“Taking you is her punishment. She loves you, no?” he asks. I can’t respond. My breaths are coming too fast and I want to destroy this atrocious man for letting her name pass from his lips. Lainey is a spy with a history I was never sure of. I knew she gathered basic information about SEALs to pass on to her superiors. This man is her superior. Her life is far more secretive and dangerous than I ever would have dreamed. He hits me with an open fist. “I asked you a question, X. Answer me.”
“Yes,” I reply. I answer honestly because I’m too busy piecing the puzzle of Lainey Rosemont together in my mind. I can’t make up lies when I’m too busy reeling from the truth.
“That love is the reason she stopped reporting back to me. I need this information; you see? I sell it for a lot of money. Elena has cost me a lot of money. Her love for you, more specifically her disloyalty, makes me angry. She was my best agent. I thought about it for a long time. About what the proper punishment for something so costly should be. Take what she loves most? Yes. That’s what I needed to do. Either that or you give me the information I need. You know how I caught you so easily?” He pauses, watching my face. I’ll never talk. He knows that.
When I don’t say anything he says, “Go ahead. Ask me! Come on, I know you want to know.”
“How? How did you catch me so easily?” I humor him. It has to be blind fucking luck. I swallow, anticipating his words. My spit tastes like iron and stale air. Oh, God, Lainey how deep was she? To be working for a man like this—a man capable of orchestrating a kidnapping successfully and fuck knows what else he’s into. Drugs, sex trade—anything that makes a lot of money the illegal way. V is the type of man Navy SEALs hunt down and extinguish. He’s surely responsible for mass amounts of lives lost.
He cackles, exposing disgusting teeth again. My empty stomach flips. “With the information she gathered from you in the beginning, before she fell in love with you. Isn’t that ironic? She did this to you. I love a good romantic story gone bad.” He laughs. It’s loud and echoing and pure evil. “She’s the reason you’ll live in a cell for the rest of your days. I mean, I’ve debated whether I should send you back into the world after I’ve dismantled you beyond recognition, but in the end I think it’s better if she suffers your death,” V explains through laughs. His hands are on his fat stomach as he chuckles. I envision him dead on the ground. His fucking fat stomach is what I will shoot first, just to watch him suffer. Men like him don’t deserve a quick death.
My head is spinning. I can’t think quickly enough to form coherent questions. Lainey. Oh, God. Is she strong enough to survive this? Knowing she is responsible for this atrocity? “Kill me,” I spit out. He shakes his head, a knowing, evil look in his eye.
“Oh, I’m not going to kill you. No.” Leaning against the shitty desk, I watch as he grabs the old scissors and then approaches. Every muscle in my body tenses, readying for pain.
“How did she get messed up with you?” I ask. My voice is a quiet whisper. He hears.
He laughs again. “She never had a choice. She was born into this. That little bitch defied her heritage when she cut contact with us. Think she’s crying right now? She’ll never suspect it was me because you were on a mission with the rest of the SEALs. I mean, how well planned was this?” I’ll admit, he’s good. This will look like a normal hostage situation to the rest of the world.
I shake my head. She’s an artist. Better at her espionage than any other person I’ve met. Had I known I could have better protected myself. I could have protected her. “You’re going to help me with the rest of the master plan. Faking your death. A true death isn’t warranted, I don’t think. I enjoy your company after all.”
“I’ll never crack. I’ll never give you any information. Make it a true death.” Begging for my death isn’t part of my skill set. It’s an odd combination of relief and sheer terror.
V rubs his hands together. “I’m thinking of a beheading video. Those have gotten so much play lately, though. You’re so good with computers. What are you thinking? How shall we fake your death?” He’s so far gone in his reverie that he’s basically forgotten I’m here. “We’ll send it to Elena first. It needs to have a lot of gore. Lots of macabre.”
I swallow down my blood. It makes me wretch next to my chair. Bloody bile spills onto the cement floor. He hasn’t forgotten me completely, because when I look up he has the sharp end of the scissors pointed at my chest. My eyes widen in shock. I try to jerk away, but I can’t. He carves a fucking V on my pec with the dull blade. He leaves me passed out in the little chair in the little office when he’s finished.
