by M. Leighton
No one argues, of course. In fact, Gavin looks a little sheepish the he’s been so rude. It was really thoughtless on all our parts to keep her in this position. Leave it to Olivia to be so cool, so composed while surrounded by people and having tough conversations, all while she’s wrapped in bed clothes. Underneath all that lush beauty, she’s got a backbone of steel. I hope, after today, she comes to realize that.
“Thank you for that,” she says when Gavin closes the door behind the exiting trio.
“I’m sorry for not doing it sooner.”
“Well, it’s not like there was a good time. It was like a circus in here! All we lacked was a bearded lady and a sword swallower, although Ginger might be able to swallow something nearly that big.”
She giggles and the sound makes me want to hug her. I don’t know why really, but it does.
“Well, as the ring leader of this most recent circus surrounding your life, I apologize for failing you.”
A soft look falls down over Olivia’s features. Her green eyes are piercing, like a sweet hurt, as they watch me. Her gaze never leaving mine, she lets the cover fall from her breasts and she slides off the edge of the bed, walking slowly toward me, naked as the day she was born. Only a thousand times more beautiful.
She stops when the tips of her nipples are brushing my chest. “You haven’t failed me. You’ve breathed so much life into my existence. Don’t ever be sorry for that.”
“But I—”
“Shhh,” she says, placing a finger over my mouth. She’s fond of doing that. “Don’t. Please.”
I nod and work to control my body’s reaction to her close proximity. I need to learn to tolerate being around her, learn to think of things other than tearing off her clothes with my teeth and sinking into her like a soft, wet bed of rose petals.
I clear my throat and focus on the reason I came to her to begin with. “The call I got a few minutes ago…”
Her expression turns serious, concerned. “Yeah. What was that all about?”
“It was about the second ad I placed. I need to meet with him tonight. But the thing is, I’m not comfortable leaving you. At all, really, but I know it’s not a good idea to take you with me, so I don’t have much choice.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she says sweetly. “I’ll be fine.”
“Of course I’ll worry about you. But I think I’ve figured out a way to ensure your safety. If you’re agreeable to it, that is.”
“What is it?”
She looks suspicious, which I think is kind of funny.
“It doesn’t involve you being locked in a room anywhere, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The look on her face tells me that’s exactly what she was thinking. “In fact, this is something you’ve done before.”
“Which is…” she prompts when I don’t finish.
“How about working a shift tonight? I think behind a bar with hundreds of people watching you is just about the safest place I could keep you.”
“That’s fine. Why didn’t you just say so? You had me worried.”
“Because I don’t want you to think I’m an insensitive asshole. You’ve had a shitty day. A really shitty day and—”
“Not all of it’s been shitty,” she says, looking up at me from beneath her thick lashes. Takes me right back to having to work to think of things other than her riding me like a prize stallion.
“Well, bad enough. Let’s just put it that way. Anyway, asking you to work sounds like something a selfish bastard would do and I don’t want you to think—”
“You’re not a selfish bastard. Didn’t you hear a word I said to my mother?”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts. Cash, I love you.”
Like the dumb ass that I am, a fact that I blame solely on my possession of testicles, I freeze. I say nothing. I don’t tell her all the things I’m feeling. I don’t say all the things that need saying. I just look at her. Like an asshole.
I can see the disappointment on her face and it kills me to watch her fight through it. But she does. She comes out on the other side, smiling and swinging, even though her heart probably feels like neither.
“Besides, I think work will be good for me. Keep my mind occupied.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive,” she says agreeably, heartache oozing through the pleasant exterior of her expression. “I’m gonna get a shower. A real one this time,” she teases, trying her damnedest to project lightheartedness. She stretches up on her toes and brushes her lips across mine. “Thank Gavin for bringing my bag.”
“Did he bring your stuff?”
“He must have. I just noticed it sitting in the corner a minute ago.”
“Hmmm. Okay, I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks,” she says with a smile before she moves around me and heads for the bathroom. Meanwhile I’m left standing in the same spot, watching her go, feeling like a steaming pile of crap.
********
“You’re not going without me,” Nash barks adamantly.
“Or me,” Gavin chimes in.
“The hell I’m not! Somebody has to stay here and keep an eye on Olivia. And it can’t be me.”
“Then it’s gonna have to be Gavin, because I’m not staying here to be grilled by some female Johnny Cochran. I’m not answering questions Marissa should be asking you,” Nash gripes.
It wasn’t easy to talk Marissa into coming back to the club at a later time. I promised she could talk to Nash all night if she wanted to, but that now just isn’t a good time. She left, albeit grudgingly. I have no doubt she’ll be back the instant the club opens. Obviously Nash thinks the same thing. Seems like he’s still a pretty perceptive guy. Having only just met her, he was able to tell that Marissa’s as tenacious as a pit bull. That’s probably one of the reasons she’s such a good attorney.
For a few seconds, I consider letting him come along. With the exception of a couple of disastrous worst-case scenarios (like this mystery guy putting a bullet in both our heads), it’s probably a good idea for him to come no matter how I slice it. Having some backup is never a bad thing.
