencing me again. “If you don’t want to burn all bridges behind you, wise up. Learn to play all sides against each other, but make sure that you come out ahead. Is there dirt that you can dig up on Hunter that is valuable to the FBI, or whoever is involved in this? Blackmail him. Or strike a better deal and deliver him on a silver platter. But keep in mind why that agent is so adamant about this case. Is she using you just to get ahead herself? Would anything you dig up actually stick? There is no reason to alienate one of the city’s top lawyers if you already know that he will make whatever evidence there is go away. I don’t have to tell you that, right now, all sides believe that you’re just a pawn. You need to become queen at the very least to win. Which brings us back to the central question—what do you want to do about Hunter?”
Her words made me not only pensive, but also feel incredibly stupid. Nothing about what she told me was news—but at the same time it changed everything. As if allowing myself to consider all options shifted the balance somehow.
Leaning back, I considered, feeling like, for the first time in ages, I let myself relax.
“The girl has to go,” was what I finally said. Brigitte didn’t smirk at me, but her eyes lit up. I sent her a pointed look. “I’m not saying this because I can’t abide competition. She’s a wildcard, and if I play for keeps, I need to be able to control the playing field. I can’t control her, and she’s a liability. The only reason to let her stay would be to give Darren something to use against me that is, in the end, insignificant, but I’m sure that Agent Smith won’t let me do that.” I paused, then added, “And I really want that little slut gone.”
“All good points,” Brigitte offered. “I presume you’ve already tried—and failed—to make her walk out on him?”
I nodded. “It’s easy to get her all riled up, but for whatever reason she’s like a barnacle, unwilling to let go. I doubt she’d leave short of him telling her to.”
“Maybe you’re going about this the wrong way,” she suggested.
“Like how?”
Now Brigitte’s smile turned calculating. “How about you give him a reason to reject her?”
&n
bsp; “Why would he? He knows that she’s the shortcut to lighting my fuse at any moment.” Just as I said that, I remembered something he’d said to me today.
“Why do I think you just found your answer?” Brigitte mused.
“Because maybe I have,” I replied. “It’s something he mentioned. Something about me being the one who understands him best.” Unease crept up my spine at the memory of that conversation, but I forced myself to stand above such simple emotions. Brigitte had a point—I had to go all in, or I might as well throw in the towel. “I think his main reason to keep her around is her blind devotion to him.”
Her smile brightened. “I think we have a winner.”
I shook my head. “How does that change anything? Except for making me feel even more pathetic? When did my world suddenly start to revolve around obsessing over a man like this? Reducing myself to this?”
My questions were mostly of a rhetorical nature, but I could tell that Brigitte was burning to answer them with a scathing remark. It was a testament to our friendship that she refrained.
“As I said—you need to know yourself, what you need, and what you want. It’s entirely up to you,” she reminded me.
Mulling the situation over some more, I finally let my breath out slowly.
“I need a distraction. To be more precise, I need her to be distracted. If she was a guy, the answer would be so obvious for how to manage that—“
“Not all whores are women,” she reminded me.
“And you think that’s the answer? Set her up with some gigolo? Why would she be stupid enough to fall for that?”
Brigitte shrugged. “Not everyone plays with open cards like we do. Some conduct their business to seem as if there wasn’t any business going on in the first place. What if a nice, polite young man chatted her up while she was feeling neglected? Like, say, while you and Darren darling are doing the dirty? I’m sure you can set things up like that easily. You came close today, as it is.”
That made me look up sharply, my brows rising toward my hairline.
“Are you watching me, too?”
Brigitte’s shrug was nonchalant at best. “Let’s just say that I have my sources.”
“Who?”
She seemed hesitant at first, but then relented. “Pete almost didn’t call me because you tipped him so well, but in the end, years of loyalty always win out over quick cash.”
That damn bartender. Just as it had been easy for me to find out where Darren was, it was probably just as easy to find out what I had been trying to find out. It took me a moment to swallow my anger, but in a sense, it was a good feeling to know that Brigitte covered my ass—even if I didn’t want her to.
“Do you have someone’s number who might get me in contact with a gentleman who might be persuaded to charm Daliah right out of her pink panties?” I questioned.
“Do you even need to ask?” Brigitte quipped as she reached for her little black book.
I left it at a smile—if not a nice one—as I typed in the number she handed me, hoping that I wasn’t dooming myself—or getting Daliah killed in the process. Dislike her I might, but that was a line I wasn’t about to cross.
Five minutes later, I hung up, then shot my personal shopper a quick text that I would need another dress for a soiree next week.
“You should probably renegotiate the terms with your agent,” Brigitte noted. “If you swing by her lair right away, you can be back for our afternoon meeting.”
I nodded. A good idea, even if I kind of dreaded that conversation.
Exactly when had my life turned into such a minefield?
Chapter 11
“Absolutely not!” Agent Eva Smith shouted in my face, loud enough to make me want to take a step back, if only to preserve my eardrums. I had expected some resistance to my plan, but this was a little extreme. Even usually stoic Michaels, lurking behind her, seemed appropriately taken aback.
“It’s a solid plan,” I pointed out—only to be shot down once more.
“Plan? You call this lunacy a plan?” she bit out, continuing to rage.
