Secrets (Lords of the City)

by Alice Ward

  Knowing there wasn’t likely to be anything else about Cristiano to be found outside of the folder, I stuffed the papers back into the filing cabinet. It creaked as I edged it shut. I paused again before crossing the hallway, giving myself a moment to read the house, and then darted for the kitchen window. The mission completed, I hit the grass and went running, slipping into the night with even more questions than I’d gone in with.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  e

  The next morning, I lay in the guest room staring at the ceiling. My laptop sat on the bed next to me, warm from hours of use. It was the first night I slept in the guest room, supposing you could call drifting in and out of a light doze every twenty minutes sleeping. Each time I closed my eyes, everything I learned pummeled me, coming at me like a hurricane from all four sides.

  Finding out the details of Cristiano’s past was easier than I thought it would be. Really, I was surprised I didn’t put it all together sooner. All it took was breaking into a filing cabinet and some lengthy digging on the internet. What I’d unearthed made a lot of sense, given the information a young Cristiano provided at the orphanage.

  And if what I suspected was true… Cristiano’s real name was Aydan Erul, and he’d been born the son of a Cyprus politician. The date Aydan’s father was assassinated by unknown terrorists fell two months before the date Cristiano got dropped off at Hampton Road. According to articles from that year, Andreas Erul’s wife and four-year-old son disappeared two days after his murder. Add this to Cristiano’s testimony about living on a big island and having to sneak away in the middle of the night, and it all just made too much sense for me to ignore.

  I rubbed my tired eyes and sat up. At the corner of the bed, my cell phone glimmered in the morning sun, daring me to lift it up and make the call.

  I picked up the phone and slowly scrolled through my contacts. Before hitting the call button, I hesitated… then dropped the phone.

  “No,” I said out loud.

  There was a list of things I needed to do and in a particular order. First I needed to tell Cristiano what I’d discovered, and I needed to do it in person. Then I needed to lure whoever was following me in.

  The second part of my plan made me gulp, but I knew I had to do it. Knowing I was being followed made me terrified but realizing Cristiano might be the real target made me furious. It felt more personal in a way, to have someone I had come to care for so passionately and desperately targeted than to have myself targeted.

  I didn’t know much about Mediterranean politics, but I knew how the whole power game went. If Cristiano really was Aydan Erul, then there could still be people out there looking for him. People who wanted to use him for their own political means. One of the easiest things to put together on Google was the Erul family tree. There were several known branches of it, including a few wealthy members living in and around Cyprus and Turkey. Certainly, such a family held some kind of political and social sway. The list of reasons people might want Cristiano went on and on.

  I ran my hands up through my hair line and sighed. What I didn’t get was why the mystery stalker hadn’t yet made some kind of move. And why were they following me?

  A noise sounded near the front of the apartment. My head whipped in the direction of the front door, and I sat up straighter.

  “Blaire?” came Cristiano’s voice.

  My shoulders relaxed. Of course, it was Cristiano. I’d been keeping the door locked, and the noises coming from it weren’t those of someone attempting to break a deadbolt. I was just on pins and needles, not only shaken from everything happening but sleep deprived as well.

  “I’m in here,” I called, getting off the bed.

  We met in the living room. There were slight bags under Cristiano’s eyes, but everything else about him looked as good as it always did. He set his briefcase down against the side of a couch and came towards me.

  “Hi.” His husky tones wafted over me, wrapping me up and pulling me close two seconds before his arms did.

  “Hi,” I whispered back.

  He stepped back to look at me. “You look…”

  “Tired, I know. You can say it.”

  “You haven’t been sleeping well?”

  I avoided his eyes. “Not, uh, not last night… no.”

  His face became steely. “Did you see that car again?”

  “No, but some other things have happened. And I have a feeling the craziness isn’t over with.”

  Cristiano cocked his head. “Blaire? What are you talking about?”

  “Can we sit down?” I asked, half because it seemed like the appropriate thing to do when dropping some heavy news, and half because I felt exhausted.

  Cristiano put his hand on my arm and led me over to the couch, where we sat down and angled our bodies towards each other.

  I took a long inhale. “I don’t know quite how to start this story… but here goes. I found out some information about your past, and I’m wondering if maybe the man following me is connected to it all.”

  “Okay,” he slowly said.

  “At the orphanage, there are some notes… in your file. Things you said… clues you provided about your life before you came to the orphanage.”

  “You saw my file?”

  “Yes,” I answered, steeling myself for rage. He didn’t show any though. Instead, he just looked passive and slightly confused.

  “I’ve never heard anything about this.”

  “You’ve seen your file?”

  He hesitated. “No… no, I haven’t. But I’ve asked Teresa a thousand times to tell me anything she knew.”

  My chest burned. So this was why Teresa seemed closed off in the kitchen.

  “Maybe she wanted to protect you,” I whispered.

  Cristiano scoffed. “Protect me from what?”

  My throat seemed to be closing up, but I continued anyway. “From the same thing I found out. If I was able to connect the dots so easily, she might have done the same thing.”

  “Found out what?”

