by Ruby Vincent
“The Purple Door.”
I gasped.
“Guess you’ve heard of it.” Amusement laced his tone.
“Have I heard of it? It was named Cinco’s top restaurant three years in a row. Chef Carlotta Bauer is a genius. Not even Ryan can get a reservation at that place.”
“Glad I chose well.”
“The menu changes every week. Her wealthier patrons reserve a standing table for the entire year, so they don’t let a single creation of hers slip by without making it into their stomachs. How did you get a reservation?”
“Can’t reveal all my tricks.”
“Fine. Be all mysteriously sexy.”
He chuckled.
“Can I get some hints about after dinner? A movie still in our plans?”
“Yes,” he replied. “We’re having dessert there. Feature Theaters is an upgrade on every cinema you’ve gone to. We lounge on adjustable beds, and ring for attendants during the movie. They’ll bring us what we want off the dessert menu.”
“Killian, I’m trying to think of a better date and coming up with nada. You’ve nailed it for yourself and all men to come.”
“Beats Sinjin taking you on a job and cutting a man’s tongue for you?”
“Was that a date?”
“He thinks it was.”
I hummed. “Then, tied.”
“Yeah, I’m not feeling as great about your compliment now.”
We cracked up. I waited so long for Killian to be like this with me. The night could’ve ended on the doorstep with a handful of flowers, and I would’ve named it amazing.
We talked about this and that on the drive. His work to track down the stolen money. La Roche. His latest call with his parents and how Kaylee was doing. The conversation continued to Peach Street, Leighbridge’s home for the culinary connoisseurs.
Killian got stuck behind a line of cars each waiting their turn for a different valet stand. It was impossible to go around for our restaurant due to the line of cars street-parked on both sides.
“Are we going to be late?”
“We have plenty of time. Reservation is for eight-thirty.” Killian closed over my hand. His thumb traced circles on my palm, bringing heat to my cheeks. “Tonight will be perfect, Adeline.”
It was eight twenty-eight when we pulled up to the valet at The Purple Door. Killian came around to help me out, turning me for my first full look at the restaurant.
“What do you think?”
“Incredible.”
The Purple Door wasn’t a coy name.
I was ushered down a palm-lined walkway. The fronds tickled my shoulders, inviting me to the velvet purple door looming ahead.
“I don’t want to say this,” I whispered, “because this is all so amazing. But I’d be perfectly happy dining at a hole-in-the-wall, and munching on popcorn at the drive-in. I know money is even tighter right now.”
Killian pulled me up short, drawing me to him. “It’s not so tight I can’t treat you the way you deserve. This night is for you, Adeline. You’re going to get what’s long overdue.”
Happiness filled me like bubbles—bursting and spreading beneath my skin.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you too.”
THE PURPLE DOOR WAS class with a big C. Fresh, expertly prepared seafood was Chef Carlotta’s specialty. Paintings of the ocean guided us through the intimate space. Two long booths took up the sidewalls, and individual tables covered in laundered linen and crystal dinnerware broke up the seating. Most of the tables were filled, spreading the soft hum of conversation drifting to the high terraces.
Looking out to the terrace, I saw the same pleasing atmosphere was replicated within a cover of plants and palm trees decked by fairy lights. The hostess continued walking till we arrived on the terrace. She placed our menus on the table as Killian held out my chair.
“Your server and sommelier will be by shortly.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
Killian was unfurling his napkin, laying it in half across his lap, and then spacing his utensils a certain distance apart. I noticed he did this every meal. I wonder if he did.
“How’s your father?” he spoke up. “I should’ve asked sooner.”
“It’s okay. He’s doing much better now. Full recovery.”
“What happened exactly?”
I replied with eyes on the menu. “Overdose of his heart medication.”
“I didn’t realize he had issues with his memory.”
“He doesn’t,” I said automatically. “My dad’s sharper than Sinjin’s knifepoints.”
Cash’s smile sought me across the table. “My mistake. I assumed he overdosed because he took too many on accident. How did it happen? Nurse error? Was there a mix-up of his dosage?”
“It happened because he took too many on purpose.”
His smile dimmed. “Ah. I didn’t know... I shouldn’t have pushed.”
“It’s okay.” I held his hand. “All that matters is he’s doing better now. But if it’s all the same, I would like to talk about something else.”
“Of course.”
We shifted the conversation to talk of school, the places Killian’s previous life took him, and the places we wanted life to take us.
“I’ve had this very clear picture in my mind of my father sitting in a big armchair,” I said. “It’s the eve before Christmas, and the tree is lit up with so many lights, we don’t need to turn ours on. A little girl in sleighbell pajamas runs up to him and jumps in his lap. Dad reads to her till she falls asleep in his arms like I used to do.
“So, I guess that’s my answer. Whenever I ask myself if I want kids, that picture pops in my head. More destiny than prophecy.”
“What’s the difference?” he asked.
“Prophecies are vague and often misinterpreted. Destiny is known in the deepest part of you.”
He hummed. “Can’t say I know what it’s like to experience either.”
“Never had a vision of your future you were determined to make real?”
