Relentless

by Sybil Bartel

  Glancing at his phone, Ty lifted his chin once.

  “I hope you’re right.” Luna looked at me. “Park her Maserati in one of the visitor spaces. She can pick it up in twenty-eight days.”

  The door to the stairwell opened, and the new guy, Ronan, who’d started a couple weeks ago and been assigned the front desk after I was put in the field, looked at Luna. “Someone’s at the lobby entrance asking for you.”

  Luna glanced at his watch. “Who is it?”

  Not shrugging, not blinking, standing five yards from us, Ronan didn’t raise his voice. He spoke like he always spoke, quiet and monotone. “Don’t know.”

  Luna’s hands went to his hips as his eyes narrowed. “Then how do you know they’re asking for me?”

  “Uh-oh.” Talon chuckled. “Here we go.”

  “I’m out.” Collins walked to his ride.

  “Christ,” Ty muttered. “We’re done here.”

  As Ty pulled away, Talon saluted us from the passenger seat. “Later, ladies.”

  Luna looked pointedly at Ronan.

  “It’s after hours,” Ronan stated without intonation. “I didn’t let her in.”

  “Her,” Luna clipped, sounding less than happy. “And she’s asking for me?”

  “More specifically, yelling your name. On repeat,” Ronan added.

  A string of cuss words in Spanish erupted from Luna. “And you didn’t think to let her in, so, I don’t know, she didn’t cause a fucking scene in front of the office? Jesu-fucking-cristo, Ronan.”

  His expression void of all emotion, gaze locked, Ronan stood stock-still as if awaiting further instruction.

  I’d seen him do this enough times now that I was beginning to wonder about his sanity. I’d heard he’d done explosive ordnance disposal in the Marines, and rumor had it those EOD technicians were hard-core as hell. They had to be. I couldn’t think of a more stressful job in the Marines, but Ronan took it to a whole new level.

  “Tall, blonde?” Luna asked.

  “Copy,” Ronan affirmed.

  “Let’s go.” Luna glanced at me. “You too.” He strode toward the stairs. “Both of you can have the pleasure of meeting Fallon Amherst,” he said dryly.

  LIKE AN INSANE PERSON, I banged on the locked glass door of Luna and Associates. “André Luna!” Pissed at Leo, losing my mind with worry, my anxiety reached a new high.

  A man in a black Luna and Associates polo and black cargo pants stood up from behind the reception desk. Pretending he didn’t see me or hear my banging, the jerk shuffled some papers around.

  Silently cursing Leo and the jerk inside, I tried the locked door again before I threw my fist against it. “I need to see André Luna right now!”

  The jerk didn’t even glance at me. Turning, he walked through the stairwell door.

  I banged on the glass door as hard as I could. “André Luna!” Pain shot up my arms and I cursed. Irrational, I threw both fists at the glass one more time. “André Luna!”

  What the hell was I doing?

  Striding back to my Mercedes, I got behind the wheel. My hands shaking, my heart pounding, I threw it in gear and pulled into traffic without even looking. Horns honked, and I jerked the wheel, swerving into the bike lane.

  Slamming on the brakes, I gripped the steering wheel.

  My breath short, my chest tight, I needed to get a grip. I’d left Leo Amherst so he couldn’t do this to me anymore. I was in control of my life. Not Leo, not Summer, not even my mother.

  I took a breath, then another, then I dialed Leo.

  It barely rang once. “Fallon, I’m on the other line.”

  “You promised,” I spat out, sounding more like a jilted lover than an angry ex. “You said you would be at Luna and Associates. Where is she, Leo?”

  “I didn’t say I would be there, Fallon,” he patronized. “I said to meet me there. You didn’t show, and I had to leave. I have a business to run.”

  New anger mixed with old anger. He’d always had a business to run. “It’s been less than twenty minutes. I’m out front right now!” I didn’t know why I was yelling. Nothing had changed. Nothing ever would. Leo answered to no one, no matter the circumstances. “Forget it, Leo. I’m done.”

  His tone instantly turned placating. “Fallon, come on. You know you and Summer are the most important things to me. You may have divorced me, but that truth will never change.”

