Hush (Black Lotus #3)

by E. K. Blair

  I move quickly, making my way down to him, and we exit the building through the back corridors that lead into the parking garage. Before I know it, we’re zipping through the streets of Chicago on our way to the river.

  The drive is tense. No words are spoken at all. We both know our parts and what we have to do.

  Turning into the train yard, Declan hits the lights. Everything goes black as we weave through lines of train cars. When we edge closer to the water, I spot Matt with a tall man, thick with bulky muscles.

  “That’s him,” I whisper.

  Declan stops the car and shuts it off. “You ready?”

  Our eyes lock. “Yes.”

  The moment Declan opens his door, Matt draws his gun and fires. It’s a botched shot, but sends me into instant defense mode. Without sparing a second, all guns are drawn in an outburst of chaos.

  “What the fuck, Elizabeth?” Matt shouts, but my focus is on the automatic Marco has aimed at me while Declan claims Matt as his target.

  So many words are being thrown around at the same time as sparks of fear ignite within me.

  “On your fucking knees,” Declan yells.

  “Fuck you!” Matt throws back.

  It’s a frenzy all around me, but my only point of concentration is right in front of me—Marco and his gun.

  “Elizabeth,” Declan’s voice calls from behind in worriment, to which I respond in a steady voice, “I’m okay.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” The shark snaps at Matt, berating him as he keeps his gun pointed at me.

  “Marco,” I greet in a strong voice, needing him to see me as nothing other than a woman in complete control. He stands a good one foot taller than me and the moon reflects off his shiny bald head. He’s intimidating as hell, but I refuse to let it show. “I’m not looking to bullshit around tonight. The fact that my pistol is on you is a mere result of your client firing his gun. Clearly he’s as dumb as he looks because without us, you don’t get your money and he’s a dead man.” With Marco’s gun targeted on me, I instruct, “You need money from this ass wipe, and I intend on covering his part along with enough to make you forget this night ever happened. But I’m going to need you to holster your gun. You do that, and mine is down as well. But you need to get that little shit under control too.”

  “You’re my kind of girl. Elizabeth, right?”

  “It’s whatever you want it to be; I’m not here to make friends.”

  “I like you,” he says before taking his aim off of me and swinging his arm around to Matt.

  “You’re a fucking idiot!” he scolds and then pulls the trigger, sending a bullet straight into Matt’s leg, collapsing him down to the ground in an instant. Marco doesn’t bat an eye when he holsters his gun and turns back to me while Matt screams in agony.

  I watch as Declan picks up Matt’s gun before I look back to Marco and shove my pistol into the waist of my pants. “I give you my word that we have no intention of doing you any wrong. That man right there,” I tell him, nodding my head to Declan. “He’s not too happy that your client has put me in harm’s way. So, let me tell you how this night is going to go. You give me the account number you want me to wire the money into. I suggest it be whatever offshore account you no doubt hold, because I intend on dumping a lot of fucking cash into it. Then we wait. When the money is transferred, my friend holding the gun is going to teach Matt a lesson. You’re more than welcome to watch, but I’ll leave that choice to you. Then I plan on going home and getting some sleep.”

  My orders are to the point.

  “You’re good,” he compliments.

  “I’ve dabbled in enough cons for one life.”

  “Elizabeth!” Matt’s voice is terror-stricken. “What the fuck is going on here?”

  “Shut the fuck up, dickfuck!” Declan shouts, and when I look at Matt over my shoulder, I tell him with a smile, “Who’s the cunt now?”

  “Please, man. Don’t kill me!”

  Declan steps closer and presses the muzzle of the gun against Matt’s forehead. “I told you to shut the fuck up.”

  Matt continues to flap his pathetic mouth, begging Declan to spare his life, but I turn back to Marco. “Let’s speed this up; I’ve had a long day.”

  “My phone is in my pocket,” he tells me so I don’t assume he’s reaching for a weapon.