  “About who you are.” I shifted my weight forward and took his hands in mine. “Cristiano, I think you were born in Cyprus, and you were the son of a politician there, Andreas Erul. The clues and the dates match up. He was… he was assassinated, and then his wife and son vanished. I think that was you.”

  Cristiano stared at me, his expression blank. A few seconds ticked by. When he didn’t speak, a shiver ran down the length of my back.

  “Blaire,” he finally said, his voice heavy. He tucked his chin and looked directly into my eyes. “I can tell you haven’t been sleeping well, and you’re still recovering from what happened—”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  He licked his lips. “Um…”

  I pursed my lips in exasperation, frustration rippling through me. “It’s true!”

  Don’t shout, I reminded myself. If you get too emotional, it’ll just make it easier for him to write you off.

  “Blaire.”

  I took a shaky breath. I could feel my chin quivering, but I kept the tears back, determined to stay strong and get through to him. “They’re coming for you. Whoever these people are, I think they’re coming for you.”

  He sat up straighter, his whole body taking on a defensive air. “Then how come no one has been following me?”

  “Maybe they have been, but you just haven’t noticed.”

  His eyes squinted slightly. “There are security cameras all around this building, inside and out. The staff here is some of the best in the city. Someone would have noticed if anyone was sneaking around.”

  I shook my head. “This city is big.”

  He sighed, just as exhausted with the whole conversation as me.

  “Cristiano,” I said. “You really don’t believe me, do you? You don’t think you came from Cyprus?”

  His lips parted, but he didn’t say anything.

  “It’s not that far-fetched,” I argued.

  “It kind of is, actually.”

/>   Anger burst in me, a hot, feverish bubble. I stood up. “This is your life! I thought you cared about finding your mother. I thought you wanted to know where you were from.”

  “I do,” he responded, his tone taking on its own cutting edge. “But this hardly sounds like—”

  “I can’t believe this!” I interrupted, grabbing the roots of my hair in frustration.

  He rested his hands on my shoulders. I almost shrugged them off, but I stopped. Enough of the world was against us. I couldn’t drive a wedge between me and the man I was trying to protect.

  “Cristiano,” I whispered, “Please be careful. Isn’t there something you can do? A bodyguard you can get or something?”

  The corners of his mouth lifted the tiniest bit. “Would that make you feel better?”

  “Yes,” I said, half sure that if anyone wanted him dead, no bodyguard could stop that from happening. But at least his chances of getting kidnapped would be lessened.

  A sadness rested on his face. He thinks I’m going crazy, I realized. Or maybe he thinks this is just my normal state, and I’ve been doing a good job of hiding it the last couple weeks.

  “I can prove it to you,” I blurted out.

  I bit down on my tongue, knowing I’d made a mistake. I was acting rashly, saying things I shouldn’t be.

  His dark lashes fluttered. “What?”

  I gulped. “I mean, we could find out… somehow.”

  Cristiano stared at me for a long, hard time, and I felt it. The first moment where he really questioned who I was, how honest I was.

  I’d always known that moment would come, but feeling it right then, having it punch me in the gut, sucked hardcore.

  I searched for an escape. “I, um… I have plans with Evie. I should be going.”

  A bit of life came back to his features. “Are you sure? You look so tired.”

  “I’ll take a nap when I get back. Or when I go home later.”

  “You don’t need to go home, Blaire. I still think it’s best if you stay here. At least until the security system gets installed in your place.”

  I hadn’t meant to suggest I was leaving for good. “Thanks,” I nodded. “I’ll be back soon.”

  I wrapped my arms around him and pushed my face into the top of his chest. One of his hands rested on the top of my head, and the other pushed between my shoulder blades. So fast. It had all happened so fast. One day he was just some enigmatic and chivalrous man that piqued my interest… and the next day he was my everything.

  I couldn’t lose him. I wouldn’t lose him. And I would do whatever it took to protect him.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  e

  I shifted on my couch, the Glock 19 pressing more firmly at my side. So much time had passed since I carried a gun that the experience was almost surreal. I really thought those days were over. When I left the army, I started reinventing myself into a person who was the complete opposite of the woman who had spent her entire adult life in a world of war and precise caution. I never planned to pick back up anything those years gave me. Granted, I never wanted to take those years back either, never wanted to change anything. But I wanted to be a new Blaire Daniels, a girl who wore vintage clothes, shopped at flea markets on the weekends, and brunched with her besties on Sundays.

  And now here I was. A weird hybrid of the two Blaires.

  The gun came easy enough. Though I didn’t want it, I knew I needed it. You couldn’t go hunting without one. Not unless you intended on becoming the prey yourself. Giving it to me meant Seth was sticking his neck out big time, but I was better than my word. Not in a million years would I let anyone know I got it from him, and that was something we could both count on.

  Evie came into the room, her hair piled up underneath a baseball cap. She’d pulled it low enough that you could only see a hint of the dark hair peeking out at the base of her neck. I’d made an attempt at disguising my own identity by winding my own hair in a tight bun then wrapping a scarf around it all. Big black sunglasses would complete the look, making me both Jackie O and an undercover James Bond.