  I hated him. “If your daughter was important to you, she wouldn’t be in this situation.” Exactly what this situation was, I wasn’t entirely sure, but his neglect of her and efforts at diminishing my authority with her at every turn had created this. Summer was still a child at heart. All she was looking for was attention. She’d always been looking for it. And she got it. But not from her father.

  Leo sighed. “I have to go. We’ll talk about this later.” He hung up.

  “Shit.” Glancing behind me, I eased into traffic, but my hands were shaking so bad, I couldn’t drive. Pulling into the next driveway, I looked up at the expensive hotel that had a five-star restaurant.

  A restaurant I’d eaten at once before with Leo.

  The valet waved me forward.

  Irony had a name. And the hotel had a bar.

  I pulled forward.

  The valet opened my door. “Good evening, ma’am.” His gaze hit my face, and he broke out in a smile as his voice turned salacious. “Mrs. Amherst, lovely to have you join us. Checking in?”

  It was suddenly hard to breathe. “I need a moment. Please.”

  “Of course.” He nodded like he encountered panicking women all the time and pointed a couple yards ahead. “Would you like to pull up right there? Or do you need me to move your vehicle for you?”

  I didn’t want anyone in my car. I didn’t want anyone near me. I didn’t want to deal with whatever had happened to Summer, and I didn’t want to deal with Leo. I didn’t want to deal with any of it.

  “No, I can do it,” I managed to tell the valet.

  “Of course.” He smiled again. “Pull right up and take all the time you need. We’ll be here.” He thankfully shut my door.

  I pulled up and put the engine in park, but I didn’t turn the car off.

  Cranking the air-conditioning, I tried to even my breaths and focus on anything other than my evening. I watched the clock. I watched people come and go from the hotel, and I watched the valet do his job.

  Life went on around me, and fifteen minutes later, I could take a full breath. Whatever trouble Summer was in, I told myself that this time, it wasn’t my responsibility. Not to mention, Leo had made that clear when he hadn’t even bothered to meet me.

  Not ready to go home yet, deciding to have one drink at the hotel bar, I opened my car door but quickly had to pull it shut as a full-size pickup truck barreled past me on the way to the self-park area.

  My heart went into overdrive again, and I closed my eyes, taking a moment to breathe through it. Reassuring myself I had no reason to panic, that I was in control of my own damn life, I opened my door again.

  The valet was right there. “Ready to go in, Mrs. Amherst?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Excellent.” He tore off the valet ticket and handed it to me. “Let me know if you need anything.” He smiled like he had before. “Anything at all.”

  “Thank you.” Avoiding eye contact with him, I turned toward the opulent front entrance.

  “Enjoy your stay,” the valet called after me.

  I walked into the hotel, and the concierge greeted me like he knew me. “Good evening, Mrs. Amherst. Can I help you with anything?”

  I’d been dealing with the fame that came from first being a supermodel, then marrying Leo, most of my life, but I’d never gotten used to it.

  Flustered, I averted my gaze. “Just point me in the direction of the restroom, please.”

  “Yes, of course.” The concierge gestured toward the rear of the lobby. “Back and to your left.”

  “Thank you.” Needing a mome
nt to compose myself before I went to the bar, I headed for the restroom.

  LUNA PUSHED THROUGH THE STAIRWELL door to the lobby and looked toward the front doors as Ronan and I followed. “Where is she?”

  “Gone, apparently.” Ronan moved to the security monitors behind the reception desk.

  Luna walked to the front door and glanced out. “Pull up the street view.”

  Ronan brought up the feeds and scrolled back a few minutes.

  And there she was.

  “Fallon Amherst.” Her name fell out of my mouth like it’d been waiting eleven years to be set free. Banging on the front door with both fists, she was stunning. And angry as hell. “She’s pissed.” Which made me pissed.

  Luna looked over my shoulder at the monitors. “Mierda.” He glanced at Ronan. “And you didn’t let her in, why?”

  Exactly my fucking question.

  “There’re two high-profile clients upstairs in the apartments, it’s after hours, she had an unconfirmed identity, there’re no listed intakes, and we currently don’t have any missing clients.” Ronan rattled off excuses without an ounce of emotion. “There was no reason to let her in.”

