by Ruby Vincent
“I’m betting on tires and butterflies...”
“What?” Glancing around, I searched for the owner of the voice.
“...tires and butterflies...”
“I don’t understand,” I called. “Where are you?”
“Butterflies. Tired of your lies.”
A chill crept into my bones.
“I’m getting tired of your lies!”
Spinning around, the once-mechanical horse reared. He brought his hooves down, exiling me to a world of black.
My eyes snapped open, throwing off the dream.
Or did it? Was I still sleeping?
Blurred vision cleared on a silver picture frame housing the photo of a single rose. I swept the space. I was in a plain white bedroom.
I tried moving, felt a sharp burst of pain, and stopped. I was also lying on a queen-size bed beneath white sheets.
White dresser. Television. White egg chair.
I turned my head.
Killian.
He fiddled with an IV bag. Tall. Handsome. Imposing. A bandage wrapped around his arm.
“Killian,” I croaked.
“Redgrave.” He could’ve been an actual doctor speaking to a faceless patient. “Don’t try to sit up.”
“What... happened?”
“You were shot.” Killian let the bag be. Cradling my wrist, he used his watch to check my pulse. “I let them take you to the hospital, booked under Jane Doe. When I was sure you were out of the woods, I brought you here. The rest I can do myself.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You wouldn’t,” he said. “You lost a lot of blood. Unconscious for three days.”
“How bad is it?”
“For a minute there, it was very bad. The doctors got the bullet out and sewed you up. Some time in bed and proper wound care, you’ll make it out with just a scar.”
“Who shot me?”
“He was shooting at me. You pushed me out of the way.” Killian rested my hand on the comforter. “Saved my life.”
“Who?” I repeated.
“Kieran’s messenger.” Those words settled like an anvil on my chest.
An agent of Kieran’s found us. Tried to kill us.
“Your arm.”
“It was a graze. I’m fine.”
“Where is he?”
“Got away.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Why?” I whispered. “Why did he do this? You never said he’d kill you for going to La Roche.”
“I didn’t know he would,” Killian admitted. “A threat. A painful lesson. All expected. Trying to kill me and almost killing you was not.”
“So he got away,” I sighed.
“Yes. And running into him, or any more of Kieran’s men, again is not ideal unless I control the situation. They’re shooting to kill.”
My wits were slowly returning. I latched on to something he said. “Where is here?”
“An apartment in Harlow.”
“Why are we here instead of home? Where’s Saint, Mercer, and Brutal?”
“How much of that night do you remember, Adeline?”
“I’m getting sick of your lies!”
The shout ripped through my head, bringing all that came with it.
“Ah,” he said, observing my expression. “There it is.”
“Why are we here?” I repeated.
“Where else would I take you? This is your apartment.”
“What?”
“You bought it with the money you stole from our account.”
My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“Set yourself up nice too,” he mused. “Seventy-five-inch television in the living room. Leather couches. Chef’s kitchen. Thirty thousand dollars gets you far.”
“Killian,” I breathed.
“The guys are raging. Mercer took off yesterday and we haven’t seen him since. Brutal beat his dummy till his knuckles bled, and hasn’t stopped. As for Sinjin... Don’t think there’s anything left in the house he hasn’t taken his knife to.”
My eyes grew with every horrible sentence.
“I’ve been out looking for you, of course. I won’t stop till I bring you back.”
“What did you do?” I rasped.
“Nothing I can’t undo. Tell me the truth, and I’ll go back to the guys and admit I lied. I’ll take the beating I’ve got coming, and if they want you back, they’ll be told where you are.”
“Sinjin and Brutal think I left them. Mercer—”
“Focus.”
Killian held my chin the way that used to be sweet. Anger flared hot and choking. I slapped him away.
“How could you?!” I bit down on my side’s aching pain. “This is between you and me—!”
“Funny you should say that because Sinjin told me the same thing.” Killian held out his hands. “This is us. Working it out one on one. How long this takes is up to you.”
“All right, then take me home now. I’ve told you everything, Killian. More than I’ve shared with most people.”
“Why did you kill Tara Duncan?”
“I didn’t,” I gritted out.
“What do you want from us? The Merchants. You chose to stay with us before love got involved.”
“There was no choice before love got involved.”
“Not exactly. You could’ve taken off when Sinjin took you back to your old apartment. Anyone else would’ve.”
“This is ridiculous.” I tossed my head, the only thing I could move with minimal pain. “Where’s my phone? I’m calling Saint.”
“Your phone is safe with me. Tell me why you killed Tara Duncan.”
“I didn’t kill anyone. I barely knew that woman.”
“Why was she blackmailing you?” Cash plowed on.
I wondered if I was still dreaming. Could he even hear me? Was this real? How had I gone from the best night of my life to lying helpless in a white room while my love interrogated me?
With that icy, granite look I’d thought I’d never see again.
“What did she know that earned her a death sentence?”
I dropped my head on the pillow, eyes falling shut. This was a dream. And like all dreams, it would fade.
“It’s alright, Adeline.” Cold lips brushed my forehead. “Sleep. You and I have all the time we need.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
I was alone.