“Fine. Nash and I will go. Gavin, you stay here and watch out for Olivia.” I can tell he doesn’t like it, but he’ll do it. He nods curtly. “Man, you know I don’t trust anyone else to protect her. And knowing what you’ve already done for her…”
That softens him up a little. All us men have our egos, after all. “I know, mate. I’ll keep her safe.”
“I hope you do a better job of it this time than last,” Nash injects snidely. Gavin gives him a smile, but it’s a chilly smile. Nash doesn’t know him well enough to know he’s treading on dangerous ground. Gavin can give a person that same smile right as he puts a gun to their head. My father used to talk about his demeanor. “Cold as ice,” he’d say of Gavin. But in every other way, I find him to be a nice guy. He’s just a nice guy that would kill you if you crossed him or his friends or family. That’s all.
“My advice, Nash,” I say, looking at him seriously. He raises his eyebrows in question. “Don’t piss him off. You really don’t want to do that.”
He nods casually as he glances sideways at the still-smiling Gavin.
“All right, so that’s the plan. Nash and I will go to the meet, you stay here with Olivia. I’ll get back as soon as I can.”
“I’ve got it covered.”
********
Nash and I decide to drive separately, just in case. It’s impossible to anticipate everything, but I can’t help but be a little suspicious of…well, everyone really. I’m trying to be realistic about the likelihood of the person I’m about to meet being a criminal. And criminals are very unpredictable. And if this one decides to pull something, having a second means of escape is wise.
Before we left, I punched the number of the guy who called into one of the burner phones I’d bought. I’m in the car so I can hear him clearly. Nash is following on my bike.
When we’ve been on the road for a
couple minutes, I dial the number.
He answers on the first ring. “Meet me at the Ronin Shipping Company’s boat yard in twenty minutes.” He hangs up. Again.
Damn, that irks the shit out of me.
I grit my teeth and suck it up, though. I don’t have much choice. I try to keep one eye on the road as I input the information into the car’s navigation. It reroutes me back toward the club and beyond, so I find the first place I can to do a U-turn. Nash is right on my heels.
Just under twenty minutes later, I’m pulling up to the gated entrance of what looks like a huge cemetery for commercial boats. I can see their enormous shapes like black ghosts in the fog.
I stare at the closed gate and tall perimeter fence, wondering how the hell we’re supposed to get inside. Before I can get out to talk to Nash, however, the gate clanks just before it slides slowly to the left.
I roll my window down. On high alert, senses reaching out for everything from sound to movement, I edge the car into the crowded lot. The fog only adds to the ominous feeling of the meet. My headlights cut through it, but still only give me visibility for a few feet in front of me. Add to that the claustrophobic sensation created by the looming ships on either side of me and it’s downright creepy.
I hit the brakes when my lights shine on a person standing in the middle of the road. He fits in perfectly with the overall setting of the night. He’s wearing an old, black rain slicker and a wharf hat, also in faded black. All he lacks is a hook for a hand. Or an army of the dead. Either way…
I stop and wait to see what he’s going to do. He waves one hand, which is thankfully a hand and not a shiny piece of curved metal, and motions me forward. I follow him. Behind me, I see the single headlight of the motorcycle. Nash is following closely.
Smart.
The cloaked figure leads us to a small shack-like structure. Maybe a place where someone would sit and communicate with crane operators or something like that. The guy turns to me and waves his hand for me to come inside. I put the car in park and cut the engine. I climb out from behind the wheel, my muscles bunched and ready to kick some ass if need be.
Nash comes up to my left. I glance at him. He looks serious and deadly. If I didn’t know him, I might think he’s intimidating. Well, no I wouldn’t. It takes a lot to intimidate me. But I can see where other people might find him disconcerting. It makes me wonder what’s happened to him that’s made him this way. He’s so different from the kid I used to know.
I guess we both are.
We approach the shack’s door. The guy walks inside and sits in the chair behind a console covered in buttons and levers. He pulls off his hat and looks right at Nash.
I recognize him instantly—ruddy complexion, puffy face, bushy brown hair and flat blue eyes. I saw him earlier today.
Like the strike of a snake, Nash has a gun in this guy’s face. And I don’t blame him one bit for putting it there. But I have to know what the hell is going on before I let Nash put a bullet in this man’s skull. I have to know why Dad would bring Duffy into this as someone to help.
I hear the soft click of the safety and realize Nash is close to losing it. “Nash, no! We need to talk to him first.”
“We don’t need anything from this guy but blood. Lots and lots of blood.” His voice is eerily calm.
“We need to know what he has that Dad thinks we need, that he thinks we can use.”
For the first time, Duffy, who doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the gun in his face, speaks. “I was a friend of your father’s.” His Russian accent is so light, it’s barely discernible. But still, I can tell it’s there. He must’ve been in the States for quite a while now.
“Then you should die for being a traitor as well as a murderer.”
“Maybe for being a murderer, but never for being a traitor. I was a friend to both your parents. A loyal friend. I knew how much Greg wanted to get out. And not for his sake. For yours. And Lizzie’s.”
