When He's Bad

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When He's Bad Page 15

by Jones, Lisa Renee


  “My family, though,” she says. “I’m worried about my family. I know they don’t deserve it, but I’m worried. I am. They’re all I have.”

  “You have me, Pri. You have Walker.”

  “I know that,” she says. “I do know that. I feel it, but they’re my mom and dad.”

  “I know,” I say. “My brother didn’t deserve my worry either, but it didn’t stop me from trying to get myself killed to save him. But he wasn’t in danger. He was protected by Waters. And it seems your family is as well.”

  “But are they?” she asks. “If we disappear and Waters gets nervous, couldn’t he use them to draw us out?”

  And there it is. Exactly the problem I was planning to discuss with her. “Yes,” I say, not about to lie to her. “Meet with your mother. Tell her just that if you have to. Even if your father won’t listen, get her to agree to get out of the country. I’ll pay for her to spend the rest of the year in Paris or Italy or wherever the fuck she wants to go.”

  “You’ll pay?”

  “I did a lot of tough jobs these past two years. What did I make the money for if not to use it now, when it matters?”

  “My parents have money,” she says softly, her fingers curling on my jaw. “But thank you. That means more to me than you can know. I mean, no one in my life has ever protected me, and my family doesn’t even deserve your protection.”

  My hands settle on her waist. “Tell me you’ll leave with me tonight after the dinner, Pri.”

  “And go where?” she asks. “New York?”

  “Yes. New York.”

  “Won’t everyone look for you there, considering that’s Walker’s home base?”

  “Sometimes under their noses is the best place to be,” I say. “And we have many resources in the city. If it gets too hot, we’ll leave the country. So, I ask again—”

  “Not tonight,” she says. “I know my mother. I need to give her time to digest what I say to her.”

  “Pri, damn it—”

  “At least overnight,” she says. “Just give her until morning, Adrian. And then no matter what she says, or does, I’ll go with you. I’m not an idiot. I was in a cave last night. I know we're in trouble.”

  Relief washes over me with her agreement and at the same moment, Blake speaks in my earpiece. “You’re clear.”

  I hit the button to speak. “We’re on our way, Blake,” I say, and then disconnect. “Time to go.” I catch her hand and kiss her knuckles. “I cannot wait to get you out of this city. Come on.” I turn away from her, ready to guide her out of here when I have a realization. I think of what she said to me and how I responded.

  I stop and turn back to her, molding her close again, tangling my fingers in her hair. “I love you, too,” I say softly. “Don’t forget that, Pri.”

  “I think I’m the one who needs to say that to you,” she says, and I don’t argue. I’m not sure love, new love especially, will be enough to get us to the other side of this. I’m also not going to pretend I don’t hope it will, not anymore.

  I kiss her hard and fast, and then I set us in motion, leading her out of this stairwell and, I hope soon, far away from this city.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  PRI

  Once we’re outside the building, we’re quickly inside the SUV with someone I don’t even know behind the wheel. “Mason,” the driver offers, lifting a hand. “Flew in a few hours ago with a team of Walker men.”

  Meanwhile, Adrian is texting with someone and I just collapse on the seat, relieved to be in safe company. Relieved that Walker clearly brought in extra help.

  Relief ends as we turn into another parking garage and I sit up, eyeing the tunnel we’re winding a path around.

  “Why are we here?” I ask, glancing at Adrian.

  Adrian points out Blake standing next to a black sedan, and my shoulders slump with yet more relief. It’s a hot minute before we’re parked next to him. “Let’s meet before your dinner,” Adrian says, opening the door. He reaches over to me and touches my bracelet. “Best to turn that back on.”

  Blake joins us at the front of the vehicle next to the wall, where we stand out of view of pretty much anyone. “They’re legit agents,” Blake says. “Williams was friends with Pitt. Neither Williams nor Davis were authorized to question anyone on this case. They’ll be investigated, but Williams’ superior officer feels like he’s just worried about Pitt.”

