Eulogy
Page 17
The facade slipped.
The cocky, ‘I’ll kill you for looking at me’ facade.
And in its place, a vulnerability that was impossible not to respond to.
I took the plate and then grabbed the fork and took a huge bite, too huge, but I was starving.
His eyes lowered to my mouth.
“Mmm.” I loved pancakes. I tried not to hate him for finding my weakness so easily. “They’re so fluffy.”
“It’s the duck eggs,” he said in a gravelly voice.
My eyes snapped open. “Duck eggs, really?”
“I may have ducks.”
“Real ducks?”
“No, fake ones that lay fake eggs that I put in real pancakes. Yes, real ducks.” He crossed his arms. “They’re better to cook…” He gulped and looked away. “…to cook with.”
“Do you name them?” I took another bite.
“The ducks?”
I nodded at his curious look. “Yeah.”
“Huey, Dewey, and Louie,” he said with a completely straight face.
“Ah, so that makes you…” I pointed my fork at him. “…Uncle Scrooge?”
“Insulting the man who feeds you?”
“Pancakes hardly make up for threatening to shoot someone,” I said before stopping myself. Great, now he was going to threaten me again.
He tilted his head at me, his expression puzzled. “You’re right.”
“I am?” I almost felt his forehead to make sure he wasn’t feverish; the dark circles were gone from under his eyes, and he looked… more human than I’d ever seen him, which consequently also meant that he looked so beautiful it hurt to stare directly into his haunted blue eyes.
“Don’t get told that often?” he smirked.
I looked away and took another bite, only to realize that I’d literally downed three full pancakes in front of him. Awesome, he’s going to think I’d rather eat than breathe. Only partially true.
Chase grabbed the plate from my hands and set it on the desk near the stacks of all his monetary donations.
Children’s wing. Hospital.
He moved closer.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Killer. He was a killer.
He slept with a gun and had pointed it at me on numerous occasions. Just don’t look into his blue eyes. Don’t look.
“You have some syrup.” His thumb swept over my bottom lip.
I sucked in a breath.
When he lowered his head and then picked up the plate next to me, I could have sworn he was going to kiss me; instead, he was just leaning over.
Stupid, stupid, Luciana.
I’d schooled my features by the time he faced me again. This time his eyes followed my black blouse all the way down to my pencil skirt and stilettos. “You know, you don’t have to wear… that.”
Was he hitting on me?
My eyes narrowed as I put my hands on my hips. “Listen, sexual harassment is a real thing in the workplace. I’m keeping my clothes on, thank you very much!”
He bit down on his bottom lip and nodded his head. “Women’s rights… got it.” He turned on his heel and left the room then peeked his head around the corner and winked. “I meant you could wear jeans and a t-shirt instead of high heels.”
He disappeared again.
I groaned and pressed a hand to my forehead just as he poked his head around the corner again and said, “Oh, and you still have chocolate…” He pointed to the side of his mouth. “…right here.”
I wiped my mouth with my sleeve without thinking.
“Looks like you’ll need to change after all.”
“This is all I have!” I called back to him and got a credit card thrown at my face in return.
I picked it up off the floor. “Um, I’m not letting you—”
“We leave in ten,” was all he said.
And since he had a gun…
And my shoes were so uncomfortable I could cry…
I listened.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
“There is no greater feeling than when every plan falls perfectly into place.”
— Ex-FBI Agent P
Chase
I hated that everything came back down to comparison.
Her easy trusting smiles, even though I’d threatened her and mistreated her, and finally, the way she’d thrown herself into eating the pancakes like she’d never had real food before.
I wasn’t insecure in anything.
Except cooking.
Because I’d lived with someone who rarely ate.
Always too busy.
Always on the run.
Always leaving food on the plate.
I would never tell Luc that my anger matched my panic when she’d picked up the plate and examined it. I wasn’t even aware it was a test until she passed with flying colors and devoured the whole thing in front of me. I half expected her to start eating the plate.
With each bite, my heart cracked.
And I hated that my first thought was So that is what it’s like… to give something and have someone actually take it without reservation.
So that was what it felt like.
It was like a match getting lit in my chest, spreading warmth throughout my body. It was addicting knowing that if I did something, she’d actually accept it; she wouldn’t argue. Maybe she was too afraid to argue?
But something in me felt as if it had just been put back together again. And it was all over a plate of damn pancakes.
Luc was silent on the car ride; she kept rubbing her hands together as if she was nervous to be riding with me. I couldn’t blame her. I was speeding.
I was always speeding.
Why have a sports car and not speed? It made no logical sense.
I parked on the street near Michigan Avenue. Versace was one of my favorite places, but I knew their idea of casual wear was a t-shirt that cost more than a Honda.
“Let’s go.” I snapped my fingers at one of the guys and tossed him my keys.