Hearing him speak my mother’s name sets my teeth on edge. It’s like hearing the devil himself whisper it.
“Well, you certainly proved that when you rigged the boat with explosives and then pulled the trigger, didn’t you?”
“You weren’t supposed to be there with the supplies that early. I had no way of knowing she’d be on that boat.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have blown it up to begin with. I think that’s something more in line with what a friend would do,” Nash growls.
“Your father knew I had to do it, to keep up appearances. He knew they’d be suspicious of everyone after the books disappeared.”
“The books? It was you that got him the books?”
Duffy nods and I feel a little sick to my stomach. The more I learn about my family, about my father and his dealings, the more I want out of it all, away from it all. Away from him. And probably Nash, too.
“Ask yourself this: if your father didn’t really trust me, would he have called me, of all people, to help you?”
He has a good point, but I still don’t trust a word he says. To be honest, I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around all this shit. There are too few people to trust and far too many criminals. There are too few answers and far too many lies. Far, far, far too many lies.
“Honestly, I really don’t know. The only person I trust right now is me. So I think what you’d better do is tell us how you can help and get the hell out of here. Because I can guarantee you, the next time either of us sees you, we’ll be seeing your brains, too. All over the ground.”
Duffy nods. “Fair enough.” His docile manner actually does seem like the actions of someone who’s had to live with guilt for a lot of years. Just like Nash’s irrational, half-cocked behavior seems like the actions of someone who’s had to live with criminals for a lot of years. Criminals and an insatiable lust for revenge.
“Well then, why are you here?”
“I’m going to blackmail Anatoli, Slava’s right hand man, into getting me the books back. He’s the only one Slava really trusts.”
“And you think whatever you have on him is enough to get him to do this?”
“Yes, I do. It’s enough to get me killed, too. But I owe your father. He could’ve pointed the guilty finger at me, could’ve told them that I’m the one who took the books, but he didn’t. And, to repay him, I killed his wife. I owe him this, to take this chance.”
“I’d say you do, you lousy bastard,” Nash spits.
“But once I get you the books, you have to be prepared to move quickly. I can give you a little more help with that by providing you with some important lists that will help tie your case together, but the rest is up to you. If you blow this chance, there’s nothing I can do to help you but attend your funeral.”
“You have to know there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that we’d take your word for it, right?”
Duffy nods once. “Go see your father. Just be careful what you say. They have people everywhere. As you’ve been finding out.”
He’s right. I have. The hard way.
“Then what?”
“Then I’ll be in touch when I have the books and the lists. After that, you’ll never hear from me again.”
“I can only hope that means what I think it means,” Nash sneers.
“It means I’ll be disappearing one way or the other. This country won’t be safe for me anymore. My family…”
“Oh cry me a river. Because of you, this is all the family I have left,” Nash shouts angrily.
“Then we’ll be even. I won’t owe your family anything else.”
“You’ll always—”
“Nash,” I say to cut him off. No sense making threats until we talk to Dad. If we can use this guy and it keeps Olivia safe, I have to leave the possibility open, no matter how distasteful it is. She’s worth it. “We need to talk to Dad.”
I look at him, hoping he sees what I mean by my stare. When he takes a deep breath and clenches his teeth, I see that he does. He knows this
is how it has to be if he’s going to get his revenge.
“And you should know that I didn’t know it was your girlfriend they sent me after. I knew I was picking up a girl named Olivia Townsend and she was being used to get some books before being…disposed of. I didn’t know it was you until I saw you at the warehouse.”
Now I can sympathize with Nash a little more. I see red. Or black maybe. All I can think of is that this guy had come for Olivia. The fact that he wasn’t the one who took her, that he took Marissa instead, makes no difference. The fact of the matter is that he intended to kidnap and then kill Olivia.
“Calm down, right brother? Wait until we talk to Dad, right brother?” There’s smug sarcasm in Nash’s voice. I should’ve known he’d enjoy this. But at the moment, I could care less. I’m struggling with every ounce of self-control that I possess not to beat this man to death with my fists, to see his blood spraying all over his face and dripping down his shirt as I pound and pound and pound on him, not stopping until I feel better, until I’m no longer picturing him holding a gun to Olivia’s head.
I turn and walk out of the shack. I need air. Lots of air and lots of space. Being so close to the man that not only killed my mother, but that was contemplating doing the same thing to Olivia is just too much for me to bear without ripping someone’s throat out. I’m smart enough to know when my control is slipping, though. So getting out is my only option. I’ll leave Nash to follow me when he’s done. And at this point, if he kills the guy after I leave, then so be it. We’ll find another way.
I hope.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE- Olivia
I bet I’ve looked at the office door ten thousand times, hoping each time to see Cash’s face there. I’m on pins and needles. It’s like a sharp knife to the gut every time I think of him not returning my confession of love. But, I love him. I’m in love with him. I can’t imagine living the rest of my life knowing he died to save me. If I never get to be with him, never get to live the dream with him, never get his whole heart, it would never change the fact that I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. And just the thought of him leaving this earth, this life because of me is unbearable. Even if I can’t have him, just knowing he’s alive…and healthy…and safe…would be enough.