I awake listening to my blood drip on the cement floor. It pools in a huge puddle. That’s how I want to kill V. I will drown him with my blood—until my life essence takes away his.
Merely remembering V and that little office chills me right to the fucking bone. That is one of the memories from my horrid past that I’ll never forget for as long as I live. I think it was the moment I truly found out who Lainey was. And I realized it didn’t matter. I love the woman regardless. It didn’t matter then, of course. I was prepared to die. Now, though, still in light of everything that has transpired between us, my love for her has only grown. It’s because I love her that I’m letting her go. I need to kill V, and she needs to move on with her life.
Molly calls my cell, but I let it go to voicemail. The ceiling in my bedroom is far more enticing right now. I don’t ponder things nearly enough. Maybe if I did I wouldn’t make such poor decisions. As I send her call to voicemail, I notice I have a new email. The lure to rid my inbox of the red number one is too strong. I click the icon and see her name. My heart starts hammering and my eyes search for her words.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Wedding
This is the last email I’ll ever send to you as a Rosemont…or a Rostov. Or to make it less complicated I will just say this is the last email you’ll receive from me as a single woman and perhaps the last email ever. I feel bad about the other night. Dax deserves better. Hell, I think he even realizes his mistake now. There’s no turning back now, though. I told him everything. Well, not quite every detail, but I couldn’t lie because honestly, it left me emotionally wrecked. He was angry, hurt, dismayed. All the things he was before when I was ‘figuring things out’. He’s been programmed to expect the worst from me and still love me. That’s how I know I’m probably making the right decision. Through thick and thin, it’s hard. Especially when I’m mostly thin, with a penchant for getting a wild hair up my ass.
That night at the club, I thought it meant more than it did at the time. I waited for you to say, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Fast Lane.” Or maybe, “Let’s take a weekend at Dances like the Wind.” I thought it was the turning point, that you finally realized we belonged together. Instead I just got a goodbye. I get it, I do. It’s just hard for me to wrap my brain around the fact that the man I’ve loved for a good portion of my life isn’t going to be the man I love for the rest of it. Granted, I can’t magic my love for you away even if I wish I could, but I can love Dax in the spaces you left. While you may see me smiling and kissing him (I’m not sure if you’re coming to the wedding), know I’m probably still thinking of you. Love takes time to forget—especially a love as thick as ours. I hope you know I’m okay—I’ll always be okay. I’m taking care of myself, if you catch my drift. In return I want you to take care of yourself. My world is better knowing you’re in it. When I walk down the aisle to him, know it could be you just as easily. You’re right, though, it would have never worked out between us. Love isn’t enough during this time. Maybe next?
The Space between your Time and his,
Lainey Rosemont (soon to be Redding)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lainey
IT’S TEN O’CLOCK at night and my house is abuzz with guests. It’s mostly my family from overseas and a few of my close friends. It’s like a florist puked in my kitch
en, and a dress shop opened up in my formal living room. I have four spare bedrooms and all of them are piled high with bitch stuff. You know the kind, shirts tossed over bed frames, makeup bags and hair tools on dressers, and seventy different kinds of perfume wafting in the hallways at any given moment. I can’t be in there with them. They’re too happy, too excited for the wedding tomorrow. I’m outside by the pool with a lowball of bourbon. It’s the expensive shit Dax left in the bar. I’ve killed almost half the bottle and I’m still lucid enough to remember what the fuck I’m doing tomorrow. The sane decision of emailing Cody for a final time was made during glass numero uno. I check my email on my cell phone again. Nothing new. This time, the last time, he’ll leave me to my life without inserting any more confusion.
I take a sip and relish the burn down my throat as I gaze to my left. My neighbors must already be asleep because all of the lights are off at their house. Their boat bobs in the water off their dock. I wonder why it’s not on the lift. It’s odd. The husband is usually meticulous about maintaining the expensive boat and he’s just left it out here to bang against the dock all night.
