The Death of My First Assignment (Death Series)

Home > Other > The Death of My First Assignment (Death Series) > Page 17
The Death of My First Assignment (Death Series) Page 17

by Ami Urban


  “It’s not all your fault,” I said, touching her arm. I hated seeing her so upset.

  After Serena’s class, she offered to drop me off at my hotel. But after she’d pulled to the curb, we just sat there in silence.

  “But if I’d just tried harder...” She sniffed, trailing off.

  I wanted to pull her close, but I needed to give her space. So, my arms hung like useless appendages at my sides.

  “What could you have done?” I asked. “He was already set on not seeing her. I don’t think anything anybody would have said could make him see your way.”

  “I guess...”

  “Hey...” I leaned over the center console to catch her gaze. “You did great. I’m sure you didn’t ruin her chances.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You’re a strong person, Katie. Your heart and passion for others is going to get you far.”

  Suddenly, her eyes turned dark. “What do you know? You’re dating Justine...”

  I scrunched up my face.

  “Not by choice. We needed someone to help us. Don’t worry, I’m only pretending to date her.”

  Her scowl deepened. “The same way you pretended with me?”

  I felt my eyebrows knit together. “Katie...” I tried to reach out with my hands and my mind. I wanted her to remember the way she should have. But she shrugged away, slamming her elbow into the emergency brake.

  “Don’t touch me!” Her voice began to grow hoarse with unshed tears. “You’re a liar! You don’t know anything about me!”

  That did it. “Oh, I don’t? Wanna bet? Katie, I understand that you don’t remember me, okay? But I remember you. I know you. I know that if you could have a salad with nothing but lettuce stems, you’d be happy. I know that you’d drench that salad in ranch. I know you can’t stand to watch people brush their teeth—”

  The corner of her upper lip twitched into a momentary sneer.

  “You make that face every time.” I grabbed her chin in my hand and forced her to look at me. “I know you have the most beautiful eyes—yellow then fading to green. I even memorized the gold fleck in the left one.”

  She sniffed.

  “And I know that if you just kiss me, you’ll remember, too.”

  Her eyes grew to twice their size. A tear made a trail down her cheek, so I wiped it away. “I...I don’t know...”

  I moved closer, feeling the heat between us. I could smell her. I could feel her. “Just one kiss...” I whispered.

  She swallowed hard, but didn’t stop me. I slid my hand into her hair, cradling the back of her head like I used to. I felt her hand slide up my arm.

  A loud bang on the window rocked the entire car. I let Katie go and backed off. Her gaze flicked over my shoulder. That ugly scowl came back. I turned to see Justine towering outside with her hands on her nonexistent hips.

  She bent forward to try and open the door, but they had automatically locked after the car had sat idle for so long.

  I shot Katie a glance. Her right eyebrow twitched. Justine pounded on the window again and shouted something.

  Katie rolled my window down a crack. Leaning over, she said, “Ever heard of privacy?”

  “Not when it involves my boyfriend and another girl!” she shot back. “Get your own man!”

  She gave me one last glare, then unlocked the doors. “Gladly.”

  My heart sank into my belly when Justine pulled the door open and dragged me out of the car. “If I ever catch you near him again, I’ll kick your ass, new girl.”

  “Good luck, Justine.” The car roared to life. When it took off down the street, the tires squealed across damp asphalt.

  “What are you doing here?!” I cried.

  She ignored my question. “What the hell are you doing with her, Martin?”

  “I was trying to help her with something,” I said.

  I left out the part about Serena’s father. Justine had a big mouth. If I told her, no doubt the information would get around.

  “Oh, yeah? And what’s that? French kissing?”

  I shook my head. “Never mind. I’ll just be glad when this is all over,” I muttered under my breath.

  “When what’s all over?”

  “Everything! When Kathleen goes home, when school goes back to normal, and when Mr. Mays goes to prison.” I threw up my hands and started to march into the lobby of my hotel. “I hate my life!”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I hate my life.

