Where Loyalties Lie: A Standalone Romantic Suspense

by Jill Ramsower

  “Emily!” Two strong hands gripped my shoulders and shook me firmly.

  I drifted back to the present and realized Tamir had been speaking to me, but I’d been so entirely lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t heard a word he’d said. I peered up at his face, searching his features for answers he couldn’t give me.

  “He’s going to wake up any minute. If we aren’t calling the police, then we need to leave. Let me walk you back to your apartment.”

  I shook my head frantically. “No, I can’t go back. It’s not safe there. You don’t understand.”

  His hands lifted from my shoulders to my cheeks, holding me in place. His forehead creased with confusion, making me panic even more.

  “Calm down,” he soothed gently. “We don’t have to go to your place, but I’m not leaving you here. We can go to my place. You can explain to me what’s going on, and we’ll figure out what to do from there once you’re thinking more clearly. Okay?” His hands didn’t leave my face until I managed a hesitant nod.

  He took one of my hands in his and pulled me toward the street, allowing me to grab my gym bag from where it had fallen when I was first attacked. His hand seared me with its heat, and I clung to it as if he were the lifeline I desperately needed.

  I hadn’t been far from the studio, so we made it back within minutes. He took me to the tenant entrance beside the studio, and we climbed the stairs to the second floor. An eerie fog blanketed my mind on the way over. I felt numb and distant. As if my life was no longer recognizable.

  Stepping inside the warmth of his apartment helped marginally. The place was spacious but comfortable, not too different from my own home, except Tamir had clearly been living in his apartment far longer than I’d been in mine.

  “Why don’t you have a seat. I’ll make you some tea.” He motioned toward a gray upholstered sofa as he turned toward the open kitchen.

  I kept my jacket on, tugging it tightly around me, and sat on the far end of the couch with my bag clutched against my chest. The adrenaline waned from my system, making my body shiver and shake uncontrollably as I peered blankly at my surroundings.

  How had my life devolved so drastically in a matter of minutes? What was I going to do?

  “Here, eat these. They’ll help elevate your blood sugar and ease the shaking.” Tamir handed me a napkin stacked with several shortbread cookies and placed a glass of water on the coffee table. He lowered himself into a chair opposite me. His stare bored into me, but I couldn’t meet his gaze.

  “You eat cookies?” I asked. “It seems entirely too normal for you.” It was the first thing that popped into my addled brain.

  “I am human, Emily.”

  “Could have fooled me,” I muttered. “I figured you’d be one of those ‘my body is a temple’ kind of people who lives on spinach and kale.” I nibbled on the buttery goodness, the first bites of sugar instantly calming my nerves.

  After long seconds of silence, I finally glanced in his direction.

  “Are we really going to talk about my dietary habits right now?”

  “Look, I don’t know what you want me to say. I just got mugged. I’m a little freaked out.”

  He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and steepling his hands together. “Mugged? Back in that alley, you told me your apartment was no longer safe and you couldn’t go back. What does that have to do with a random mugging?”

  I couldn’t help the defeated sigh that escaped my lungs. “It’s not exactly random,” I admitted softly. I didn’t want him involved in my problems, but I could hardly avoid it now. He’d beaten a man unconscious for me and then hadn’t called the police when I asked him not to. He deserved some kind of explanation. “My ex-boyfriend is crazy, but I didn’t realize how bad it was until it was too late. The first chance I got, I left him in the night and ran, riding buses across the country until I ended up here.”

  “That man in the alley was your ex-boyfriend?”

  I shook my head. “I think he hired someone to either kill me or take me back to him. I don’t know how he did it, but he found me, and now, the city isn’t safe for me.”

  It was foolish of me to have expected anything less than cool detachment from Tamir. Surprise, concern, outrage—those were human emotions. Tamir was Terminator-grade machine.

  “Why won’t you call the police?” he asked.

