by Julie Kenner
To inspect a skinned knee.
To pick up a shiny coin that he would inevitably present to her.
To pick tiny wildflowers she would use to weave a crown.
But it was different now. Now when he stood, he towered over her. He was no longer a boy, a playmate. He was a man. And he was still willing to kneel at her feet.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He rubbed the whiskers at his jaw. “There’s just one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I can’t let you walk alone.”
She sighed. “Leo, I just need — ”
He held up a hand. “I understand, Diana. And I’m happy to follow at a discreet distance. But you were witness to a murder last night.” She saw the anguish in his eyes, knew that he hated having to say it out loud. “And you left your bag. Your identification. I’m sure I don’t have to explain why it’s a bad idea for you to be out and about alone.”
“You think they’ll come after me?”
He hesitated, like he was considering lying, then exhaled. “I don’t know. But I’m not willing to take the chance.”
She turned away, used her fingers to pull the hair back from her face. “This is mad. Utterly mad.” She turned to face him. “It’s time to go to the police.”
A shadow passed over his eyes. It was gone a moment later. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
He nodded.
She eyed him suspiciously. He’d put up such a fight the night before. Had been so worried about whether or not they could trust the police.
“What aren't you telling me, Leo?”
He sighed. “I have one stop to make first. If you want to go to the police after that, I’ll drive you there myself.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” he said. “But first we’re going to have breakfast.” She started to object and he held up a hand to stop her. “I know you don’t feel like eating, but if you want justice for Maggie, you need to be strong.”
She did want justice for Maggie, and she would tell the police everything she could remember to get it, even if it put her at risk.
“All right.”
He tucked her arm in his. “Still want to walk?”
She shook her head. “Let’s just get it over with.”
They were heading back to the flat when she remembered the name that had drifted through her mind on the heels of sleep.
“I think I remember something,” she said, looking up at him as they walked. “Something the man said last night.”
“The man who chased you? Or the other one.”
She appreciated his avoidance of Maggie and what had happened to her. There would be time enough to mourn her friend later. Now was the time to do right by her, and she could only do that by staying focused on the men who had murdered her.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “It was when they were in the office. I was in the hall.”
Leo held the door open to his building. “What do you remember?”
“It’s a name, I think. Benny Saff.”
“Benny Saff?” He made sure the door was locked behind them before following her up the stairs.
“I’m pretty sure that’s what he said.”
“Does it mean anything to you?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “And I can’t even be sure it’s English. It’s just something that jumped out at me when they were talking, one of the things that didn’t sound like it fit with the other stuff they were saying.”
He opened the door to the flat. “Why didn’t it fit?”
She thought about it. “I can’t explain it. It just… felt like a name.”
“I’ll look into it,” he said. “Why don’t you finish breakfast while I take a shower? Then we’ll head out.”
She wasn’t sure she could eat. Maggie’s death sat like a lead balloon in her stomach. But Leo was right; she needed to be strong for Maggie — and for Evan. There would be time later for grief.
She headed to the dining room while Leo made his way down the hall. A few minutes later, she heard the water running in the bathroom. She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and sat down at the dining table. The food was cold, but she forced herself to take bites anyway. Her eyes wandered the flat as she ate, and she tried to imagine Leo watching TV on the overstuffed couch, putting his feet on the rustic coffee table, maybe snuggling with a woman late at night.
She couldn’t. The place was nice, but it lacked Leo’s presence, the quiet strength and warmth that he brought to every situation, every room. She had been able to feel it even when they were teenagers. She would walk down the staircase and know he was there before she ever reached the bottom. She wouldn’t even have to hear his voice. She just knew.
It didn’t feel like Leo was here. It didn’t feel like he’d ever been here.
Which wasn’t that strange. She worked a lot, too. Traveled a lot. Judging from all the times they’d been able to meet on the road, Leo was probably home as little as she was. She wondered if her apartment felt as empty. If it felt cold in spite of the designer furniture and all the care she’d taken decorating it. The truth is, she didn’t like being there very much. It was lonely. Silent in a way that would have been hard to explain, even when she listened to music or on the rare occasions when she watched a movie on her perfect ivory sofa.
What were they both running from?
She put her cup and plate in the sink, then went to the bedroom to get dressed. She forced herself not to look at the bathroom door as she passed. Forced herself not to think of Leo, naked and wet in the shower. But then she was closing the door to the bedroom, and her gaze snagged on a sliver of white tile.
He hadn't closed the door. Not all the way.
Look away, look away, look away…
Except she couldn’t. Her eyes were pulled to the crack in the doorway, past the white tile, the steam rising from the hot water to the blurry figure moving behind the foggy shower door.
He was bent over a little, that much she could tell. He moved his hands over his legs, and for a moment, it was like they were her hands. She could almost feel his big thighs under her palms, feel his muscles tense as she worked her way up to his muscular buttocks. She could feel his skin slip under the soap in her hands, could hear his breath become labored as she moved her hands down the ridges of his stomach, reaching for his —
The water shut off, and she was immediately pulled from her fantasy. What the hell was she doing?