“We have no control over our futures, Redgrave. Attempts to steer what will be, down another path will result in disappointment. One hundred percent probability.”
Grinning a half smile, I propped my elbow on the table and rested my chin in my hand. “Guess I have to do the steering for both of us.”
“Will you?”
“Yep,” I said with a pop. “’Cause I’ve got a picture, and you just happen to be in it. I don’t know if you accepted this yet, but I always get what I want. One hundred percent.”
His laugh rang throughout the courtyard. “Then, I leave my future in your capable hands.”
We toasted our outrageously expensive glasses of sauvignon blanc.
Our meal was served in three courses. First was a plate of oysters we shared, feeding each other over the flickering candle. For the main course, Killian chose ceviche-style salmon, while I scarfed down black truffle pasta. Last was dessert. Freshly made vanilla ice cream covered with delicate chocolate wafers.
“That was the best meal I’ve ever had.”
We stumbled out together, me tucked under his arm.
“I used to think I was a good cook,” I commented. “Carlotta Bauer rid me of that delusion. Let’s thank her for teaching me I need to up my game.”
“She’s no better than you,” he said. “Actually, having eaten both of your cooking, I can fairly say your Cajun butter steak is better than anything she put on our plates.”
“It’s talk like this that gets you laid, Killian Hunt.”
At the end of the walkway, we veered left instead of right.
“The movie theater is a couple of blocks away,” he explained. “Mind if we walk?”
“I don’t mind at all.”
We passed the sea of lights, horns, and cars—all desperate for their night of pampered luxury.
Killian and I slipped between The Purple Door and a two-story, warehouse-type restaurant called Brick Lane.
“Do you see it?” Killian pointed in the distance. “Feature Theaters.”
There it was.
Blue neon letters stuck to the side of a building rising higher than its neighbors.
“Not too far a walk,” I confirmed. “What movie are we seeing?”
“There are a few playing within the hour. We’ll watch whatever you pick.”
We passed by The Purple Door’s outdoor seating, catching the muted sounds of an argument. It faded as we turned a corner, venturing deeper into the alley.
There wasn’t much back here but two dumpsters for the restaurants, and a chain-link fence we’d skirt to take the shortcut to Feature Theaters.
Killian’s hand moved up my arm, gripping my shoulder.
“Do you think this is far enough?” he asked.
“For what?”
“For me to have my way with you with no one seeing?”
I grinned. “Oh, yeah,” I said, spinning around. “This is definitely...”
My reply died in my throat, throttled by the barrel leveled between my eyes.
CASH
“Killian? What are you doing?”
Adeline’s wrinkled nose with a frown I once thought endearing. She swiped at my arm, missing as I smoothly stepped out of reach.
“Who are you?”
“Who am I? If this is a joke, it’s not funny. Get that out of my face.”
“Who are you?” I repeated. “Or if that’s too difficult a question for you, who is Tara Duncan?”
“Tara Duncan?” I had to give it to her. Adeline gave off nothing but confusion. “The name sounds familiar. What does she have to do with anything— Or why you’re pointing a gun at me!”
Smart. She didn’t pretend right off that she never heard of the name.
“Tara Duncan was a caregiver at the Waterford Retirement Home. She retired herself a short while ago.”
“Okay. And?”
“You’re still pretending you don’t know who I’m talking about.”
Adeline threw her hands up. “If she was a caregiver at the home, that’s obviously where I heard her name. The place has three stories, two wings, and over a hundred employees. What does that one have to do with anything?”
“You blew her up in Mercy Park. That’s what she has to do with this.”
A profound silence fell over us—unbroken by traffic or city unrest.
“That is crazy,” she hissed. “Once again I have to ask, are you having a psychotic break?”
I went on like she hadn’t spoken. “I’m going to make a few assumptions here. Blink twice if I’m right. Tara Duncan was blackmailing you, not some pedophile as the news insinuates.”
Adeline didn’t twitch.
“I’m taking that as a yes,” I said. “Second, you were short on time, so you stole the bomb I mentioned I always had tucked under the seat.”
“Killian, I don’t know—”
“Third,” I sliced in. “You didn’t notice when you removed it, that I positioned the bomb face-up, and wires in, so I don’t pull or jostle anything important when I take it out.” A smile stretched across my lips. “I’m all about the little details, Redgrave. If you had been too, I never would’ve noticed something was off. I wouldn’t have examined it to discover an almost exact replica. We wouldn’t be here right now.
“The little details are everything. But I suspect you know that—barring this one mistake. You left a clever trail in the wake of Duncan’s death, all leading to one of the Castian’s regulars.” I snapped my fingers. “Got him right off the list I handed you. Impressive. Not good enough, but skillful all the same.”
She said nothing, hanging on to that wide-eyed, shocked look.
“Well?” I pressed. “Anything you want to say for yourself?”
“What? Is this supposed to be the part where I defend myself against these wild accusations? Why should I, Cash? You know the answer to your question. You know me. I didn’t do this.”
“I’m getting tired of your lies, Redgrave.”
She reached for me. “Cash—”
I cocked the hammer. Adeline flung herself away from me.