  I shake my head. “No. He was obsessed with Adrian. I’m not buying it.”

  “Me either,” Blake assures me. “We have new men on the ground taking up residence at the prior safe house. We’re in control, but Adrian’s quest to get you both out of town is one I support. Tonight, after this dinner, is my preference.”

  “Tomorrow, please,” I say. “My mother will not want to leave. I’ll make my case, and make it firmly, but she needs time to process what I tell her.”

  Blake glances at Adrian who gives a nod. His lips press together. “I’ll have the plane ready in case we need it tonight.”

  I hug myself with the ominous answer. “What do you know that I don’t know?”

  “I know exactly what you know,” Blake replies. “Which is exactly why you should want to be on that plane tonight.” He shifts the topic. “Adam and Savage are at the restaurant.” With that, he walks away and clicks the locks to his vehicle.

  Adrian steps in front of me, hands on my shoulders. “Mason will act as your hired driver. He’ll be close. That means I need to ride with Blake.”

  “Please tell me that means you’ll stay away tonight?”

  “I won’t be in the restaurant unless you need me.”

  “I won’t need you. I have all your Walker allies. Stay away. It’s just a dinner with my mother.”

  “We both know there is no such thing as just a dinner right now. Make this one as short as you can.” He kisses me hard and fast. “I’ll be listening.”

  I nod and he helps me into the vehicle, shutting the door behind me. Now I’m alone with Mason, and we’re pulling out of the parking spot, on the way to my dinner with my mother. Adrian’s right. It’s not just a dinner. If it was, I wouldn’t feel as if I’m headed to my execution.

  ***

  It’s a short ride later when Mason pulls us up to the restaurant. Thankfully he has a bottle of water and tissue that allows me to clean up my sticky legs. Even so, with the seat between us, I realize that I don’t actually know what Mason looks like at his point. His hair is dark brown. His jaw has a several-day neatly groomed stubble, and when he glances at me in the mirror, his eyes are intelligent. “I’ll be close,” he states.

  Words everyone keeps saying to me. Words that are both comforting and unnerving just by way of their necessity.

  “I left my briefcase at work,” I say. “Can you ask Lucifer to bring it to me?”

  “Of course,” he says.

  “Thanks, Mason, and nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” he says, in what seems like such a normal exchange. Oh, how I miss a normal life though I’m not sure what that means anymore. I’m not even sure I’ve ever known what that means.

  I exit the vehicle to the slightly cooler night, still in the seventies despite the sun dipping behind the horizon and an early fall in the air. I cross the sidewalk to the restaurant entrance, a cute wooden door wrapped in ivy. My purse is on my shoulder, my gun inside, like a loyal friend who won’t let me down. I step inside the cozy little Italian spot and the hostess greets me.

  Soon I’ve discovered that my mother hasn’t arrived, but we do have a reserved table. I’m guided through the small basic tables, the décor understated, as the food is the real star power of this destination. And I’m not focused on the tables or décor anyway. I’m people-watching, soaking in faces, looking for my would-be killer, though I’m not sure an assassin always looks like an assassin. Maybe they look like the elderly woman to my left eating alone? Or the incredibly large man in a fedora and gla
sses to my right, also eating alone, who’s wildly familiar? Do I know anyone who wears a fedora?

  Soon I’m in a corner spot that is thankfully one of the only private locations, considering the close proximity of the seating. I settle into the corner where I can watch for my mother. The man in the fedora is still bothering me and my gaze lifts and finds his. And I’m startled with recognition.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  PRI

  The man in the fedora is Adam. My God, it’s Adam. He really is a master of disguise. I fight a smile and relish a sense of relief.

  I text Adrian: I see Adam. I know you trust him. It helps to have him here.

  I do trust him, he replies. More than I ever did my brother.

  It’s a surprising confession by text, especially a text message I know Blake can read, but I have this sense of Adrian accepting the Walker team as a family in more than words. I believe their support—their absolutely committed support—has changed him in ways I might not even fully understand yet. But I want to understand.