  Serena’s father didn’t want to have anything to do with her, Justine was out to get me even worse than before, and I was fighting hard, unbearable feelings over a one Martin Krane.

  There was no end to the madness, and life would never be normal again.

  I would lose friends, I would lose people I cared about, and I would fail.

  With those jumbled thoughts in mind, I wafted through school on Friday, only just managing to avoid everyone and everything. I moped in the back of the final class for skydiving, watching Serena flirt away without a care in the world. I felt as though I’d let her down hard core.

  I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, and only hoped that skydiving would, indeed, be her ultimate goal.

  That night, I stood in front of the mirror, trying to figure out what I was going to wear while trying to stop Zowe from tearing my clothes to shreds.

  “Gotta wear somethin’ revealin’,” Serena said behind me. “Naked skin makes men think of sex, and that’s what you want on a date.”

  “Uh...that’s not what I want in this case.”

  She tucked one leg under her on the bed. “This ain’t about that moment you had with Martin, is it?”

  I spun around to face her. “How’d you find out about that?”

  She shrugged her slender shoulders. “Justine told everyone. It’s hot news.”

  “Joy.”

  “But, don’t think about him tonight.

  “Think about Kevin. I mean, the way he looks at you sometimes is...you know...”

  “He’s just protective of me.”

  “Right.”

  I turned back to the mirror and smoothed the sides of the dress Serena had let me borrow. I opted for something a little more casual with less of a slit and more material. I was already uncomfortable in my own skin; I didn’t want to be uncomfortable in my clothes, too.

  “You gonna be okay by yourself tonight?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Yeah. Marcus won’t be in until after midnight, so I’ll just rush my date off in the morning. And with that Irish guy behind bars, I’m good.” She smiled.

  A knock sounded at the door to Serena’s apartment. She stood.

  “If he’s got roses, you’re toast,” she said.

  “Why roses?”

  “Roses say ‘I adore you’, carnations say ‘let’s just be friends’, and anything exotic says ‘let’s get busy’.” She giggled as I let out a groan.

  Please don’t have flowers... I begged to myself as she opened the door.

  Kevin smiled at me. He was dressed casually in blue jeans and a button up shirt—nothing special. Might I add he was sans flowers? I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Hey, ready to go? There are some things I want to go over with you.” He stepped into the room.

  “Sure.” I grabbed my coat off a nearby chair. As I passed Serena, she pouted, obviously noticing the lack of any floral decoration. I rolled my eyes before she shut the door behind us.

  * * *

  “So...how’s everything going?”

  I peeked over the top of my menu. Kevin had opted to make reservations at his hotel’s restaurant. As soon as I’d walked in, it took my breath away.

  The place was decorated like an old castle at the back of the hotel. The walls were garnished from floor to ceiling in mouldings fit for a Queen.

  A large fireplace sat nestled under a glittering chandelier. The room was softly lit, accenting the private tables with their white tablecloths and red-velvet backed chairs.

 
All this meant that I had no idea what to think. Flowerless or not, this seemed like a freaking date.

  “Fine,” I replied.

  “What are you looking at?”

  “Uh... What’s monkfish?”

  He gave a soft laugh so as not to disturb other guests.

  “Your guess is as good as mine. You should try the roast duck with plum sauce. I know how you like your duck.”

  That did sound good. My stomach had been running on empty the past few days.

  I was so upset at my failure to reunite Serena with her father that I hadn’t eaten much. The idea of some calorie-healthy French fusion cuisine had me begging for the waiter to come.

  “And by the way,” he continued, “red wine goes best with duck.”

  “Um... Sixteen, remember? Besides, I want to be fresh tomorrow for my...big jump.”

  He smiled. “Gotcha.”

  The waiter came, took our order, and left after offering to place my napkin on my lap. I knew it was customary and polite to do so, but I’d had about enough of people doing things for me over the past week.