THE NEXT DAY—I THINK it was the next day—Killian arrived carrying a tray.
I hadn’t truly been alone. He seemed to appear every time I winced. He carried me to the bathroom. Changed my dressing. Fed me in between my demands to be let out of here. The whole time, he was a silent blank wall. Saying nothing. Refusing to acknowledge my existence beyond caring for me.
Cash set the food on my lap. Pillows were propped under me to raise my head.
“Where’s my phone?” I asked.
“Where did you get the money that burned up in that park?”
“I want my phone, Cash.”
“Were you the one blackmailing pedophiles?” He pressed the oatmeal-covered spoon to my unsmiling lips.
I gripped his wrist. “You decided what happened all on your own. Why go through the charade if you refuse to believe anything I say?”
“Someone replaced that bomb, Redgrave. Any version of events where you play innocent and continue treating me like a fool, will be rejected,” he said. “It’s important you know that. Your hope of leaving this apartment depends on it.”
“You can’t keep me here.”
“Why not? This is what we agreed. If you can’t be with us, I’d set you up in your own place—”
“—and you guys would come to me! We’d still be together.”
Cash removed my hand. He pressed the spoon to my lips again. I opened, not knowing what else to do. He was gentle feeding me and withdrawing for more.
“Did you lie to me?” I whispered. “Did you not love me at all?”
He paused slightly dipping the spoon in the
bowl, then recovered like nothing happened.
“I’ve suspected something was off for a while,” he continued. “I knew it was that night on the roof.”
“The roof? Why?”
“Grifter tactics,” he stated. “You used advanced con man techniques to initiate warm feelings toward you. I used to follow the same script.”
I shook my head, staring at him in disbelief. “Grifter tactics? Are you hearing yourself, Cash? That wasn’t a con, ice man! It’s called opening up. Being vulnerable.”
“I believe that of anyone else. But that wasn’t a normal night, and you aren’t a normal person. Tell me who you really are, Adeline.”
A frustrated noise burst out of me. “Killian, this is doing serious damage to our sex life. Expect long, difficult weeks of celibacy.”
He laughed. “It’s not looking too good for yours either. You just dumped all of your boyfriends and took off with their money.”
“When I get out of here, I’ll tell them the truth, and the beating you’ll have coming will be from me.”
The smile still hung on his lips. “Should I take it this is our breakup?”
My throat squeezed around the reply. “If you don’t take me home now... Yes.”
“Eat up.” Killian rose from the bed. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
The door closed shut on him.
I waited, ears pricked up. Thudding footfalls, then a door slamming.
Gathering every ounce of my strength, I set the tray aside and slid out of bed. I bit hard on my lip righting myself. The bullet I took for that bastard missed any vital organs. It was shock and heavy blood loss that almost did me in. He forgot to mention the pain would come back to finish me off.
I breathed slow, channeling calm the way Dad taught me to. Pain was a construct. It was signals and impulses in your mind, warning you to stop, slow down, fix your broken parts.
I had all the warning I needed. Time for the pain to go away.
Bit by bit, it faded to a dull ache. My breathing evened out. I held on to that steady rhythm as I wheeled my IV along for the ride, stepping out into the living room.
Killian hadn’t had much time to set up his charade. It explained the bare bones décor of the place. A huge television hung on the wall as promised. It was the only thing on the walls. No pictures. No paintings. No prints.
He gifted me a leather couch set without carpet or end tables. Moving to the windows, I peered down, down, and down. This Harlow high-rise apartment would’ve set him back quite an amount. Though it came with the added bonus of being too high for me to signal the moving dots below for help.
Slowly, I went to the kitchen. A chef’s paradise indeed. The stainless-steel appliances came with the apartment. The fully stocked fridge was courtesy of Cash. My final stop was the welcome mat.
My feet sank in the scratchy material. The feel of it surprised me more than the lock’s refusal to give. I twisted—yanking as much as my weakened state would allow.
No use. Killian outfitted this place for a long stay.
Mine.
A food, bed, toilet, entertainment, and a view. Maybe I should thank him. This cage was a lot nicer than the one Saint put me in.
I returned to my bed, easing my aching body beneath the sheets. I thought I was through underestimating Killian Hunt. He was not Sinjin’s wild impulsivity or Mercer’s shadowed evasiveness. He was cool and calm as a stream eroding the riverbed. He would wait as long as it took to hear my story. And that wait would be long.
I shut my eyes, letting sleep take me.
The dance begins, Erik.
CASH
“Well?” Sinjin was on me when I came through the door. “Did you find her?”
“No.”
“Where the fuck are you looking?! You said you could track the money down and it would lead to her.”
“I can, and it will,” I said calmly. “But I also told you Adeline Redgrave was not what she seemed. She covered her tracks better than expected.”
It had been a week since Adeline woke up in her new home. It was better to say I covered my tracks well. They didn’t know a thing about that night except that I took Adeline out to dinner, and found her gone when I returned from the bathroom. I even left out my run-in with Kieran’s errand boy, lest they make the assumption he did something to her instead of her running off.
