by Raven Scott
Tossing the cheese into the garbage, I snatched my phone as it buzzed from a call, and a wry smile stretched my lips. A fury of emotions sent shivers down my spine, but surprise rose my brows when I saw it was Hannah calling.
“Hello?”
“Hey! Riley! I was just thinkin’ of you. This super rich lady from last night tipped me with a gift card to this place— Sophia’s Grand Boutique— and I just checked it, and it’s got like $10,000 on it. Wanna go shopping?” I paused at the excitement that dribbled from Hannah’s tone, and the line crackled thickly against my cheek. “I wasn’t very happy to take over those tables, but I’m glad I did. She was, like, dripping diamonds and a huge bitch, and I thought she was gonna stiff me hard. While she was walking out, she said I looked a lot like a grandkid, and her grandkid loved this store, but everyone decided to go on vacation or something without her— it was really sad, actually. At least she had a reason to be grumpy, though.”
“U— uh. . .” I had no idea what to say to that, and Hannah giggled over the phone. Her knocking on my apartment door echoed in my ear, and goosebumps washed my arms as I jumped. Hurrying across the kitchen, I unlocked the door to let her in, and she hung up to bop her head encouragingly.
“I know I can’t spend it all myself. 75% of my clothes are work, and the other 25% are pajamas. Bu-ut you are trying to find a new job, yeah?” She bumped my hip playfully, and I nodded dumbly as I tried toe wrap my head around her offer. Grinning ear to ear at me, Hannah slipped her phone into her ratty jeans to cross her arms under her bust. “Plus, I can’t cash it in or anything, and I looked online, and their clothes are really much more your style.”
“My style?” Shutting the door, my hands and the bridge of my nose tingled as Hannah nodded with a little humpf. “D— don’t you want to spend it on yourself? Or sell it online or something? Or just keep it and use it when you can?”
“I’m honestly not that concerned about it. I have a great job, and I figured that since you wanted to work in an office, you could use it more. Not to say you’re destitute or anything, but— seriously, Riley, you budget down to the dollar. You deserve some blow-back-free splurging, and you need to go through all your clothes, anyway, right?” She giggled at my quizzical expression, and I ducked into my refrigerator to cool my flaming face. Were my struggles that obvious? “So, tell me about this new guy.”
“Reece? He’s, like, my soul mate.” My utter lack of sarcasm settled the light atmosphere, and I grabbed my eggs to just toss them into the garbage without bothering to look at the date. “I messed up. I should’ve just stuck with my gut and stayed with him, but I didn’t, and. . .”
“There was no way of knowing you’d be good together outside your freaky sex stuff, though, so maybe all this is a good thing?” Scrunching up my nose at that, I shut the refrigerator door to sigh, leaning against the sink while Hannah pulled a chair to drop heavily. “You’re right, though, Riley— you should always trust your gut in situations like that. And that sucks. But. . . like, it’s not like you’ll leave him again, right?”
“I asked him if he wanted to get married the other day.” Covering my face to keep my cheeks from melting off my skull, I flopped my head back to groan. Mortification slithered up my neck, and Hannah’s gasp rang in my ears. “I meant that— you know, if he ever thought that he would get married or something, but— and then he was all like ‘I’d rather the government not fuck me in the ass’ and whatever— which I expected, but come on.”
“Please tell me you didn’t make it worse by saying something stupid, Riley.” I felt as dumb as her tone sounded, but I shook my head anyway. My conversation with Reece was all I could think of for a second as I inhaled deeply through my nose. Even then, I couldn’t wash myself of my embarrassment. “What did he say?”
“He said that there’s a difference between a wedding and marriage, and that if he was gonna, he’d want to meet my parents first so he could tell my mom she’s a cunt.” Hannah choked on her own spit in a shocked laugh, and I ran my hands down my face to lift my head. “I don’t know— maybe I’m jealous or something? Reece’s babysitting this uber-rich dude’s girlfriend, and for some reason, he‘s making her sleep on his couch. They have this huge tension, but I don’t think he realizes that she’s just miserable and sad.”