  “What if she were in distress?” Luna pointed at the screen. “See that?” Ten yards behind her car that was parked directly in front, there were two single headlights showing in the shadows. Too far apart to be a car or SUV, it had to be two motorcycles.

  Goddamn it. “Luna,” I clipped. “Those could be Estevez’s men.”

  “I know. Run the feed forward,” Luna ordered Ronan.

  Ronan ran it forward a few seconds as we all watched.

  Shoulders proud, legs for days, Fallon Amherst walked to her car in too-high heels like she was born in them. Getting behind the wheel, she floored it into traffic and narrowly missed three passing cars before jerking her Mercedes back to the curb.

  “Shit,” I muttered. “Is she drunk?”

  “She doesn’t usually drink,” Luna answered. “Keep running the feed.”

  Ronan typed in a command on the computer, and the footage kept playing. Thirty seconds later, she was still in her vehicle, parked illegally at the curb. Ronan fast forwarded the feed. At the five-minute mark, she pulled back out into traffic at a more sedate speed and stopped at the red light at the intersection visible in the security camera’s view.

  A couple seconds later, the headlights in the shadows moved.

  Two men on black Ninjas came into view as they pulled onto the street a few cars behind Fallon’s Mercedes.

  Alarm spread. “Boss, this isn’t good.”

  His eyebrows drawn together, Luna stared at the screen. “Wait.”

  “We have to find her.” Estevez’s men were following her. “Call her cell.”

  “Just wait a second.” Luna crossed his arms. “Watch.”

  The light changed in the video, and Fallon’s Mercedes pulled ahead.

  “Right there.” Luna pointed at the screen.

  The two motorcycles didn’t pull ahead after Fallon. Moving to the left lane, they turned west then shot forward and out of the view of the security footage.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked Luna.

  Luna exhaled. “Hopefully exactly what it looked like.”

  “Which is?”

  Luna glanced at me. “A lucky break.”

  “You don’t believe in luck.” I’d only been working for him for a month, but that much I knew. André Luna was meticulous about his profession. Being prepared was his religion, but being exceptional was in his blood. In his eyes, that left no room for happenstance.

  “I also don’t believe in coincidence, but those motorcycles weren’t after her.” Luna tipped his chin at the monitor. “They didn’t follow her.”

  “We don’t know that.” I had a shit feeling about this. “We can’t see what happened at the next intersection.” Or the one after that. “You need to call her and tell her to come back here.” Immediately.

  Luna turned his knowing stare on me, and for three seconds he held me under the microscope. “Do you know her? Personally?”

  Fuck. “Do I look like I know Fallon Amherst?”

  Luna studied me a moment, then glanced at Ronan. “Pull up the traffic cameras for the intersection.”

  Ronan typed on the computer, and a moment later we were looking at the intersection from another angle.

  “Go back a couple minutes,” Luna ordered.

  Ronan obliged.

  A few seconds later, we all watched her Mercedes as she drove north through the intersection and the motorcycles turned west.

  “Calling it,” Luna clipped. “We’re done here for the night. Both of you go home and get some sleep.” He glanced at Ronan. “And next time, open the door.”

  “Protoco—” Ronan didn’t even finish the word before Luna was on him.

  “I know what the protocols are, I fucking wrote them. I’m telling you, the next time a woman knocks down our door after business hours, answer.” Luna strode to the elevator and stepped on.

  Too fucking pissed at Ronan for not opening the door for Fallon, I didn’t say shit to him. I aimed for the stairwell door.

  IN JEANS AND COWBOY BOOTS, I slapped a twenty on the fancy hotel bar. “Budweiser.”

  The bartender looked at me like he’d stepped in something back at the ranch. “You old enough to drink?”

  I didn’t bother saying shit. I grabbed my wallet, fished my license out and tossed it on the bar next to the money. I was pissed about everything, and I rarely got pissed, which was why I was here.

  After changing out of my ripped L&A polo and putting on a T-shirt, I’d thrown on jeans and my cowboy boots and left work. Instead of going to the ranch to check on the construction before turning in for the night, I’d pulled into the damn hotel on a whim because a beer had suddenly sounded like a good idea.

