Olivier

by TJ Nichols

  His father rang, and Cody ignored the call. He’d seen through his father’s illusion and wasn’t impressed.

  Olivier didn’t call. Had he given up? Would Cody have answered? He hoped not, but even now he couldn’t trust himself when it came to Olivier.

  How dumb was he? How could he not have realized that Olivier was his brother’s killer? He’d slept with him, kissed him, wanted him. He’d never forget the look in Olivier’s eyes as he lowered the gun. He’d been haunted and wounded.

  How dare he. Olivier was a killer… who had no choice and didn’t ask questions.

  Cody finished the water and tossed the bottle in the trash. He had to keep moving. People were looking for him. He went down the stairs and got on a train, but he didn’t feel any safer surrounded by people.

  Olivier had said his boss wanted to talk. His father and Palmerston also wanted to talk—they wanted to know what he learned from Lily. He wished he’d been able to open the flash drive. Olivier had said he’d help do that… but probably only because his boss wanted the information. Maybe the files were empty or corrupt or full of Connor’s shopping lists and it was all for nothing. He wiped his hands on his jeans.

  He should’ve stayed home, but he’d felt the need to come back—to see his family again. Did his brother and sister know what was going on? He could call them, but if they didn’t know, he’d be dragging them into it. And if they did know, they would be no help.

  He glanced up at the train line. If he got off in two stops, he’d be near the church that Benitez frequented. Did churches still offer sanctuary? Surely no one would try to kill him while he was in there, though he doubted hit men would respect hallowed ground when all killing was forbidden in The Ten Commandments, and breaking that rule was their day job.

  The church was still a better plan than what he’d had five minutes earlier. With luck it held evening services and would be open.

  The fear didn’t fade. He wasn’t safe, and he wouldn’t be safe until something changed. Olivier had accused him of treating it all like a game. He was guilty of that. He wanted to know what had happened because Connor’s death had stung him. And Connor had left him the message for a reason. Had it been a warning and not a clue?

  Why had Connor not just destroyed the flash drive? Why keep it? But once everyone already knew he had something, it was too late to destroy the evidence.

  The train stopped, and Cody got off with a small group of other people. He tried really hard not to glance around like a sheep looking for wolves. Olivier had called him a pawn.

  A pawn could check a king if he was in the right place at the right time. He stared at the church across the street. The windows glowed with golden light. Which king did he check, and which one did he make a deal with? He’d never been any good at chess. He lacked the patience. Connor had beaten him every single time. This didn’t feel any different.

  The café where he’d first seen Olivier was closed. Besides, he didn’t have enough cash on him to waste on fancy coffee. He crossed the street and walked up the church steps. His stomach churned, and he wished he hadn’t eaten, but he couldn’t think on an empty stomach. He wished he’d never come to New York and never agreed to meet Lily after the funeral. He should’ve nodded his head, grieved, and gone back to Vegas.

  He should never have come. His family had let him go years before and lacked even the basic courtesy to notify him of Connor’s death. He wanted to blame Lily for e-mailing him, but he couldn’t. But he didn’t want back in. He was better off without his family.

  He didn’t need them or their money. God, the blood that must be on that money. He didn’t want to think about it. He pushed open the heavy door, surprised and relieved to find it open, and went into the church.

  A man was dusting the altar. The church was otherwise empty. The man turned. “Can I help you?”

  “I just need somewhere to think.” Cody walked down the aisle until he reached the middle. Then he slid into the pew.

  “This is a good place to think and get guidance.” The man continued to dust.

  It was the priest from the service Cody had watched. Without his robes he looked like any other man and he had no extra powers. Cody doubted he could help, but he felt safe, and it was warm in the church.

  “What troubles you?” The priest gave up his battle with the dust. “If you don’t feel like talking, I’ll be quiet.”

  How many times has Benitez confessed his murders to this man?

  “Do you think some things are meant to be?” He couldn’t see a way out that didn’t end badly for him. Maybe he should’ve gone to a police station instead of a church, but he couldn’t forget that they had written off Connor’s murder as an accident.

  “There’s always a plan.”

  Cody nodded. Yeah. There was always a plan, but he usually made it. Suddenly he was in the audience and couldn’t see the strings being pulled. He didn’t know how the trick was going to end.

  He’d always hated surprises.

  He breathed in the scent of old incense. Classical music played in the background. It wasn’t his usual stage—he did his work behind the scenes—but it would do.

  Connor’s murder had made him look up, and the lure had caught his attention and brought him there. What would have happened if he hadn’t come? His father still would’ve raided his brother’s home, looking for the information. Lily still would’ve been killed by Palmerston. Palmerston was a distraction. He wasn’t part of the trick; he was the wand that his father waved to keep Cody’s attention.

  That left Benitez. After the initial hit, he’d done nothing except watch and wait. He was the magician in charge. His father was the assistant who made it all look flashy. Now Benitez wanted to ask Cody which card was his?

  He wouldn’t know until he met the man.

  Audience participation was always unpredictable, and that was how Cody intended to keep it. He would take control.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHURCH.