  And right now, Adam being here somehow places me just a little closer to Adrian. And he did say he’d be close.

  The waitress appears, and with my mother nowhere in sight, I order us both a glass of wine, our favorite red blend to share, and then text her. While waiting on her reply I try to call Ed again. He doesn’t answer. I text him: Please call me. A full two minutes pass with no reply, not from him or my mother. I’m not surprised by Ed’s lack of response but my mother is another story. It’s not like her to be late and I text Adrian: It’s not like my mother to be late. Does Walker have eyes on her?

  She’s at the front door now, he replies, and she appears frazzled, though I’ve only met her once, so I don’t have a lot to go on. However, Blake says based on the team’s monitoring, she’s definitely frazzled.

  It’s at that moment that my mother rushes through the tables, dressed in a black silk pantsuit, her hair down, and somewhat in disarray. She’s never in disarray, which set high standards for me I never quite lived up to as a child. Okay, as an adult either, but that’s my own personal baggage issue.

  “Hi, honey,” she greets, and I stand up and she kisses my cheek and hugs me. “Thank God they got us this table. I hate being cramped.” She sits down and hangs her purse on her chair right as the waitress fills our glasses.

  “You have no idea how much I need this right now,” she says, thanking the waitress and then me as she lifts the glass and sips. “I’m very stressed,” she says, after a long, unladylike drink that is also so very unlike her.

  “Why?”

  “Let’s order food. I need to eat something. I feel shaky. And let’s get some of that yummy bread.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Yes. I know what you like. I can order.” I wave at the waitress, place our order, and we have bread pronto.

  She quickly butters a slice and I do the same. “How are you?” she asks.

  “I’m okay. You are not. What is happening?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I do know. I thought your father was cheating on me.”

  “Oh. No. Tell me no.”

  “I did,” she says. “I’ve spent a few weeks fretting over it. It’s a big part of why I didn’t leave the country. He urged me to go.”

  “You said—”

  “I know what I said, but what was I going to say, Pri? I think your dad found a younger woman and I’m a washed-up old lady to him? It hurt, you know?”

  “Of course it did, but you say it as if it’s past tense?”

  “Right well, I don’t think he’s cheating anymore. I’m actually thinking Italy sounds nice. Tuscany, maybe. Somewhere remote that I can just clear my head.”

  The food arrives and I draw in a breath. Something is wrong, really wrong. The waitress offers freshly shredded cheese and we both accept, each taking a bite of our food. My mother isn’t looking at me and she picks up her wine and downs the rest of the contents.

  “Do you know why Dad called me today?” I ask. “I can’t seem to reach him.”

  “He called you?”

  “He did.”

  “Well, he really wants you to come back to the firm, Pri. He’s prepared to offer you your own division. Frankly, I’d like to beg you to accept. I’m so tired of all the criminals he represents. Maybe you can show him there is money to be made by representing innocent people.”

  “Since when do you care about innocent people?”

  “That’s horrible, Pri. You make me sound horrible. I stayed out of your father’s business for a reason. I couldn’t stomach it.”

  “And you like the money?”

  “Of course I do,” she says. “Is that a sin? I don’t think so, but I’m not money hungry to the point of being blind. The truth is, I’ve always felt your father was a good man and I don’t think I wanted to see him any other way.”

  I set my fork down. “What is going on?”

  She sets her fork down as well. “I’m asking you to drop this case and come back to work for us. Just walk away now and maybe Waters will forget about you.”

  “Is Dad involved with Waters, Mom?”

  She slides her plate away. “While snooping over the assumed affair, I overhead some things. That’s why I wanted to meet here. I’m afraid our house is bugged.”

  “What things?” I ask, trying not to sound as urgent as the thundering of my heart suggests I am.

  “Somehow, I suspect through Logan, your father got involved with Waters and is now trapped, held captive by that monster’s demands. He can’t get out and basically, Pri, honey, if you don’t drop the case, they’re going to implicate us all and send us to jail.”