The raucous noise coming from behind me signals that someone said the word ‘wedding’ and has to take a shot of vodka. Oksana is creative like that. Drinking games are her specialty. I tried to tell them to tone it down. My side of the aisle will have the drunken lunatics still hung over from the night before. I shake my head, check my email one more time, and then wander across my plush lawn to the neighbors’ back yard. I pull my silk ‘bride’ robe a little tighter around my waist to cover my pajamas. My feet get wet in the grass because I’m wearing a pair of cheap flip flops to balance out the pain I’ll be in tomorrow with the sky high heels. My mom said I should cheat and wear flats under my wedding dress because no one would see them. The last thing I need is to start my marriage off with a lie, even a small one about fucking shoes. I groan. A little because wet feet suck and a little because weddings are stressful. The bourbon hits me tenfold as I consider the fact that sitting down and drinking all night was a bad idea. Standing up after is like a ride on a Ferris wheel you’re forced to endure after a bag of cotton candy.
“What are you doing over here?” a male voice asks. I turn toward the sound. Squinting in the dark, I see the outline of a man, my neighbor. I startle. He’s standing in his yard in the middle of the damn night.
Forcing a smile, I put up a hand to wave. Can he even see it? “Hi. Sorry,” I say, and then point toward his dock. “Your boat wasn’t put away properly. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.” Turning on a small light, he approaches. I get that sinking, chilly, hair prickling feeling that signals something’s not right. Fuck. I’m unprepared. Embarrassingly so. I glance behind me at my house, but everyone is still inside. I see figures dancing through the large glass windows. It looks like a movie screen from this angle. My neighbors can see into my house like in a fish tank. Chill bumps rise on my arms and legs. Why didn’t you check out the new neighbors, Lainey? Dumb move.
I take a step back toward my property line. “I’ll just head back home now that I know you’re here and will, uh…take care of it, I guess.” I take another small step and my foot slips in the wet flip flop. It also squeaks. Irritated, I blow out a small breath.
“Why are you leaving so quickly? You just got here,” a female voice chirps from behind me. I spin and come face to face with a pretty brunette. Her face triggers a memory and I realize she’s familiar. She smiles as she watches understanding cross my face. “I, I, know you,” I stutter, trying and failing to place her. I don’t have long to ponder because my other neighbor, the wife, comes from the side, her gaze focused on me in a scarily intense way. I take another step toward my property. I should scream now. Call for help or fire or tell someone to throw me a fucking gun, but they’re too close to me and my house is too far and loud. No one would hear me. My cell phone is sitting next to my glass of bourbon next to my goddamn sunning chair. I make a run for it, but the women catch me almost immediately. These fucking shoes aren’t just cheap and ugly, they are dangerous.
“What do you want from me?” I yell. They each have me by the arms and their grips are like vices. You know how in moments of importance you can put on a sober face and feel fine, when you’re actually drunk off your ass? This isn’t one of those times. My vision is whirring and my head is lighter than a kite in summer. Through the bourbon haze, my mind is flicking through images of women I know. Is this woman a client? Someone met in passing? I don’t get the friend vibe when I look at her. I must not like her for one reason or another. The darkness of night doesn’t do me any favors either. It’s hard to see her true features.
The man speaks to someone on the phone. His voice is low and measured. His conversation is quick and matter-of-fact. He snaps the old school flip phone closed. It’s a burn phone. He’s going to toss it when his job is done. My stomach sinks as I understand what exactly is happening right now. It’s not my fucking crazy neighbors trying to rob me, it’s way more sinister than that.
He clears his throat. “It’s up to you. Easy or hard.” I can fight like a cat in a mesh bag, or I can hope that my pliancy gains me a favor. I pull away from the women and they let me go.
“I’m getting married tomorrow,” I say, my voice pleading. Dax. Oh my God. I spent all of our time together trying to keep him from my past and it’s going to rear its ugly head and destroy our wedding. What can I do to fix this? How can I buy some more time? “Please,” I ask, because it’s the only thing I can think of at the moment. Please save me. Please don’t hurt Dax. Just please leave me alone.