  Olivier looked at the message. It took a moment for the word to make sense. For a second he thought it was Marie, wanting him to confess all and die with a clear conscience. But it wasn’t her. It was Cody.

  His phone buzzed again as the message flashed up a second time.

  Slowly he got up. The cold had seeped into him, and he felt a hundred years old—and not the spry hundred either. He carried the weight of too much sadness. Too much death.

  He could’ve caught the subway, but he didn’t want to rely on trains, so he took the bike out for another run… maybe the last one. It was such a waste to have a bike in a city like New York. When he bought it, he told himself he’d take a vacation and ride it south or west—get away and pretend he wasn’t coming back. That had been three years earlier.

  The bike let him cut through traffic. Even though it was dinnertime, people were still out and about. They were living their lives, unworried about the dramas being played out around them.

  He parked behind the church in the spots reserved for staff. He checked his phone again—no missed calls or messages. That was hopefully a good thing.

  But he could imagine Benitez sitting in his office, waiting, his annoyance made worse by whatever injuries he’d sustained.

  Olivier took two steps forward, determined to grab Cody and not let him get away a second time. Then he stopped as though the asphalt had melted and glued his feet to the ground.

  Cody had sent for him.

  And Cody knew what he was.

  That look of horror wasn’t something Olivier would forget in a hurry. He glanced up at the building and apologized, just in case any god was listening and cared. Then he drew his gun and crept in through the back door. He shut it just as silently, slid forward through the dark, and listened for voices or any signs of life.

  Nothing, except for some faint music.

  He expected a trap—perhaps Anders was waiting for him. No. Anders wouldn’t get his hands dirty. If anything it would be Palmerston. Cody had said
his family had a criminal background. They only looked clean. But if one scratched the surface, the truth would be revealed, and it would be ugly. The message had come from Cody’s phone, but that didn’t mean he’d sent it. If anything had happened to him….

  At the end of the corridor, he stopped and peered out.

  Cody sat in the middle of the church, elbows on the pew in front, chin resting on his hands, eyes closed as though deep in prayer. The light caught his blond hair and haloed. He was the prettiest being Olivier had ever seen. And Olivier was there to destroy him, to balance the scales of his nightmare.

  No, he would not. He wanted the nightmares to stop, and they would only stop if Cody lived. Of that he was certain. At the same time, the white-hot need for balance burned in his veins and eclipsed the lust that had been there.

  He tried to remember the heat of Cody’s touch and kiss. He wanted to go back to that, to those perfect few hours where nothing else had mattered. He should’ve stayed that night. He should’ve told Cody about his recurring nightmare, told the truth about what he was and what he’d done.

  If he’d been honest from the time they’d met, that night never would’ve happened. If it never happened, he wouldn’t have started to care, and he’d have been happy to do his job. The nightmare would have followed him to his next life. He had to stop it.

  His knuckles were white as he gripped the gun.

  The priest came around the corner and stopped. He stepped back and crossed himself as though he’d confronted the devil himself. His gaze dropped to the glinting barrel of the pistol. “Not here.”

  Olivier lifted one hand, palm up, as he put his gun away with the other. Then he showed that hand too. He missed the feel of the weapon. The urge to kill still corroded his veins, but he swallowed hard and scraped together some rational thought. He didn’t want Cody to die just so he could save himself. He didn’t care if the nightmares were lies and a sign of his mind breaking apart under the stress. To him they were real, and they had been real when he was a child, long before he’d killed anyone. “I came to talk.”

  “No blood is to be spilled in this place. That’s all I have ever asked of your boss.”

  Olivier nodded as Cody looked over to see what the problem was. Olivier stepped out of the shadows. He expected others to materialize and confront him, but no one did. “He’s alone?”

  The priest nodded and grabbed his arm. “He’s not one of you.”

  “I know. He’s….”

  The priest studied him. “Salvation, if you accept it.”

  Olivier tried to laugh, but no sound formed. “Don’t you think it’s too late for me?”

  “It’s never too late.” The priest released him and brushed past, toward his office.

  Olivier walked over to Cody—slowly, as though he were afraid to startle some rare, wild animal. He kept his hands in view. Cody watched as Olivier sat next to him. For a moment neither of them said anything. Music filled the church. Cody had summoned him. He tried to view that as a good thing.

  But why had Cody wanted him there?

  He didn’t dare break the silence to ask, but he did risk a glance. The priest had called Cody his salvation. If the priest knew what he dreamed every night, he wouldn’t say such things. Olivier didn’t want Cody to die. It hurt to see it happen in his nightmares, but it always did. First one brother and then the other. Two deaths. The universe was waiting for him.

  “Tell me what happened to Connor.” Cody’s voice was soft and rough.

  “You don’t—”

  “Tell me.” Cody’s words were like a knife that cut through the peace.

  Olivier nodded and hung his head. “I watched him for several weeks, to learn about him. I already knew he had a habit or two. I’d been given the order to kill him and make it discreet. I took the place of his dealer and gave him the pure cocaine. I didn’t force him to use it. He had a choice, but I think he knew it was coming.” Olivier paused. “If he’d refused, I would’ve had to find a way to make him use it.”