  Except now I was regretting the decision.

  The prick bartender didn’t even look at my ID. Rolling his eyes, he got me a cold Bud and unceremoniously dumped it in front of me before taking the money. “Nine fifty.”

  A ten spot. For a damn Bud. Fucking Miami Beach.

  I took a sip of the beer and tried to forget about seeing Fallon’s long legs and desperate face as she pounded on the front door of L&A. Hopefully she’d gone home.

  Home.

  What a joke.

  Texas had been my home until I got kicked out of the Marines and showed back up at the house I was raised in. Mama didn’t even let me clear the front porch. Told me to come back when I was worth a damn. I didn’t bother telling her I was medically discharged by no fault of my own. And I sure as shit didn’t bother explaining to her, again, that Cogan’s syndrome wasn’t my fucking fault. She’d washed her hands of me long before that day.

  Tired of her, of all of it, I’d gotten in my truck and driven till I couldn’t drive anymore. Wound up in the Florida Keys, parking my ass at a bar and ordering a beer I had no business drinking. Five seconds after the Bud touched my lips, some dude took one look at my high and tight and asked if I was a soldier. Stupidly engaging, I’d said Marines. The fucker’d had the nerve to say it was the same thing.

  On principal, I’d laid him out.

  Flat on his back in the sand at an outdoor bar, he’d burst out laughing. Then he’d offered me a job. I should’ve hightailed it out of there, but I was never as smart in the moment as I was in hindsight. Taking him up on his offer, I’d walked into the worst kind of hornet’s nest.

  Security.

  For a cartel money launderer.

  I was lucky I’d survived the last five years.

  Last month I’d gotten even luckier when Ty Asher, who was working an assignment for André Luna at the time, shot my old boss. Now I worked for Luna doing real security, but tonight didn’t feel like I did a damn thing right.

  Fallon was out there unprotected. My first client, her daughter, was hauled off to rehab, and I was at a bar because once again, I didn’t have a damn home to go to. The ranch I�
�d bought a few months back was still being renovated, and while the stables and the apartment above them were all done, the main house was still without a kitchen. The contractor had promised me two more weeks a month ago. I was still waiting.

  So, courtesy of my new boss, my ass had been parked in one of the furnished corporate apartments that sat a few floors above the office. Which was why I was here, at a hotel bar, trying to have moment’s peace without thirty-seven former Marines breathing down my neck.

  “Anything else?” The bartender dumped my change in front of me.

  I glanced at the two coins and ten-dollar bill. Then I chuckled. “You’re either optimistic as hell or resigned to a shit tip.” I shoved my ID back in my wallet.

  “Resigned. You don’t strike me as a big tipper.”

  “Maybe you should try harder, or at least even the odds.” I nodded toward the ten and half smiled. “Break that bill up.”

  “I’ll take my chances.” No humor in his tone, he moved down the bar toward a couple dudes in suits.

  I smelled her before I saw her.

  “Bartender?”

  Exotic like a tropical breeze, but not sweet, the spice of an expensive woman’s perfume settled around me. Mildly curious but not planning on doing a damn thing about it, I looked up from my Bud.

  And fucking froze.

  No.

  Damn.

  Way.

  A hundred emotions washed over me, not the least of which was relief.

  Fallon Amherst.

  Standing right next to me.

  I couldn’t help it, I grinned. “Hi.”

  “Not interested,” she clipped in a voice made for sex as she avoided looking at me and held her hand up to the prick behind the bar who was busy ignoring her.

  “Fair enough.” I whistled at the bartender.

  When he glanced over, he looked pissed as hell, but he came toward us. “Like I said, resigned.” He took my ten. “Another painfully American beer coming right up.”

  Unfazed, because it suddenly felt like my luck had gone from shit to level ten lottery, I was still smiling. “Not me, whatever the lady wants.” I pulled out my wallet and tossed another twenty on the bar.

  Barely sparing me a glance, Fallon Amherst issued a demand in her sultry voice that’d been polished by years of good fortune. “White wine, preferably dry, and I will pay for my own drink, thank you.”