The girl who I can’t place gets right in my face. “I can’t believe you’re going through with it. Think of this as us doing you a favor.” They know too much about me. They’ve seen too much. How long have they been trailing me before they moved into Morganna’s old house? Gaining information? My schedule, my hobbies, my friends and clients. My intel guys said they were around these days, that I should watch my six, but never in my wildest dreams would I have guessed they’d be so permanently around here. The woman snickers. She sounds young.
It hits me all at once staring at her big eyes. “Cody,” I whisper. This is the woman…girl, Cody was out on a date with at the café in NYC. The expensive bourbon wants to come back up. I won’t let it.
“Name’s Rosy,” she says. “You’re an idiot for not staying with Cody. His dick tastes like candy dipped in cocaine. I’m addicted.” I planned to go easy, but then she opened her mouth. I uppercut her so hard that I hear her jaw crack, and her teeth click together. Maybe I even chipped one. Rosy stumbles backward, but doesn’t fall. It was my last bit of freedom before I’m met with fifty thousand volts of electricity. Helplessly, I watch as he puts his Taser in the back pocket of his slacks. Shaking his head, he scoops me up like a baby and carries me to his fucking boat that’s bobbing against the dock. It’s primed and ready for a midnight sail.
I walked right into a trap, unarmed and completely drunk. My only hope is that I broke a bone, even a small one, in that bitch’s face. I can see the lights shining from my house like a lighthouse. I’m not headed toward it, I’m motoring away from it into the inky, dark water I used to take solace in.
If I wasn’t one hundred percent sure what was going on before, I am the second the man shocks me again and stuffs a gag in my mouth. The strip of duct tape on top of it is the icing on the fucking Vadim cake.
That motherfucker is going to pay.
_______________
White flowers are everywhere. They hang from trees that obviously do not flower, they drape over arches, on top of chairs, on the grass, in the sky. Wait, no, there are so many that it feels like flowers are falling from the sky. Guests have arrived at the outdoor venue and have parked themselves in the white folding chairs. There’s a lot of them and my nerves are causing my entire body to shake with unease. My teeth chatter.
“Calm yourself,” Chloe chides, rubbing my bare shoulders. The strapless
dress was selected a long time ago. So long ago that I don’t tell anyone exactly when I picked it out to marry another man. It’s a beautiful dress. It should have its time to shine, that’s my thinking. Everything else about this day and wedding is different.
I nod. “It’s just a lot. After all that we’ve been through, I can’t believe this is actually happening. It feels so final. Like death,” I say, looking out of the window of the large bed and breakfast. A harpist plays a tune that sounds vaguely familiar.
“Did you seriously just say death?” Chloe asks.
I realize my mistake and try to cover it up. “Well, death is the most final thing that can happen to a person. And I’m feeling like this is pretty final,” I remark, petting the sides of the expensive beaded silk.
Chloe scoffs. “You’re so morose. Come on, everyone is waiting downstairs. You’re holding this crazy train up.” My mom appears in the doorway wearing her finest old lady suit. She looks like she’s supposed to attend brunch with the Queen. That said, she’s still beautiful. Her blonde hair that was similar to mine is now almost a silver color. Her complexion is flawless for a woman her age, and her smile is the smile of a mother who is finally giving away her daughter.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t get all emotional, please. I have so many of my own emotions right now that I think dealing with yours might set me over the edge,” I say in Russian. She laughs, but I see wetness in the corners of her ice blue eyes. I point a finger at her in warning. “I mean it.” She tells me that I need to indulge her. I let her hug me and kiss me and tell me a story about how when I was five years old I dressed up in an old sheet and forced the boy next door to marry me. I stuck a daffodil in the pocket of his jean shorts because he didn’t have a pocket in his shirt. She told me I was serious about it and expected our parents to attend. He ended up running away with tears streaming down his face because I told him he had to kiss me on the cheek to seal the deal. She tells me this as we walk down to the quaint lobby and then out of the back doors. I hang on to every word, like a sponge requiring water to breathe. I try to envision the scenario from her eyes, looking at myself trying to marry the little boy. It calms me down, makes me feel more at ease.
The Crazy Good SEAL Series: Books 1-3 Page 77