  “I’ll get it.” I trust no one.

  I pull it out and hand it to him before retrieving my own phone. I wait as he pulls up the bank account he wants to use for the transfer. He proceeds to provide all the information that I need to conduct the wire, and once the country code and numbers are all entered, we wait for the delivery. It takes about fifteen minutes for Marco’s bank account to update and reflect the deposit.

  “Fuck me.” His face grows in satisfaction when he sees the amount of zeros in the transaction.

  “Are we done here?”

  His eyes meet mine, and he shoves his phone back into his pocket. “Done and forgotten.”

  “Marco, come on, man! Don’t leave me here,” Matt begs through the pain of his bloody leg.

  “I’m not leaving. Not yet anyways.” Marco backs up, and when I turn over my shoulder to look at him, he straightens out his coat and says, “Can’t be getting my new coat dirty,” with a wink.

  When I focus back on Matt, his eyes spiral out of control as he continues to plead. “Come on! I swear to you, I’ll leave you alone, Elizabeth. Don’t shoot me.”

  “You threw my life away to keep yours, and now you’re begging me to save you? You’re unsaveable, Matt. You always have been.”

  “It’s me, Elizabeth! Come on!” His body tremors in inexorable fear. It coats his face in a layer of sweat.

  “The only thing I owe you before you die is a thank you.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Thank you for handing me the match the night we burned Carl and Bobbi. It’s the best gift you ever gave me.”

  “You fucked up the moment you put her life in danger.” Declan’s voice is guttural, his eyes merciless.

  “Don’t do this, man. Plea—”

  BANG.

  Matt’s blood sprays across the side of my face and clothes as the crack of gunfire echoes through the night. His body collapses as dark blood pours out of the hole in his head. Clumps of his brain litter the gravel surrounding us. Declan stands above his unmoving body, aims the gun down, and ensures his death.

  BANG.

  BANG.

  Behind the ringing in my ears, I hear Marco’s distant voice, “That’s gonna be a bitch to clean up,” followed by stones crunching under his feet and the slam of his car door. The tires of his SUV roll over the rocks of the train yard, and then he’s gone.

  Declan remains fixed above Matt’s dead body; he’s a cold-blooded phoenix, no longer the man he once was when I met him in Chicago. He’s the creation of my monstrosity, forever changed as a result of my demented soul. He fell in love with the devil when he fell in love with me.

  When his eyes shift to me, I go to him, grab his blood-streaked face, and affirm, “I love you,” before kissing him through the metallic taste of death.

  “AT LEAST YOU got to see him. You always said you’d do anything to have him back for just one more second. You got that and more.”

  “It still hurts.”

  “I know.”

  Pike tightens his arms around me as I lay my head on his chest. He’s been with me ever since Declan left earlier to pay Lachlan a visit. I haven’t been able to get out of bed since we returned to London yesterday. Everything came to a standstill when we boarded the plane in Chicago. All of a sudden, there were no more distractions, and the weight of the past few days came crashing down on me.

  I’m sad.

  I miss my dad.

  “He’s alive though.”

  “Is that supposed to be a good thing?”

  His fingers comb through my hair while I grip a wad of his white shirt that embodies the scent of his clove cigarettes.
“What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if his life is plagued with the agony he told me he carries with him every day, wouldn’t death be better? This world forces people to endure incredible pain. It’s like we’re all a bunch of masochists because we continue to choose life over death.”

  “That’s a morbid thought.”

  “But it’s true, right?” I tilt my head back to look at his beautiful face—young and free from stress. “Do you feel anything now that you’re . . .”

  “Dead?” he says, picking up the word that hurts too much to say. “I miss you, but it doesn’t feel like it did when I was alive. It’s hard to describe. Somehow, I’m always at peace even though I miss you.”

  “Missing you is excruciating.”

  “I wish I could take it away from you, but you have so much to live for. You have a life with Declan. He’s good to you. He protects you. There are no boundaries for him when it comes to protecting you—he’ll do anything.”