  “They can’t keep me safe from him! They’ll slap a restraining order on him, and meanwhile, I’m facedown in a gutter. No thanks. I got away once, so I can do it again. I have a friend in town who can help me disappear. At some point, either my ex won’t be able to find me, or he’ll finally give up trying.” The cookies had helped balance my system, but it was anger that brought back my determination and clarity.

  Tamir examined me, breaking me down, piece by piece, and analyzing his findings. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt so scrutinized in my life. Was he judging me? Condemning me? I had no clue what was going on in that cryptic head of his. The only thing to do was wait wordlessly in the heavy silence for his conclusion.

  “Very well. You can stay here tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll work on a plan.” He held my gaze, refusing to let me go, even when the tea kettle began to shriek on the stove. When he finally severed our connection and rose, my body sagged with a bone-weary relief.

  I had passed whatever test he’d been conducting and was spared further interrogation, at least for the time being.

  Chapter 6

  Tamir

  During my ten years in the Special Forces, I received rigorous interrogation training and had participated in my own examinations that would turn the bravest of men a sickly shade of white. There were infinite ways to get a man to talk, but none of it mattered if you couldn’t tell what was fact and what was a lie. People would say anything to keep from being in pain.

  My lie detection instincts had been expertly honed, and I felt confident Emily’s confession was sincere. Her fear about her situation was primal, unsullied by manipulation. Did that mean everything she’d said was the truth? Not necessarily. But enough evidence existed to keep me from turning her over to collect the bounty, for now.

  I had no doubt there was still more to her story.

  It wasn’t often an ex-lover put out a bounty to bring back his woman, but that wasn’t to say it didn’t happen. I knew of a Russian Vor who had hunted his lover for years because he lived for the chase. People were fucked up, which meant predicting someone’s actions and understanding their motivations could be near impossible.

  Emily’s past was shrouded in a thick fog of mystery and deceit. I’d performed a background search on Emilia Reyes, which was the name given with her bounty. Even with her last name and knowing she’d originally resided in Texas, I couldn’t scrape anything together. Her digital footprint was minuscule. The birth certificate on file for her had no father listed and what appeared to be a fake name for her mother, which meant I couldn’t trace her via her family. She had purportedly earned an associate degree in finance and had a driver’s license but was, otherwise, remarkably absent from the system. No debt or hospital records. No voter’s registration or bills in her name. Not even a single social media account could be found. She was a ghost, and in my experience, ghosts had secrets.

  Perhaps her secrets were unrelated to the bounty on her head, but either way, I would need more time to ferret out the full truth. I needed those answers to decide what I would do with her. I did have some semblance of a moral code. It was my own fucked-up version but a code, nonetheless. Stealing the last breaths from my victims was easy, but only after I was certain they were unworthy of life.

  I wasn’t just talking about petty criminals. The men, and sometimes women, who became my targets were depraved stains on humanity like serial murderers, rapists, child molesters, and some far more creative examples of the criminally insane. My intent was never to seek out these people in a vigilante fashion, but when a contract came before me, that was my primary requirement to take the job.

/>   Some might ask who I was to play judge and jury about another man’s worth.

  I would say fuck off. No one asked you.

  My employers’ reasons for wanting someone dead might not have been remotely honorable, but I didn’t care. I was only concerned with my role in a job. If I declined a job because the target didn’t meet my requirements, and the client went elsewhere, that wasn’t my problem. I simply had standards by which I worked. Would the mesmerizing Ms. Reyes tick off those checkboxes?

  We would find out soon enough.

  As I watched her sip her tea, I had to admit that “mesmerizing” had been an apt descriptor. Not only because of the intriguing mystery of her situation, but because of her alluring beauty as well. She was some concoction of Hispanic, but there was no telling what exact origin. The slight uptick of her eyes and prominent cheekbones hinted at a Native American ancestry. She had a regal air, even when she was covered in sweat at the gym or fighting for her life in a dark alley. If she was being hunted just for her unique beauty, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

  “Tell me about this man who’s after you.”