“Cash!”
“The next thing out of your mouth will be the truth.”
“Or what?” she shrieked.
“I shoot you. Thought that was obvious.”
“You’re not going to shoot me, you paranoid, delusional idiot! You love me.”
I shrugged. “Got over that fast when I realized nothing about you is real. So, give it up. Who are you really? An assassin? A banger?” I asked. “No matter how I look at it, you couldn’t have arranged that meeting in the bathroom, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t work in your favor.”
“Work in my favor? You ripped me from my life. I was forced to relive my worst trauma because of you, but I made my peace because I love you. All of you. That’s real, Killian.” Her eyes filled with tears. “And that’s why you’re destroying it.”
“Don’t turn this on me.” My hand shook. “I never trusted you. Every instinct said to put you back where we fucking found you, and forget we ever heard your name. I ignored them. I let you spin me in your web. No. More.” I punctuated with a thrust of my gun. “Tell me the truth. Who are you? What did Tara Duncan know that she had to die for?”
“Killian—”
“Tell me!”
“Killian! Look out!”
She lunged at me, shoving me to the side. A shot pierced the silent alleyway.
And it wasn’t mine.
Crashing to the ground, I landed hard on my shoulder.
Pop! Pop, pop!
A thud shook the ground.
Dazed, I landed on Adeline sprawled on the ground. Unmoving.
“Adeline!”
Screams filled the air.
I scrambled toward her, reaching—
Pop!
Pain exploded in my arm. “Argh!”
Twisting, I fired wild shots at the darkened figure standing out of lamplight. They ran behind the dumpster, taking cover.
“You’ve been a naughty boy, Killian.” The chilling, deep voice slithered down the alley. “You didn’t think Kieran would find out, did you? Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
My muscles went rigid.
“You were told to stay straight, and make your payments on time. Now he’s hearing about you negotiating deals out from under the Kings. Very bad.”
Stiffly, I gathered Adeline in my arms. The pretty pink dress soaked with blood. So much, I couldn’t make out the wounds in the dim light. All I saw was the color I once thought my favorite.
I fired again, keeping him pinned. Brick Lane’s dumpster was on the other side of the alley. I’d have to run in the open for cover. But at least we’d have it.
“Kieran doesn’t give second chances. You—”
I bolted, racing for the dumpster.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Bullets struck the ground at my feet. Adeline didn’t stir.
Placing her down, I searched for the wound.
There.
A small hole in the fabric over her abdomen.
Quickly, I peered around the obstruction. I didn’t know this man. Didn’t recognize the voice. Couldn’t make out anything but the knit cap poking out as he looked for me.
This is what we wanted. Kieran found out. He sent the man who’d answer all of our questions—whether he wanted to or not. But...
Adeline’s head lolled, dropping on the metal.
But not this.
“What do you want?” I barked.
“You know what he wants.”
The further away his voice, the more time I had. Setting aside decades of honed survival instinct, I dropped my gun. Moving fast, I unbuttoned and shrugged off my shirt.
“Wake up,” I said to her. “Open your eyes.”
“You were supposed to learn a lesson. One Mommy and Daddy never taught you, so Kieran graciously took up the responsibility.
“There are consequences to your actions.”
“Talk to me.” I encircled Adeline, tying my shirt around her stomach, applying pressure. “Come on.”
Louder, I called, “It was just a job! I was hired to approach him. I didn’t know—”
“Stay away from Richard La Roche and the Kings.” He laughed. “No clue why I’m telling you this. You won’t get a chance to pass on the message. But they’ll get the hint when I dump your and your bitch’s mangled corpses off the dock, and you end up the evening news.”
I palmed my gun in one hand. The other felt desperately for her pulse.
“So, it’s true,” I spat. “The Kings have Kieran on speed dial. Whining and crying to him when they can’t clean up their own mess.”
“This is your mess, Killian.”
I snapped up. That voice was close. Too close.
“And I do the cleanup.”
Whipping around, I squeezed off a shot as he burst from behind our dumpster.
“Argh!” My bullet winged him—snapping him around. His gun went flying.
Turning tail, the briefest glimpse of a sallow-faced, white-haired man raced down the alley.
“Stop!” He couldn’t get away. The only chance I’d get to end Kieran and his stranglehold on my life would go with him. “Stop!”
I fired again. The man slid on the slick concrete, going down on his last good leg. Forcing himself up, he limped to the green barrier of The Purple Door, and the crowd that would swallow him fifteen feet away.
I gave chase—uncaring of screams or approaching sirens. Kieran would fucking pay for this. For my mother. My father. Ophelia.
Adeline.
Skidding to a halt, I turned back to the woman I couldn’t see. Still and silent as she lay dying.
“Fuck!”
I ran to her, holding Adeline in my arms, I raced to the car. The sirens. After him—I didn’t know.
Rounding the corner, a street full of fleeing people met my eyes.
Kieran’s man was gone.
Chapter Nine
The gears groaned.
Screeching. Screaming. Crying.
They pleaded for relief age and wear promised them.
I climbed on board the rusting carousel, revolving so slowly, it carried me away at half my leisurely gait.