“What about the friend?”
His noise brought Brutal out of his room. His interrogation was silent, but no less effective. He shoved me against the wall, holding me in place. I took it in stride.
“Cross was in the process of moving,” I replied. “Did it by the time Adeline took off. She didn’t leave a forwarding.”
“Fuck!” Saint seized a chair and flung it at the television. It died in a shower of glass and sparks. Our living room was a mess of feathers, gutted couch cushions, broken glass, and plaster.
Fuck is right. I can add that to the items I have to replace. Redgrave is costing a lot more than thirty thousand.
“Her father’s gone too.”
I frowned. “What?”
“Went to the home today. They said he moved out. That Rowe woman refused to say where. I’m going to pay her another visit.”
“No, you’re not.” He advanced on me, eyes blazing. “I am,” I finished. “You’re not thinking straight, Sin. Leaving a trail of bodies in her wake isn’t going to draw her out. I’ll find her. Trust me.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
“Then, what the fuck are you doing here? Go back out there and look.”
“I got a message from the bank. I came back to call and see what they can tell me.”
He jerked a nod. “Good. I’m going to her old neighborhood to find out what her roommates and her homeless best friend knows. Brutal’s tracking down Jocelyn Daniels.”
My lips curled at the name. “That woman is the last person Adeline would go to.”
“Yes, but from the few details Bunny gave, I got the impression her mother has made a job out of stalking her. She will tell me where Adeline likes to go.”
The tone brokered no argument. He wouldn’t get one from me anyway. The more time they spent spinning their wheels, the easier for me.
“Good idea.” I pried Brutal’s fist from my coat. “I’ll let you know what the bank rep has for me. Where’s Mercer?”
“Gone.”
Sinjin blew out the door—end of conversation.
Brutal returned to his room, emerged carrying his backpack, and followed Sinjin out.
My phone went off again.
“Hello.”
“We need to meet.”
“Richard.”
“Are you alone?” An odd quality tinged his voice. “Come now. Corner of Belmont and Grand. Black convertible.”
Is that... fear?
Grimace deepening, I said, “I don’t think I should, Richard. I’m in a spot of trouble these days, and I think you know something about it.”
“Why else would I be calling?” he snapped. “Belmont and Grand. Now.”
“No.” I slammed into my office. “Tell me who you spoke to. Now.”
“This isn’t my fault!”
Yelling? Richard La Roche never yelled when oozing smug would do just as well. This was serious.
“I didn’t ask for you to blow into my life with your double-faced deals. You and your bloody Merchants! Last chance. Be there in twenty min—”
“No, you be at Randolph and Wells in thirty minutes. No guards. Take a taxi. If you do not follow these instructions, I’ll disappear and leave you in whatever mess you created.”
“I cannot leave the house without Samuel. It’s not safe.”
“Then, you’ve made your choice.”
I hung up.
Richard called back immediately.
Then again.
Then three more times.
I took the ringer’s eventual silence to mean he got the hint.
Twenty minutes later, I was at the corne
r of Randolph and Wells. Parked in the lot for Mercy Park.
A black taxi rolled to a stop at the sign. La Roche climbed out, leaned in to pay the man, and cast a squinting glance around him.
I watched him walk up and down for a few minutes.
He didn’t recognize the car I drove to his home among the half a dozen in the lot. I borrowed Adeline’s car. It wasn’t like she was using it.
I lowered the window. “Richard,” I called.
He spun at my voice.
“Over here.”
Head bent, Richard quick-walked across the parking lot and slammed inside.
“Drive,” he ordered. “Keep— Whoa!”
My gun jammed between his wrists. “Turn out your pockets. Slow.”
“I don’t have a weapon, Killian. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then, we’ll get through this part quick and painless.”
Teeth bared, La Roche did as I ordered. Fixed as I was on him, I noted the bags under his eyes and the attempt to conceal them with makeup. There was a small tear in his collar that a fastidious man like him should’ve caught, and the darting eyes were telling enough.
Richard La Roche. Investment banker. One of the best forgers in the country. Leader of the biggest fraud operation in this city.
Afraid for his life.
“There,” he said, flinging his jacket off. “May we go?”
Without a word, I holstered my gun and started driving.
He broke the silence. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I doubt it.”
“You and Enzo came to me with offers. You should’ve known I’d pit one against the other.”
Yes, I should’ve known you were a double-dealing bastard. It’s the nature of con men.
“I told Enzo the Merchants approached me with better terms and a generous signing bonus—to the tune of half of Vega’s insurance payout. Said if he reverted to our original agreement, and did not dare to renegotiate again, I wouldn’t take my business elsewhere.”
“Let me guess, the murderous crime boss didn’t appreciate an ultimatum.” I tsked. “You’ve been living in the world of gentlemen thieves for far too long, Richard. Out here, they don’t settle their differences by clever tricks.”
“Do not patronize me,” he spat. “I couldn’t know what that puffed-up thug in a knock-off Brioni suit was capable of. I didn’t have dealings with the man to know what he’d unleash.”