  “What do you want to know?” She sipped from her tea, her shaking reduced to a slight tremble of her fingers.

  “How long were you together?”

  “Long enough to figure out he wasn’t a good man.”

  “Is he a criminal?” The question was somewhat rhetorical as he had to have criminal connections in order to put a bounty on her head. I was more curious how extensive her knowledge was about his activities.

  She shrugged. “There’s no telling what all he’s into, but it wasn’t something we talked about. Why are you asking me about him? The degree of my past screwups doesn’t help me figure out a way out of this situation.” The teacup clanked against its saucer when she forcefully set it down.

  I’d struck a nerve.

  “Just trying to figure out the full picture, but we don’t have to talk about it if it bothers you. I haven’t had dinner and am starved. Would you like something to eat?”

  “I haven’t eaten since lunch, aside from those couple of cookies, so food sounds good. Thank you.”

  “If you’d like, you’re welcome to take a shower while I cook a little something for us.” I stood to retrieve a towel but paused when Emily’s eyes met mine. They were still guarded, but the defensiveness and fear had bled away, leaving her gaze tired and tinged with a wary hopefulness.

  “Why are you doing this, Tamir? Why help me when being anywhere near me could be dangerous?”

  “First, I’m not afraid of whatever idiots this man may send after you. And second … I had a sister who ended up in trouble many years ago. She had no one there to help her, and I regret that every day of my life.”

  What I said was the truth, just not all of it. Perhaps it was more than I should have said, but something about her slipped and slithered under my skin. That, above anything else, was the one thing that was starting to worry me. Crazy ex-boyfriends and other hunters out to collect the bounty just made my normally dull days a little more colorful. The soft curves of a spirited woman who needed my help? Now that was dangerous.

  Chapter 7

  Emily

  With the exception of several watercolor paintings on the white walls, Tamir’s apartment was nearly as sterile as mine. They were active, lively paintings, depicting colorful cityscapes and marketplaces. They didn’t seem to fit my vision of what Tamir would have chosen for himself. I would have thought he was more of a photography type of man—the city skyline at night, or something equally as beautiful but understated.

  Maybe he had a decorator select them. His furniture and décor was all good quality and coordinated in a way that made the room come together. It wouldn’t have surprised me if there’d been a woman’s touch in the design. What did surprise me was how expensive it all looked. I knew why I was able to afford my apartment on my measly waitress’s wages, but he sure did surprisingly well for a self-defense instructor.

  “I’ve set a towel on the counter for you,” he said as he showed me to the bathroom. “The only drawback about this apartment is the single bathroom. I don’t have company often, so it’s rarely an issue.”

  I stepped past him in the narrow hallway, my body wanting to gravitate toward his warmth. “This is gorgeous. Did you remodel recently?” The glass stall shower was tiled with white marble, as was the entire floor and countertop. The fixtures were crisp and elegant without being too feminine. The overall look was stunning.

  “About a year ago. I like to keep busy and learn new things, and the prior setup hadn’t been touched since the eighties.”

  “You did it yourself?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. It’s not all that hard, if you have the time.”

  “Sure,” I scoffed. “Loads of people can renovate an entire bathroom by themselves.”

  He leaned his shoulder against the wall and crossed his arms, making his biceps stretch the fabric of his T-shirt. “Maybe they’re just too scared to try.”

  I leaned against the doorframe and pressed my hand against the opposite side of the frame. “Maybe they just don’t have any clue what they’re doing.”

  “Maybe they should check out YouTube. You can learn anything on YouTube.” He lifted a wry brow, and it was too much. I coughed out a chuckle and shook my head.

  “All right, you win.” I started to close the door but paused, my eyes flashing briefly to his. “Thank you, Tamir. I’m not sure what I would have done without you tonight.”