“Ew— is she one of those girls?” Shaking my head quickly, my lips twisted sadly, and Hannah arched a brow. “Wanna invite her? I’m not paying, though, but she’s probably got killer style? And if Reece hates her, why not?”
“. . . I wouldn’t say he hates her, but he doesn’t want her around, and she doesn’t want to be around, so it’s contentious— yeah. I’ll ask.” Swiping my phone off the counter, I opened my texts to Reece to smile small. “I’m supposed to get a call back from the person that interviewed me today.”
“You already got that in motion, huh? What company?” My mind went blank as I shot Reece a quick text, and I glanced up from my phone screen to lick my lips heavily. The interview with Vanessa had gone fantastic, and hope blossomed in my chest.
“Brass Herring Solutions. They have branch offices all over the country and even in Canada. I did some research on them, but really not a lot. They market anything, like tv commercials for drugs and food and everything in between. It’s basically what I was doing before, but the huge difference is I’m not a contractor. The boss. . . I’m getting mixed signals. Reece says she’s a slave driver.”
“They all are. High-powered women like that are just control freaks in a position to exercise it. That’s great, though. Women bosses expect a lot higher quality work, but I’ve found they don’t nitpick as much compared to guys. And they don’t explode on you if you mess up.” My phone vibrated in my hand, and I turned my gaze back as Hannah slumped in the chair. “I get glowing reviews, but the guy manager on my off shifts is an asshole. I don’t know why he’s not fired yet.”
‘Reece: I will GLADLY drive you all anywhere you want to go. Just let me know when.’
“He said he’ll ‘gladly’— in all caps— take us where we want to go. You know, it’s really sad, honestly. I think Delilah is probably really nice ordinarily. Her boyfriend works overseas, so. . . I guess, they’re not really dating, just sort of on and off again screwing around. But apparently, it’s been going on for almost five years. I can’t imagine how upsetting that must be. When she talked about him, she seemed so. . . so blah. . . like it just sapped the energy from her.” The more I thought about Delilah’s predicament, the sadder it seemed to have to live through. Her boyfriend was essentially stringing her along— the situation was probably a Hell of a lot more complicated than I knew, but the essentials were the same.
He worked too much and didn’t spend time with her. That’d take a toll on anyone.
“Well, we’ll be her friends. It’ll be great. And who says shopping is a bad coping mechanism?” Chuffing lightly at that, I shook my head as I shot Reece a brief text.
22
Reece
“This is so nice. . .” I stretched out in the driver’s seat of my car and pulled down the vizor to savor being alone for the first time in a week. Delilah was such an unhappy person, and she had every right to be. . . but wow, was she a fucking drag.
Pulling back my seat lever, I sighed in content only to have my phone ring shrilly, and my lips twisted as I debated ignoring it. Reaching for the device in the cupholder, I swiped the ‘Accept’ button without bothering to see who was calling. It’s just Vanessa. She’s the only one that calls me.
“Hey, what’s up? You got an update for me on that cunt and her shady secret?” Settling into my seat, I inhaled deeply even as a frown dragged my mouth. “Vanessa?”
“I’m not Vanessa.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I sat up as stiffness gripped my muscles in a vice.
“Mr. Santino— I apologize. I was expecting Vanessa. What can I do for you?” Clearing my throat roughly, I pulled a face at my own stupidity as anxiety curdled in my gut. Carlyl
e Santino never called me personally unless it was a job, and we both knew what a clusterfuck that last one was. “I’m currently—”
“I’m aware. We need to talk. Considering you’ve been sitting outside a fashion boutique for the last half hour, I take it that Delilah decided to bury herself in a mountain of clothes.” What the fuck. I jumped when a soft knock sounded on my passenger window before reaching to slap the lock button. Carlyle fucking Santino slid into the passenger seat, hanging up his phone to catch my eyes, and the air became frigid. “Let’s chat. I want to know what you think you’re doing misusing resources for personal gain.”
Panic slammed into my gut, but I managed to keep a straight face by the grace of fucking God! Why did Carlyle Santino come here personally? What the fuck was going on? Did this have nothing at all to do with Delilah and Darren? If not, he couldn’t send me a fucking email and not make me regret not wearing my brown pants? Shit.