She closed the door to the bedroom before she could catch a glimpse of Leo stepping naked from the shower. That was the last thing she needed.
Obviously.
Leaning her head against the door, she forced herself to breath slowly, to try and calm the too-rapid beating of her heart. This whole situation had thrown her off balance. It was completely understandable. She’d been witness to a murder. Not just any murder — the murder of someone important to her. She’d fled for her life, dodged bullets, raced through the city in the dark of night, half expecting to be killed at any moment.
It was only natural that she would be acting irrationally.
She jumped as a knock sounded at the door.
“Are you decent?” Leo asked from the other side.
She straightened, drew in a deep breath. Thank god she hadn’t started to change. “Perfectly decent.”
The door opened, and he walked in wearing nothing but a towel. It was hung low on his waist, barely clinging to his hips from what she could see. She knew she was staring, but her eyes seemed to have a will of her own. His hair was damp from the shower and darker than usual, the way it had been when they went swimming as kids. She wanted to slip her hands into it, feel the strands of it in her fingers as she tugged his lips to hers.
His chest was wide, and strong, the muscles perfectly sculpted, the ridges of his pecs narrowing to corded abs which only narrowed further to the trim waist, a perfect showcase for the line of hair that started at his naval and disappeare
d beneath the towel.
She could step toward him, reach him in three steps. It would only take one tug and the towel would be at their feet. She could wrap her arms around his neck, press her body against his. It would be cool and slightly damp. She could lift her leg, wrap it around his thigh. Would he lift her off the ground, allow her to wrap her legs around his waist, to press her soaking pussy against his cock?
“Diana?”
She forced her gaze upward only to find him staring at her. Was it her imagination that there was a knowing look in his eyes? The shadow of a grin on his mouth? She busied herself looking through the shopping bag he’d given her earlier.
“Hmm-mmm?”
“Are you all right?” he asked behind her.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just a little out of sorts.” It wasn’t a lie.
“I’ll get dressed in the other room,” he said. “Give you some privacy.”
She didn’t turn around. “Thank you.”
The door clicked quietly behind him as he disappeared into the hall. She dropped onto the bed, clutching the pile of new clothes in her hands.
She needed to go to the police immediately. For Maggie, first and foremost. But also because she couldn’t stay here with Leo. Couldn’t rely on him for protection. Not when it was becoming more and more obvious that she was her own worst enemy.
Chapter Eight
He drove through London and continued outside the city. He was grateful Diana hadn’t asked where they were going. He was still debating the merit of telling her the truth: that he was a career criminal. That he worked with people who were both dangerous and violent. That he himself was both dangerous and violent when the situation called for it.
That he was in love with her and had been since he’d first helped her up on that playground all those years ago.
He told himself it wasn’t the right time. Wasn’t the right circumstance. The last thing Diana needed was another shock. Deep down, he knew it was an excuse. A convenient one, but an excuse nonetheless. The truth is, he feared her reaction. Feared she would no longer trust him, or even worse, that she would no longer want him in her life. If that were to happen, he wouldn’t even be able to blame her. And yet he didn’t want to think about his life without the bright spot that was Diana Barrett. She was his sun.
Had been for as long as he could remember.
He navigated the car off the highway and wound his way through the streets outside London to a generic looking office building. Pulling into the parking lot made him feel better. It looked like any other company where people pushed paper all day. He would use his cover story. Tell Diana it was a friend’s information technology company. He felt like a bastard lying yet again, but this wasn’t the time nor the place to spill his guts.
No, that had been back at the flat, you lying coward.
He silenced the inner voice. There was enough time to feel like shit later, and he had no doubt he would do so.
“What is this?” Diana asked as they walked toward the nondescript glass doors at the side of the building.
“It’s a friend’s company,” he said, punching numbers into the keypad next to the door. A muffled beep sounded from inside the walls of the building, and he pulled open the door. “I called early this morning. I think they might have some information on the men who were at the bank last night.”
She nodded, a shadow crossing her features. His fists tightened at his sides. It was an involuntary reaction: the desire to hurt someone who had hurt Diana. Bloodlust for the pain of someone who had caused her pain. He had felt it when they were kids. Had had to count to ten in an effort to keep himself from pummeling anyone who teased her, and later, any boy who looked at her too long and hard. He knew instinctively that while Diana’s patience seemed boundless, she wouldn't like that about him. And he still wanted her to like everything about him.
They stepped into a small hall with an empty, glassed-in reception area. The carpet was somewhere on the color spectrum between blue and gray, something that was probably bought by every company in London looking to save a buck. Farrell wasn’t cheap. He spent money where it was necessary. Where it mattered. But the headquarters of their digital operation was meant to be under the radar, and Farrell was good at playing the part.
Any part.