  I move to sit up in bed, and when Pike does the same, we face each other. “Are you mad about what we did to Matt?”

  “No. I agree with Declan; all bets were off the moment that fucker put your life on the line.”

  I gaze into his eyes and release a deep breath before telling him, “I don’t know what I would ever do without you.”

  His hand comes to meet my face, and I notice his eyes morph into a laden expression. “Do you think I took advantage of you?”

  “What?”

  He drops his head for a beat before returning to me, and he finally voices for the first time what I’ve always known. “I was in love with you my whole life.” His eyes glaze over, tear-filled, and he tells me, “All I wanted was to make you happy. No matter what you asked of me, I gave it to you—even when I knew it was wrong.”

  “You didn’t take advantage of me, Pike.” I take his hand from my cheek and hold it in my own. “It was me. I took advantage of you. I knew you were in love with me, and I used that to steal from you. I took your love, and I used it to comfort my pain. And I am so sorry I played with your emotions the way I did.”

  “Don’t be sorry.”

  He takes me into his arms, and as we hold each other, I ask, “Do you still feel that way about me?”

  “No.”

  “Does it hurt you to see me with Declan?”

  Relaxing his grip, he pulls away and runs his hands down my arms. “No.” He holds both of my hands and we sit face to face on the bed. “I love you, I always will and nothing will ever change that. But something happened when I died. The way I loved you changed. I know Declan is good for you. He’s able to love you and care for you in a way I wouldn’t have ever been capable of. Seeing you two together settles me. I know you’re going to be okay in this life because of him.”

  “You and Declan are the best things that ever happened to me in this shitty life.”

  “And you are the best thing that ever happened to me when I was alive. And Declan is the best thing that’s happened to me in my death, because he’s giving you everything I wanted to but couldn’t. You’re the best part of me, you know?”

  I look into the eyes of my savior, and although I wish I could turn back the hands of time and not have pulled that trigger, at least I know he’s moved on to a better place. And now, in his death, he goes on to serve as my orenda in this vicious world. He claims that it’s only Declan who provides my safety and comfort, but it’s the both of them together that blend the elixir that just might be my saving grace.

  I hate that I had to leave Elizabeth back at the apartment, but I don’t feel safe handling this situation with Lachlan around her. Between his calls to Camilla and the insinuations from my father that Lachlan is withholding information from me, trust is now riddled with uncertainty.

  I’m a sparking fuse dangling over gasoline as I make my way to his hotel. Hot off the kill from the other day, I’ve been unable to quell the viperous animal inside me. It’s spitting at me to fix my own unresolved issue—the way I handled Elizabeth’s for her. But I will go to any length possible to ensure Elizabeth’s safety. I failed to protect her from Matt putting a hit on her—I won’t fail again.

  With my pistol holstered under my suit jacket, I step off the elevator and make my way down to his room. After a couple swift knocks, the door opens, and I whip out my gun, barreling the muzzle into Lachlan’s forehead. I use the force of the gun to push him into the room and then kick the door closed.

  “What the hell?” His wide eyes are consumed with sheer horror and fear.

  I back him up as he lifts his hands in surrender, and when he falls back into a chair, I hiss venomously, “I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me what the fuck you are doing talking to Camilla and my father before I put a bullet in your head. You’ve seen me do it before, so make no mistake, I will do it again.”

  “What I told you was the truth.” His words tremble just as his hands do.

  “And now I’m demanding the whole truth.”

  I bring my thumb up and engage the hammer, chambering a round, and he gives in to the fear like a whore’s pussy.

  “Jesus! Okay! Okay!”

  “I’m not fucking around!”

  “Shit, okay. Please, relax with the gun, man,” he blurts out in a panic. “I’ll tell you everything, just . . .”

  “Start talking!” My bark is pure sulfur, and he’s terrified as he squirms, slipping down into the chair. “Now!”