  Even so, I allowed it to happen with a patient smile.

  “So, how’s everything going?”

  “You already asked me that,” I pointed out, trying to sound nice.

  “Right... but I wanted specifics. ‘Fine’ isn’t going to cut it.” He made sure to smile.

  I nodded. “Well...Serena’s been extremely well-behaved. She hasn’t said anything to anyone, and she doesn’t even seem upset.”

  The waiter returned with a bottle of wine. He uncorked it, wiped the neck, and poured a small amount into Kevin’s glass.

  After swishing the red liquid around and tasting it, he nodded, and the waiter poured him half a glass.

  “She probably isn’t upset about it,” he said after a moment.

  “That’s kind of sad.” A string of painful memories floated through me. I pushed them aside.

  “No, it’s not,” he assured me. He reached over to touch my hand. “She’ll have a place in the afterlife.”

  “Other than that, it’s been easier these past few days,” I plowed forward. “What with Irish Moses behind bars.”

  He nodded, retracting his hand. “Right. Did you ever find out what he was doing?”

  “No.”

  He nodded. “What else?”

  “I’m just exhausted.”

  “Any more memories?” He seemed concerned. There were little stress wrinkles in his forehead.

  I wished I could have found them endearing.

  “Nope,” I said. “It’s just been a pretty stressful week.”

  The dinner was divine. My duck was perfectly crispy on the outside; full and juicy on the inside.

  Kevin let me taste his veal—which I was partially against just because it’s baby cow—and it was delicious!

  When dessert came, I opted for a cheese and fruit plate instead of a crème brûlée. Kevin ordered a cappuccino.

  Needless to say, the meal was great and we had decent conversation.

  Most of the time, we stayed off-topic; talking about Serena and how I felt about taking a dive the next day.

  But halfway through my wedge of sheep’s milk pecorino with black truffle shavings, he turned serious.

  “There’s something else I wanted to tell you, Katie.”

  I gulped, felling my pulse start to quicken. This was it. This was the moment of truth. “I’m sorry if the last week has been frustrating...what with me tagging along everywhere. I know you really wanted to do this on your own, but I didn’t want you to feel alone,” he explained.

  “It’s all right.”

  “Yeah...no, it’s not. You’re an individual and you like your independence. I shouldn’t have come without telling you first.”

  I shrugged. “It’s nice to have a buffer between Julian and me.”

  He chuckled. “He can be a handful. But...that’s not what I wanted to say.”

  I sat up straight, abandoning my dessert and giving him my full attention. “What?”

  He ran a hand across the week’s growth of dark beard on his chin. I thought he looked much better with it. “I...” He looked up, then back at me. “I’m um... I’m...proud of you, Katie.”

  Proud of me? That’s why he’d asked me to dinner? To tell me he was proud of me? I couldn’t help but burst into a laugh.

  “Why was that so hard to say?”

  “I just didn’t want to sound condescending.”

  Something in his voice made the words sound hollow and untrue. “It doesn’t,” I said with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

  * * *

  “You sure you want to sleep on the sofa? I can give you the bed,” Kevin suggested when we poured into his room.

  “No thanks. I’m good.”

  “All right.” He yawned. “You need anything, just tap on the door, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Without warning, he swept me into a hug, almost crushing me to his chest. “I meant what I said. I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks...” I muttered.

  He let me go and we looked at each other for a moment.

  I hoped he couldn’t hear my heart hammering inside my chest. The way he was looking at me started to make me nervous.

  But then, he broke the gaze and went to the bedroom door.

  “Sweet dreams, Katie.” He disappeared through the door.

  “Night.”

  * * *

  The French doors separating us creaked.

  Sleeping on the sofa proved fruitless, and I’d only just drifted off in the wee hours of the morning when the sound awoke me.

  Footsteps shuffled across the soft carpet. They sounded lazy; subdued.