But Leo obviously still had a lot to learn if he was having so much trouble keeping the truth from Diana. He fished out his keys and opened the door to another long hall, then closed it securely behind them.
“You have a key to your friend’s company?” Diana asked.
“It’s for emergencies.” Leo almost winced as he said it. “In case something happens to him.”
She nodded, her brow furrowed as she processed all the information.
They moved down the hall, past large rooms lined with computers. Some of the chairs were manned by people staring intently at the screens or typing furiously. Others were empty. There was no noise except for the tapping of keys, no Muzak to give the place ambience. The coders and hackers they had on staff had their own rituals. They came armed with headphones and smart phones, with an array of food — some of it imported from other countries — and wearing everything from hipster flannel and skinny jeans to three piece suits. The people who worked at Digital Operations weren’t of the same ilk as the people in the rest of Farrell’s operations. They weren’t hired to scare people. To hurt them.
They were hired for their skill at coding and hacking, their ability to trace a well-hidden IP address or access systems with multiple firewalls and one-of-a-kind security measures.
They didn’t hire themselves out. Didn’t take corporate clients the way Nico Vitale had in New York. Farrell was all about Farrell, and now, about Jenna, the woman who’d once left him for New York, and Lily, their daughter. Everything he did, including the Digital Operations Center, was done to increase his power — and his monetary return — over London’s organized crime. The DOC allowed them to hack computer systems that gave them firsthand knowledge of police activity, information from associates that allowed them to increase their profit margin, and most importantly, a heads up when someone had turned traitor — or when they were thinking about it.
“Leo! There you are!”
He turned toward the voice, his gaze landing on a tall, slender woman with long blond hair and a wide smile that was more suited to the red carpet than Farrell’s hidden DOC.
“Here I am,” he said, turning to Diana. “Diana, this is Briony. Briony, Diana Barrett.”
He wasn’t worried about Briony giving anything away. She’d proven time and again to be as secure as one of the vaults at Abbott Bank. She would answer his questions directly, but she would volunteer nothing.
They were all trained to do exactly the same.
She tucked a piece of hair behind one of her ears and held out a hand. “So nice to meet you, Diana. Welcome to our humble abode.”
Diana smiled. “Thank you.”
“We have that information all cued up for you in the conference room,” Briony said. She was slightly nervous around him, a product of his position as Farrell’s second-in-command. He didn't like the deference — he never had — and he hurried forward, avoiding her eyes.
“Can I get you something?” Briony asked behind him. “Coffee? Tea? Water?”
“Diana?”
“No, thank you,” she said.
“Great,” Briony said. “Let me grab my laptop. I’ll meet you in the conference room.”
Leo led Diana to the end of the hall. The room at the end of it was monopolized by a long table of polished wood and three enormous screens mounted to one of the walls.
Leo pulled out a chair. Diana lowered herself into the plush leather, and Leo took the seat next to her. She looked around, her eyes taking in the room. It was more luxurious than the rest of the office, something that wouldn’t go unnoticed. Diana always had an eye for the finer things, yet another reason they weren’t on the same playing field. He saw the flicker of in
terest in her eyes as she combed the simple but high-end furnishings, the expensive electronic equipment, the glowing mahogany of the conference table.
“Sorry about that,” Briony said, closing the door behind her. She sat at the head of the table and set up her laptop, then looked to Leo for approval. He nodded, and a picture bloomed to life on one of the television screens.
He heard Diana’s soft gasp beside him, knew she was shocked by the image of two men striding across the bank’s lobby. He reached out, took her hand under the table. He’d wanted to spare her this, but he wouldn’t be able to protect her unless she agreed not to go to the police. And she wouldn’t agree to that unless he made it clear how much danger she would be in if she did.
“Two men entered the lobby of Abbot Bank of London five hours after closing.” Briony spoke in a clipped voice. This wasn’t personal for her. It was just another job, another task handed down from on high. “We don’t know how they got in, although there was no evidence on the cameras of any kind of force, not during their entry anyway.”
“How did you get this?” Diana said next to him.
“We hacked into the security cameras at Abbott,” Briony said simply. “It’s what we do.”
Diana pulled her arm away from Leo’s grasp, turned her eyes back to the screen. “Go ahead.”
“The men continued despite protestations from the guard, who was promptly shot.” Leo watched as the men on the camera raised their weapons, the guns flaring as they fired. Diana flinched next to him as Briony continued. “They went to the elevators, which by all accounts, they took to the fifteenth floor.”
“No time gap?” Leo asked.
“Nothing significant,” Briony said. “It took them thirty seconds to reach the elevators after shooting the guard, and another fifty-six seconds to emerge in the executive lobby. It checks out.”
Leo nodded, and she continued.
“The suspects exited on the thirteenth floor, where they continued through the lobby and open work area to the office of Margaret Kinsley.” The image on the screen switched angles. Briony had obviously edited the footage together from multiple cameras to give them a continuous look at the path the men had taken.