  Evie spread her hands wide, a gesture that asked for me to critique her. “So? Do I look like you?”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Her hands fell. “Blaire… yes.”

  “It might be dangerous. Scratch that. I know it’s going to be dangerous.”

  One of her hands came back up to rest on a cocked hip. “I got that.”

  I opened up the side of the flannel shirt pulled over my tank top and flashed the gun at her. Her eyes went wide. “Oh,” she breathed. “Wow.”

  She looked at me with new hesitation. “You’re planning on it getting… that crazy?”

  “No,” I amended. “But better safe than sorry. It’s mostly just to make a statement, to say I can’t be pushed around.”

  She shook her head and whistled. “If only Basic Derek could see you now.”

  The slightest chortle escaped me, my first semblance of a laugh in days. “Yeah, well, everyone has secret parts to them. And Derek didn’t know me… before…” I trailed off, not even really knowing what I meant by before.

  Evie rubbed her hands together. “I really do want to do this. I want to help you… to help your hunky Greek God.”

  “Cyprus. He was born in Cyprus.”

  “I’m pretty sure ancient Greece covered that area.”

  “I have no idea.” I stood, too nervous for small talk. “Should we go over the plan again?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’ve got it. It’s pretty basic. Even more basic than your ex-boyfriend.” She grinned slightly, but I couldn’t join her.

  “Anytime you want out,” I told her. “Tell me and you’re out.”

  All the fun fell from her face. Her dark eyes pierced mine. “That’s not going to happen.”

  “All right. Let’s go then.”

  We took the elevator down to the parking garage, where Evie climbed into my car and I into hers. I pulled my phone out of my purse and hooked it up to her stereo so we could talk while we drove.

  “Testing, testing,” came her voice through the speakers.

  “You ready?”

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  “Okay, just drive like you’re going to the flea market. That’s far enough away. If someone follows you, I’ll know by the time you’re halfway there.”

  “Should I actually go into the flea market?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I answered, realizing there was a small flaw in my plan. “We’ll see. You probably shouldn’t get out of the car at all. Just stay on the line.”

  “Got it.”

  She backed my car up and headed for the exit. I followed, my heartbeat growing louder with each foot we gained towards the street. Evie took a right, and I waited a minute, letting a couple cars get in front of me. I followed her down the block, slightly tailgating the Jeep in front of me. I couldn’t get too close to Evie and my car, but I also couldn’t get too far away.

  “See anything yet?” she asked over the line.

  “No. It’s too early to tell.”

  The Jeep turned off, leaving a silver Honda between me and Evie. Traffic got congested at a construction site and a beat up red car pulled in front of the silver one. I glanced in my mirror, seeing if any of the cars behind me were there when we left the parking garage.

  After a few more miles, the only car still a constant, other than mine and Evie’s, was the silver Honda. One look at its dark windows and a chill went through me.

  “I think we have it,” I told Evie. “Don’t look in your mirror, but there’s a silver Honda that’s been behind you this whole drive. Take a right up here, to get off the main road, then we’ll know for sure.”

  Evie did as instructed. The Honda hooked a quick right to follow, making a lump form in my throat. I was already reading the license plate, running it over and over in my head. Fumbling, I reached for the pen in the little holder underneath the dashboard and scrawled the license
plate number on my arm as I drove.

  The plate numbers gotten, I tried to tell myself that everything was going to be all right. I could go to the police, present the license plate number, and tell them I was being followed.

  But then what? It wasn’t like I had any real evidence. Maybe a security camera from some business had caught the black SUV doing that crazy turnaround on the sidewalk, but that wouldn’t be enough. I didn’t have enough evidence to connect that incident with my report of being followed. I knew how something like this was likely to go down. The police would probably give me all the usual advice, telling me to lock my doors and windows, and report back to them if any more suspicious activity occurred. But what else could they do? They could run the plates, yes. And then what? Question whoever owned the car?

  I audibly huffed. Would the Chicago PD even go to that length? In a sea of real crimes to worry about, I knew how petty my complaint of being followed might look.

  “What?” Evie asked.

  “Huh?”

  “You made a noise or something.”

  “I just… I got the license plate.”

  “Great!”

  “I’m going to go home and run it myself on the internet.”

  “But you can go to the police.”

  “Maybe,” I slowly said, not sure how to concisely explain everything that just ran through my head.

  “Uh oh.”

  My heart jumped. “What?”

  “Something’s up with your car. It’s getting overheated or something.”

  I stared at my car. “What?”

  “Yeah, the gauge is going up, like, really fast.”

  “Shit.”

  “When was the last time you checked the coolant?”

  I shook my head. “God, I don’t know… I’ve been so distracted. Shit, shit, shit.”

  “I think I have to pull over, Blaire. Your car is going to explode or something if I don’t.”

  “Okay. Hold on.” My eyes darted up and down the street, looking for some sort of answer to the sudden catastrophe. Up ahead on a corner sat a small bank building, its parking lot half empty.

  “Pull into that parking lot on the right,” I instructed Evie.