  A shadow fell over my legs.

  I shifted.

  “Katie...”

  Well, if I wasn’t awake before, I was at that moment. I looked into Kevin’s face. He was standing above me in shades of dark black. He looked tired—his eyes dark and hair a mess.

  “What’s the matter?” I sat up and gripped the back of the couch. “Is there a wraith nearby?”

  “I didn’t mean to say those things to you...” His voice was groggy with sleep.

  “Huh?” I raised an eyebrow. He sniffed. “You didn’t...you didn’t offend me or anything at dinner tonight. I didn’t take it—”

  “Everything will be all right, I promise,” he interrupted.

  “Yeeeaahh...” I drew the word out. “I know it will.”

  I tried to give him a smile, but it seemed as though he was looking right through me.

  “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just want you to be safe,” he went on.

  That’s when I understood. “Oh...”

  He was having one of those dreams again. Sometimes, Kevin would sleepwalk and have dreams about his late wife that sold her soul to a wraith thirty years prior.

  “Will you come back to bed now?” he asked like he always did.

  I cleared my throat. “I need some more time. I’ll come in later,” I replied without hesitation.

  During the night I’d stayed with him when my soul was in danger, that’s all I had to say to get him to go away and stop creeping me out.

  He nodded, turning to make his way back into the room. At the door, he stopped and looked back one final time.

  “I love you...”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. But then, another mumbled word. I sat up straight. Had I heard him right just before he closed the door?

  No, my ears had deceived me, they must have. The two names sounded so similar.

  But that’s what it sounded like. It sounded like he’d said, “Katie...”

  * * *

  “Where were you last night, Katie?”

  I stopped cold on my way to the bedroom. I looked into the kitchen to see Marcus at the stove, watching me.

  “Doing research,’” I lied.

  “Okay.”

  Okay? I gave him a weak smile and started in the direction of the hallwa
y.

  “Did you find anything?”

  I straightened and turned to face him once again. “Sorry?”

  “Did you find out anything about Serena’s father?”

  A lump formed in my throat. I took a deep breath and tossed myself onto the sofa. “Yeah.”

  Marcus clicked the front burner off on the stove and came around the corner to offer me a cup of coffee. I declined.

  “Tell me,” he said, leaning against the counter.

  I sighed. “He said he didn’t have a daughter and didn’t want anything to do with her. I feel like a complete idiot trying to find someone who didn’t want to be found.”

  He studied me for a moment. I almost thought he was going to tell me, “I told you so,” but instead, he sucked in a breath and pushed off the counter.

  “What if I told you that you didn’t find the right man?”

  “Come again?”

  He circled back into the kitchen, dug through a drawer for a few seconds, then came back into the room with a small key.

  He excused himself, so I dropped my feet back onto the floor as he knelt in front of the coffee table. Once the small drawer was unlocked, he pawed through a pile of papers. Finding the right one, he stood and sat next to me on the sofa.

  “Here.”

  I took the folded piece of paper from him. “What is it?”

  “Take a look.”

  I unfolded it and studied what was written there for a moment.

  “Serena’s birth certificate?” I glanced back up at him.

  “What are her parents’ names?” he asked.

  I swallowed hard and allowed my eyes to fall halfway down the page.

  “Chelsea Marie Gibbons and...” I brought my head up slowly, staring into Marcus’s steel gray eyes. Familiar eyes. “Marcus Robert Perry.”

  “Serena’s mother and I had an affair. When she got pregnant, we told Charles. He was furious, but Chelsea wanted to make things work with him. I tried my best, but she insisted Serena take his last name. I stayed as far away as possible, but when she died and Charles left...”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell her?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “It was easier for her to hate him. I was afraid that if I told her the truth, she’d never trust me again.”

  “Why...? Why are you telling me, now? Why did you send me off on a wild goose chase?”

  “I wanted to see how far you’d go.

 

‹ Prev