“Someone put a hit on my girlfriend. I have grounds to pursue a recon period.” My voice didn’t waver, but Carlyle’s eyes narrowed on me as he cocked his head like a viper readying to strike. Being under his scrutiny was killer in itself, and a cold sweat broke out under my jacket even as I cleared my throat roughly. “I’m doing my due diligence with surveillance, and the client hasn’t agreed to anything, yet.”
“Vanessa isn’t your secretary— she’s mine. Since you’ve got plenty of time doing nothing for the next 3 months, take it upon yourself to do your own research on your client.” I nodded curtly, and Carlyle frowned under furrowed brows as he straightened. “Darren Willians is the biggest arms dealer in the world. Delilah’s safety is more important than whoever is trying to kill your girlfriend. That being said. . . she knows everything about his operations, so I’ll be inviting her to my home in the next month. I suggest you take that time to sort your own issue, but you’re not to act on anything until she’s safely within my walls.”
“Of course, sir.” Discomfort lodged like a stone in my chest, and I held my breath as Carlyle’s expression drew in thoughtfulness.
“. . . It’s strange, isn’t it? Years ago, my wife was sent a package bomb that could’ve killed her.” Everyone knew that story, and he tore his intense eyes off me to stare at the dash. “I sympathize with your need to find who is doing this, Reece. Now, it’s a faint, cloudy memory compared to what came after, but I didn’t handle myself very well at the time. I don’t begrudge you, but I do want to warn you that these things have a habit of coming back to bite you in the ass.”
“Uh. . . I’ve. . . I’ve killed a lot of people under contract, Mr. Santino, but I’ve never had someone close to me be requested. It is strange, yeah. Did— did you come here just to have this conversation with me?” It could’ve been a phone call. A beeper page, for fuck’s sake. But no— Carlyle Santino was in my car, having tracked me down, for seemingly no reason other than to tell me not to screw up.
“Partly, yes. I have a meeting with Vanessa today, and I haven’t actually met Delilah yet. I thought it’d be prudent to establish something with her before I try to interrogate her. To be honest, I didn’t have to intervene on Willians’s behalf. He could’ve simply closed up shop, and I would’ve been happy with the outcome and allowed him to stay in the States. He’s handing over his black book, but it doesn’t have any information in it that I don’t already know. The issue then becomes. . . can I get these people to do business with my brother on my behalf, or will I have to contract in Darren to make transactions?” Carlyle didn’t expect me to answer him, and I couldn’t, anyway. I didn’t know jack shit about the arms trade— or any trade outside my own. “You were fortunate to be fielded this job, Reece. Chances are I’ll be keeping Delilah up north until Darren arrives, which will free you up completely. Making her sleep on your sofa was an amusing concept.”
“Darren didn’t provide any instructions, and I’m not obligated to go out of my way for her comfort. My job is to keep her alive, not make her happy. . . although, from what I know, he doesn’t do even that much. All she does is bitch about him being paranoid and Ivano Makovich can’t get her here, and blah— blah— blah.” I couldn’t help myself rolling my eyes in annoyance, and Carlyle actually chuckled lowly in bemusement. “So, I need permission to take appropriate action once I find out who’s trying to kill Riley.”
“I take it that you’re running out of people to investigate.” His wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway, and he reached to scratch his stubbled jaw. “I’d expect it to be a similar process to any other kind of investigation. Her parents and significant other would be the top suspects, no? And considering you can rule yourself out. . .”
“She knows. I’ve hinted at meeting her parents, of course, but I don’t know if she’ll bite. Even if she doesn’t, killing them will be an entirely different issue all together. There’s no way she wouldn’t have some doubt, and I don’t want to lie to her. Until I know more, I’m not entertaining the idea of contracting someone else, either. Riley has given up on her mother, and I don’t blame her. . .”
“I remember when you were just some long-limbed hick from some place with no name. You hated your life, so you ran away.” My brows twitched at the reminder of events over a decade ago, and Carlyle stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You’re one of my longest-running employees. I suppose some appreciation is in order.”