Irritation licked up my spine, making it even harder to keep my voice calm.
“Do you even know which part you’re objecting to, or is it on principle? Because it’s my plan, not yours?” I wanted to know.
Agent Smith looked ready to blow a gasket.
“It’s not a plan at all! You will not even think about this. I’m not letting you endanger an innocent just because you’re utterly incapable of delivering on your promises.”
Brigitte’s words echoed through my mind again, making it even harder for me to keep my composure. Why had I ever considered working with this woman?
“I’m not endangering anyone except myself,” I insisted. “She’s the one who keeps wrapping herself around Hunter whenever she gets the chance. I’ve done my very best to dissuade her of that notion, but like someone else I know, she’s utterly incapable of listening to reason.”
The dear agent looked ready to throttle me.
“I told you from the start that our primary objective is to keep the girl from getting harmed, and putting her in harm’s way defeats the purpose.”
I was ready to snap at her, but her words made me rethink my tactic. Had she just slipped up?
“I thought Hunter was the objective,” I offered. Agent Smith’s lips compressed to a thin line, confirming my guess—but now was the wrong time to rub that in. “Anyway. She’s not in danger right now, and if my plan works, she probably won’t be in the future, either.”
“So you think that the fact that all women who previously got engaged to that man are dead now—except you—means she is safe?” Agent Smith grinned toothily at me, making it plain that the question was, at best, rhetorical.
Keeping myself from rolling my eyes at her was almost impossible, but I somehow managed. “I’m not saying I understand his logic, but he kills them because he loves them and they disappointed him. He doesn’t love her. Whatever she does, he has no reason to come after her,” I explained.
“Says who?” she asked, still goading me on. I hated having to resort to this, but clearly, I wouldn’t get anywhere unless I let her see into my cards—because following through with my plan without her consent would just lead to her siccing her people on anyone I could involve in this. I just knew it.
“He said so himself.”
“That he doesn’t love her?” The incredulity in her voice made me wonder if she’d somehow managed to put a wire tap on me without my knowledge.
“He said I’m the only one who understands him. Or understands him best, at the very least. Don’t you think that significant?” I offered.
Agent Smith shrugged, still not perturbed, but at least the fake humor had left her demeanor.
“It just underscores that he’s still obsessed with you. Not that he won’t come after her.”
“But she is just a tool to him,” I objected, or tried to.
“To accomplish what?”
“Obviously to draw me back to him,” I said. “Which worked perfectly, wouldn’t you say? Now he can dangle her in front of me. Tease me with the one thing he knows will unnerve me to no end. But beyond that, she’s worthless to him.”
I hated how my admission made me sound gullible, but in this, I couldn’t very well protest as it was the honest truth. Agent Smith’s lips compressed into a thin line, but she still didn’t relent.
“Then there’s no reason not to kill her. If anything, she’s in more danger now—thanks to your brilliant plan that has yet to yield any results, I might add—than she ever was before.”
I stared back at her, wondering if that woman had listened to a single thing I’d explained about Darren Hunter’s MO.
“For him, killing someone isn’t just a one-minute deed and then it’s over,” I pointed out. “It’s a ritual that involves stages. Perfectly timed, well-crafted stages that are all set in motion by an initial prerequisite—him getting disappointed by the woman he loves. Wh
y should he waste that amount of time on a stupid girl that might be good for sticking his cock into, but beyond that she’s nothing to him? He’s driven by strong emotion and a need to exact revenge on the woman he perceives hurt him gravely. I doubt that anything she’d be able to cause in him goes beyond annoyance.” My explanation didn’t do a thing to sway her, so I decided to pull one last register. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe my plan really isn’t working and I’m just deluding myself. Give me this last chance. If this fails, I will do whatever you think is best—and only what you think is best. But unless you have a better idea, please let me go through with this.”
I hated pleading with her like few other things in my life, but the bait was too good to be ignored, when she finally inclined her head.
“Under one condition.”
Nothing’s ever free. “Which would be?”
“I’m going to put a security detail on her.”
That was the least likely objection I had expected—and it made me wonder if that, in turn, meant I was about to be left on my own, which should have made me feel free rather than afraid, but I couldn’t help but feel like Agent Smith had just signed my death certificate. Because what I hadn’t explained—but which was abundantly obvious—was that Darren would see right through my game, and if Daliah was out of the picture, that left me exposed, vulnerable, and likely at the very top of his kill list.
I still didn’t hesitate to nod. I’d known from the start that I was—barely—an asset for her, and not one she would weep over losing, except for my potential usefulness.
“Very well. I will update you with the time and venue as soon as I have the details myself,” I said, trying to end this quickly now before she could change her mind, but Agent Smith wasn’t done with me yet.
Leaning closer, she raised one finger, pointing it at me. “I will hold you personally accountable for the harm that comes to anyone involved in this. My agents. Daliah. That male prostitude you’re paying to seduce her. Any and all innocent bystanders. Is that understood?”
I nodded again, my mouth suddenly dry, but I did my best to hide the rising scorn inside of me from showing. Immunity she might grant me, but I doubted that she could just pin anything on me that I hadn’t actually caused. And it wasn’t like I didn’t have ties to a certain law firm that specialized in slapping the justice system in the face.