  My eyes go wide and the room spins. “What? No. How do you know that?”

  “I recorded a meeting your father had with some man I don’t know. Your father never said his name, but he made it clear he didn’t even know Waters was a client. The other man made it clear that the firm had laundered money for Waters for years now. Your father’s implicated.” She slides a tape recorder over to me. “Listen to it and drop the case, Pri.”

  Blood rushes in my ears. “I think you need to leave the country.”

  “I don’t need to leave the country if you drop the case.”

  “And then what? Waters continues to control us if we don’t stop him?”

  “Maybe not,” she says. “Maybe he’ll move on.”

  “Move on? No, Mother. You’re not being realistic. It’s just a matter of time before he threatens us again.”

  “I told you,” she snaps. “The man on the recording told your father that if you drop out of the case, Waters will free your father.”

  “Until he’s not free,” I say. “I’m going to get you on a plane out of the country in the morning. Pack a bag. I’ll be by to pick you up.”

  “Dad—”

  “Do not call him and tell him, Mom. The wrong people will find out. I’ll tell him when he returns and try to get him to come and meet you. Okay?”

  “I can’t leave you and him here. I can’t. What if something happens to you? If you two go, I’ll go.”

  “Damn it, mom.”

  “Drop the case, Pri.” She motions to the waitress. “We need to-go boxes, please.”

  “I’m leaving in the morning. I’ll take you with me but you cannot tell Dad.”

  “No. I need to talk to your father. I’ll meet him at the airport and talk to him.”

  “What time does he get in?”

  “Four o’clock. Meet me here again tomorrow night. I’ll try and get him to come.”

  “Okay,” I say, though the agreement doesn’t sit right in my belly. And I suspect it won’t in Adrian’s either. “I’ll be here tomorrow night.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  ADRIAN

  Blake and I are sitting in the back of a van, listening to Pri and her mother’s conversation at the restaurant when the bombshell of her father’s blackmail is delivered.


  “Fuck.”

  It’s the only appropriate word for what just happened, proven by the fact that I don’t say it. Blake does.

  Then comes her mother’s insistence that Pri meet her for dinner tomorrow night when we’re supposed to leave town in the morning. Followed by, of course, Pri’s subsequent agreement.

  “Fuck.”

  This time I’m the one cursing.

  My foot starts to thrum on the floor of the van while I wait for the moment Pri and her mother decide to get their food to-go. Her mother leaves first and Pri lingers behind, ordering extra food that I know is for me. The very idea that she thought of me shouldn’t surprise me, but then, it does and somehow makes this entire situation all the more combustible. I’m in this with her now. I don’t want it to be any other way, but there is no denying just how dangerous this has become.

  Eager to get to her, I reach for the door and Blake captures my arm. “No. You need to meet her at the house. Too many people are looking for you.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter again because he’s right and I can’t protect her behind bars or dead.

  I shift back onto the bench where I’d been sitting and stare at the damn ceiling without really seeing it, battling the rush of adrenaline spiking through me. “I know you just want to get her to safety,” Blake says. “But you know you’re going to have to kidnap her to get her to leave before that meeting tomorrow night. And that’s not an answer.”

  My gaze collides with his and I snap, “Neither is her ending up dead, Blake, and I know you know that. Don’t tell me if it was your wife, you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

  “All right, then,” he says. “What are you going to do?”

  “Everything I can to keep her alive.”

  I don’t say anything else. I don’t have to. He knows anything means anything, and he knows he’d be in the same headspace if he were me.

  ***

  The minute Pri is safely in the vehicle with Mason, she calls me. “I know you don’t want me to stay,” she says the instant I answer, “but they’re my parents, Adrian,” she adds. “And right or wrong, deserved or not, I love them. I can’t make myself leave until I know what is really going on with my father. And before you say anything, before you object and I know you want to, can I just talk to you alone when we get to the house?”

 

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