  Cody let out a shaky breath, his face rigid with anger and pain—pain that he’d caused. “Lily was pregnant.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. If I’d been closer to her….” Or faster. Palmerston’s boys would’ve finished them both off with a couple of quick rounds and he’d have been just as dead as she was.

  Cody stared straight ahead, his eyes glassy. “I was an idiot to trust you. I kissed you. I wanted you… your hands….”

  Olivier stared at his hands. “I know. I live with it every day. I never wanted to be this person, but here I am, bound up in a rope I made, and I can’t get free.” For a few precious hours in Cody’s arms, he had been free, but he couldn’t say that.

  “All of this because my father got scared of what Connor had found out. Here’s the bit that doesn’t make sense. If Connor worked for your boss and didn’t want to hand over the info that he’d gathered, why kill him? What did Benitez have to gain?” His voice was sharp, the words shards that cut.

  “I think it was a warning to your father. I’m not sure. If I had the answers, I would’ve told you. Sometimes it’s safer not to know.” He wished Cody understood that. Maybe he was finally realizing.

  Cody pressed his lips together and still refused to look at Olivier. “Then I suggest you call your boss and I call my father and we see what they have to say.”

  “That would not be a smart move. You can still walk out of this.”

  Cody turned. There was red around his eyes, but his stare was hard. “And have your death on my conscience? No. I’m not like you. I wouldn’t be able to live with that.”

  Whereas Olivier could. What was one more? “Do you have a plan?”

  “No. But I have what they want.”

  “They can’t learn that. They’ll take the flash drive and kill you.”

  “No they won’t. If I don’t cancel the email, the contents of the flash drive get sent to everyone I could think of who might be interested—from the local police to the FBI. I need to be alive.”

  Olivier wasn’t sure if Cody was telling the truth or making a dangerous bluff. Either way it was a risky move. “You can be alive and still wish you were dead, Cody. I don’t want to see that. I don’t want to be part of that.”

  “Then help me. Do penance for killing my brother so I can forgive you instead of regretting the moment your lips touched mine.” He clenched his jaw. “I don’t want to want you at the moment, and I hate myself.”

  Olivier flexed his fingers. It would be easy to reach out, brush Cody’s jaw, and draw him close. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to see Cody recoil. He didn’t want to damage Cody further.

  Olivier pulled out his phone. “What time would you like my boss to be here? I should warn you, he’ll be in a foul mood after someone tried to kill him. Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Better than waiting to die,” Cody said through gritted teeth.

  CODY CALLED his father and asked him to come to the church.

  “And what made you change your mind?” his father asked as though he cared.

  “Benitez wants to talk to me. I’m worried I’ll end up like Connor.”

  “He wants to know what Connor told you.”

  “Which is the same as what you want. I’ve told you that Connor told me nothing,” It wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t told Cody anything. “No one seems to believe me. Maybe Connor knew nothing and he died for nothing.”

  “You don’t understand, if I don’t get that information, Benitez could use it against me.”

  “You want to use it first.” It was just another business deal to his father, and he didn’t care who got stepped on in the process.

  “I know you have something. You were seen meeting with Lily, and you went to the bank to get something from a safety-deposit box.”

  Cody gave a sharp laugh. “I’m not allowed to manage my affairs? Why do you assume that everything leads back to you?” A chill ran down his spine. Someone had been watching him. Th
e same someone who’d taken the pictures and sent them to Benitez?

  His father was silent for several seconds. “You’re as stupid as your brother. I will have that information. It would be safer for you to give it to me.”

  “If something happens to me, that information gets sent to the police and anyone I could think of who might have an interest in your businesses. Unlike Connor, I don’t believe that keeping it safe and hidden is the solution.” He was bluffing hard, and he hoped it didn’t show in his voice.

  “You wouldn’t ruin the family.”

  “And you wouldn’t have me killed, so I guess there’s nothing to worry about.” He hung up before his father could reply.

  Olivier was waiting, leaning against a pew. The priest was very absent. “Done?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know if he’ll come… or if he will bring his friends.”

  “Benitez won’t come alone. Not after tonight. I told him your father would be here. That seemed to sweeten the offer.”

  “And you offered him me?” That still didn’t sit well.

  “That was my job—to bring you in. Maybe he just wanted to use you as bait.”

  “Maybe.” That didn’t sit well either, and Benitez would have to know that his father didn’t really give a damn about his life. Cody took a few steps toward Olivier. “Why didn’t you shoot me?”

  Olivier stared at him, his eyes black in the soft light. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

  “There’s a lot of things I wouldn’t have believed a few weeks or even a few days ago, so try me. You have nothing to lose.” Cody needed a reason to believe Olivier gave a damn and that it hadn’t all been a lie. It would be better if there was nothing between them. But every time he looked at Olivier, there was that flicker—a heat that wouldn’t go out no matter how much dirt he shoveled on the fire.