So cringy. Carlyle Santino spoke like a nervous 8th grader making a speech for perfect attendance sans stuttering and wonky pitch, but that was literally how he always talked. Pursing my lips thinly, I turned my gaze to the wheel and inhaled deeply.
“Thank you, but I honestly can’t see myself doing any other job.” Killing people— extorting people— kidnapping or rescuing— it was so commonplace, now, but even when I started 7 years ago. . . “Maybe, I do this job because I can’t kill the people I really want to kill.”
“I know the feeling. Doing it didn’t help me, but I didn’t have as much reason. In the end, Valerie was just hurt by someone else. But. . . that’s what makes it good business— most people don’t realize that getting rid of one problem just allows another to fill the gap.”
“The sister just up and skipped out, right? That must’ve sucked.” All I knew about it were rumors, but I honestly didn’t care about Carlyle’s wife’s relationship with her twin. I’d never even met either woman— just suffered through Vanessa’s gossip mongering. “Are you worried about Makovich?”
“No, of course not. I got what I needed from him. The reason I went through with those meetings was the same as him— I wanted to send Willians a message. Owning his girlfriend apparently wasn’t enough to get him on my side. Once I have his book and a solid plan going forward, I couldn’t care less about him or what they do. From what chatter I’ve received, Willians has already dodged two assassination attempts in the last month, and they were both connected to Ivano.” Surprise rose my brows, and Carlyle shot me a ‘duh’ look from across the center console. “A man doesn’t spend unnecessary amounts of money unless he thinks it’s worth it.”
“That’s such a lie.” Blurting out the retort before I could stop myself, I sniffed a little as I sat back and gripped the wheel with both my hands. The silence that settled was surprisingly less uncomfortable than I expected, considering the circumstances, and I frowned under tightly knit brows. “You’ve been married two years, right? Did anything change?”
“Valerie wanted a wedding— or, I should say she wanted an excuse to patch things up with her sister, so I gave her one. It went well, but all things end someway. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that being married in itself changed things.” Out of my peripheral vision, Carlyle fiddled with the band on his finger, a warmth softening his features. “You’ve never been one to drag your feet, Reece. It’s what’s made you so good at being a handyman. You know a good amount of a lot of things, and I imagine that any woman would be swept away by it. . . but you should always keep in mind that nothing is linear. If you don’t act on this job, either by te
lling Riley and having her play along, or moving your ass into gear to find out who’s behind it, it won’t just go away. I know you’re not trying because you’re afraid of the answers you’ll uncover— you’re afraid of what Riley will find out— but not telling her will only hurt you in the end.”
“. . . Is that why she kicked you out over the holidays? She found out something you tried to keep from her?” Speaking up cautiously, I pursed my lips when Carlyle nodded firmly. I mean, who the fuck goes to Carl’s parent’s house for Thanksgiving, uninvited, knowing Joci and her boyfriend were there? The only logical thing was that Valerie stuck his ass in the doghouse, and he had nowhere to go, so he thought ‘might as well’.
And, in the end, it worked out for him. Joci spilled her guts about everything she knew. Nothing she said came as a surprise to Carlyle, but it did solidify his stance to step back and let Makovich destroy themselves.
“I would argue that it’s the same situation, just in reverse. She found out after many, many years that her father was alive, and both her sister and I knew and kept it from her. He showed up in my hometown upstate— said he’d run into Natasha and wanted to talk to Valerie. He committed suicide a few days later. The point is that if you’re hesitating to spare Riley some heartache, it won’t work. All lies unravel eventually.” That’s super ominous. But what could I say? Sorry? It all worked out in the end? I didn’t even know why Carlyle was in my car in the first place, but this conversation had more angles than the local gay bar. Jesus.
“How do you fucking do that, huh? How do you know so much about every single little detail of everyone’s lives? How do you somehow manage to weaponize every word that comes out of your mouth? You know, Carlyle— I’ve known you for a long, long time, but I never really understand you, and I don’t know what the fuck is going on right now.” Reaching to rub my face roughly, I closed my eyes and rolled my jaw hard to pop the joints. Carlyle’s laugh filled my car, and he tapped his knee when I glanced over through my fingers.