  “I’m stealing from Cal,” he jabbers out instantly.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I’m . . . It’s . . . The thing is—”

  “Goddammit!”

  “I can’t fucking think with a gun to my head!” he hollers from his slouched position in the chair, and I draw the gun back, keeping it targeted on him. His eyes never stray from my weapon. I stand a few feet back and watch as he clumsily sits up.

  “Start talking.”

  “Camilla called me when your father was arrested. When she realized the evidence was stacked against him, she knew she’d be left out to dry without a penny. She called me, told me her crazy scheme to embezzle his money. She had it all planned out. Told me to reach out to him. She figured he’d be desperate to have someone in his corner, and aside from the fallout we had when I found out about the two of them, I was, in fact, a man he had thoroughly trusted for years.”

  “Speed it up.”

  “I reached out to him with the help of Camilla, and before I knew it, he was wanting me to keep an eye on you, which was when I started reporting to him about you,” he confesses.

  “You told him about Elizabeth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Get to the part that’s going to save your life and spare me the headache of cleaning up your murder,” I threaten.

  “Camilla convinced him to trust me to launder his hidden assets through your charity foundation. She vowed we’d split it fifty-fifty, but I had my own plans. I promise you I never filtered any of that money through any of your businesses.”

  “Where is it?”

  “With a junket in Macau.”

  I disengage the hammer and lower my pistol, and Lachlan drops his hands and releases a heavy breath of relief.

  “I never lied when I assured you have my loyalty. You and Elizabeth, but never your father, and if that’s an issue with us then—”

  “It’s not an issue. He’s done,” I tell him and then take a moment to process the fact that this man has taken it upon himself to undermine my father and his girlfriend for financial gain in the name of revenge.

  “This is why Camilla keeps calling. I had to keep her believing that we were on the mend and working together, but I just got word the other day that he’s been indicted. It’s only a matter of time before he confesses. He knows he’s safer in prison than out. If he allows this to go to trial, it won’t matter if he wins or loses—he’s a dead man.”

  He’s right. I know him admitting his guilt to forego a trial will be inevitable. A t
rial would mean witnesses and handing over names. It would be him turning his back on those only a man with a death wish would do. Which is why I refuse to allow Elizabeth to get worked up about her crimes being uncovered.

  “I need you to go back. You said the money was with a junket?” I ask. “I’m not skilled in the world of embezzling, so I need you to tell me what’s going on. No more bullshitting me.”

  “Working in the world of finance all my life, I’ve come to know a handful of shifty people. One of them was able to hire me a junket in China. For a twenty percent fee, he exchanges my cash for poker chips. With Macau being the casino capital of the world and Hong Kong having so many intermediaries that are willing to transfer funds to anywhere without asking too many questions, it was my safest option.”

  “What happens with the chips?”

  “My junket gambles a little and then cashes them in along with other gamblers’ legitimate chips. The casino accountant then books my money as paid-out winnings.”

  “Where does the money go?”

  “The funds are wire-transferred in such a way that the money crosses multiple borders to frustrate detection.”

  “Explain,” I demand needing to know exactly how he plans on transferring what I assume to be millions.

  “For instance,” he continues, “the money might end up in a US trust managed by a shell company in Grand Cayman, owned by another trust in Guernsey with an account in Luxembourg, managed by a Swiss or Singaporean or Caribbean banker who doesn’t know who the owner is. It’s a whirlwind, basically.”

  “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and then looks up to me. “There’s no way to answer that. If I say yes, you’ll think I’m a liar. If I say no, you’ll think I’m a liar for the mere fact I never told you. But, if you need confirmation of where my interests lie, then I’ll give you the accounts. You see, the money was simply a bonus to Camilla landing on her ass, dirt poor and alone. The latter was the capstone.”

  Testing him, I click the barrel open and dump the bullets. I walk over to him, lay the gun on the desk, and tell him, “I want all the accounts.”