  He gave me a silent nod. “Try not to worry too much. You’re safe here, and we’ll sort out a plan soon enough.” He slipped away toward the kitchen, and I locked myself in the bathroom, having a moment alone for the first time since being attacked.

  I set down my gym bag on the counter and took in my reflection in the large mirror. My hair was in disarray, half-fallen out of its ponytail from class, and my cheek had a small scrape from being pressed against the brick wall. Other than that, I didn’t look all that bad. My outer appearance wasn’t at all reflective of the turmoil going on inside.

  I was so scared that it was all I could do not to break down. Just the thought brought the sting of tears to my eyes.

  That’s not going to help, Em, so cut it out.

  I grabbed my phone and the spare set of workout clothes I had in my gym bag and set them on the counter. When I’d gone home from work to change, I hadn’t used the clothes in my bag. Thank God for small miracles.

  The sound of the water turning on was soothing. Like the falling rain, the gentle hum was cathartic and cleansing. The second it was warm enough, I stepped under the heavy spray and let it wash away the sticky memories of the attack. The heat was the perfect balm on my tense muscles, but it did nothing to ease the chaos in my mind.

  All of the implications of being attacked bombarded me with varying degrees of intensity.

  I was going to have to walk out on my job and the shelter without a single explanation or warning. It made me feel horribly guilty, and I hated for Olivia and the women at the shelter to worry. They were good people, but I had no choice. I didn’t think I could even go back to my apartment.

  Leaving Mrs. Timmons was the worst part of all. She would be heartbroken for me. She didn’t deserve that after being nothing but thoughtful and kind to me.

  It was all my fault. That was what happened when you associated with the wrong people. Their toxic influence spread and infected everything you touched, tainting the best parts of your life, even after you’d walked away.

  It reinforced that I’d done the right thing, but the fallout still sucked. At least I was alive, and I would continue to fight until that wasn’t the case.

  I talked a big game, but there was one main reason I wasn’t totally freaking out, and her name was Stephanie. As soon as I was out of the shower, I was going to text her. She would know what to do and be able to help me.

  With Stephanie’s assistance, I wouldn’t have to rely on Tamir any
further, which was important because I didn’t want to drag him into my problems. Despite my adamant insistence that Tamir was dangerous, and therefore, bad for me, he had been the one to save my life. I was willing to admit I might have misjudged him. Who was I to repay his kindness by making him a target right along with me?

  I stepped out of the shower and dried off only after I’d threatened to exhaust the entire building’s supply of hot water. When the steam production stopped, delicious wafts of air slipped in from beneath the door. Tamir was cooking, and I was suddenly ravenous. I threw on my clothes and did my best to finger-comb my hair into behaving. A small sliver along the edge of the mirror had begun to defog, which I used to give myself a once-over and noticed the angry red scrape on my cheek.

  Glancing at the door, I debated going out to ask Tamir for antibiotic ointment. It would have been the polite thing to do, rather than snoop through his drawers. Polite and not at all helpful. I wanted to learn more about the unusual man who had taken me in, and snooping was a great place to start. I might not have been evil, like some people, but I also never claimed to be perfect.

  The only storage in the bathroom was a series of three drawers and the cabinet under the sink beneath the marble vanity. The top drawer contained a beard trimmer and fingernail clippers, along with a comb and an assortment of men’s toiletries. The other two drawers had Q-tips, cotton balls, and other crap that wasn’t remotely helpful on either front.

  Squatting down, I opened the cabinet beneath the sink and found several rolls of toilet paper, as one might expect, along with cleaning supplies and a plunger. Nothing sordid and no first-aid kit. I sighed and started to stand when a glint of silver at the top of the cabinet caught my eye. I ducked my head to get a better view and discovered a small gun in a holster attached to the top of the inside of the cabinet. The sink was one of those fake bowls that sat on the counter, rather than being sunken into the vanity. It gave just enough room to attach the holster to the flat marble above.