“Mr. Abandonato.” He nodded.
Luc just stared at me with wide eyes.
As if she wasn’t used to money.
As if this wasn’t normal when it had been my normal my entire life.
Doors just opened.
People looked away.
Nobody made eye contact.
Just like nobody ever said no to me.
“So…” I shoved my phone in my back pocket then placed my hand on the small of Luc’s back. She flinched and, for some reason, it bothered me because I wasn’t sure if it was a flinch out of fear or something worse — attraction. I knew what to do with fear.
I had no fucking clue what to do with the other.
I could just come out and tell her not to fall for a dead man.
Two weeks was enough time to form an attachment.
And I didn’t want my death being on her conscience.
No tears wasted.
I didn’t deserve them.
I never have.
All I knew was that my days were numbered, and when I thought about living out the rest of my time sitting in my giant mansion alone with blood on my hands, I kind of wanted to point a gun to my temple and pull the trigger. But when I thought about Luc…
I could breathe.
A little easier.
“…so,” I whispered, “where to?”
“Um…” She frowned at the stores that lined the street and then looked back at me. “…I’m a bit out of my element here.”
“What? You don’t normally go shopping with mercenaries?”
“Ah, so now you’re a mercenary?”
I shrugged.
“Organized crime,” she said quietly, “sure pays well, doesn’t it?”
I just smiled.
“You’re too young, you know…” Her face grew serious. “…to be mixed up in something like this.”
I stopped walking. “Luc, I’ve been mixed up with this since before I said my first word. My cousin and I were forced to kill at thirteen. I
had blood on my hands at the ripe old age of eight. Believe me when I say I’m old as fuck.”
Tears filled her eyes.
I reached for her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She looked away. “It’s just… I think that’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Don’t waste your tears on me,” I whispered. “I’m not worth it.”
“I’ll decide what my tears are worth,” she shot right back and then defiantly stared me down as the first one fell.
Stunned, I watched another fall. I couldn’t take it — the guilt, the knowledge that she somehow felt bad for me, wasted her sadness on a life that meant nothing, did nothing but end other lives.
With a trembling hand, I reached out and caught the third tear. “I think that’s the first time anyone has ever voluntarily wept for me.”
“That just makes me want to cry more.”
“Don’t.” I smiled. “People will think you’re breaking up with me, and I don’t think my ego can handle the rumor that Chase Winter got dumped on the street by a girl wearing…” I tilted my head. “What is it you’re wearing? These clothes feel too old for you.”
“It’s called a business suit,” she scoffed and then frowned.
And that had just slipped. Sharing my last name.
Shit.
Not that she didn’t probably already know.
“My mom dabbled in fashion design.”
“Winter,” she repeated, and then her eyes widened. “WYN BOOTS?”
Did she just scream about boots?
Wow, weakness found.
“You want a pair?” I asked. Or ten?
“I’ve been on a waiting list for two years!”
“Then this is your lucky day.” I grabbed her hand without thinking. She squeezed it before I could pull away.
So I kept holding it as I led her to Gucci.
“Chase.” Darla knew all of us by our first names. We all loved clothes, but Sergio was a complete whore about what he wore; his shopping addiction was legendary. Last month he dropped so much money here that they sent him a Christmas ham and a set of keys to the store. Ridiculous.
“Hey, Darla.” I kissed each cheek without letting go of Luc’s hand. “I’m in need of some boots, jeans, leggings…” I shrugged. “…whatever she wants.”
Darla looked between the two of us and then down at our joined hands. “Anything for one of my favorite customers.”
“You’re just saying that because Sergio isn’t here.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “True, that man…”
“Hey, don’t talk about him in front of me. It hurts my feelings.”
She winked. “Alright, why don’t you go grab a cup of coffee. This may take a while. Makeup too?”
“Everything.”
Why not?
In two weeks I’d be gone, and she’d at least remember me as the guy who set her up with clothes instead of the guy who’d kissed her then tried to shoot her.
“I’ll leave you to it then.” I gave Luc a reassuring smile and went off in search of Starbucks.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“If it’s too easy — it’s probably harder than you think.”
— Ex-FBI Agent P
Luciana
I was so overwhelmed it was hard to think straight. Darla tossed so many clothes at me that I was drowning in them, and every single piece was so soft I wanted to throw them into a pile and take a nap.
He’d been gone two hours.
So I’d had two hours to overanalyze why he was doing this. It wasn’t just that he was being nice; it was like he was trying with me.
Was it because of last night?
Or was this just a trick?
Fatten me up, buy me things, make me feel safe, then pull the trigger? I hated how untrusting I was, but he’d proven he was unstable, right? So how did I know this was going to end well?
“Have you, um, known Chase long?” I fished while Darla handed me a long wool pea coat.
She didn’t look at me, just nodded. “Yup.”
“Years?”
“Does it matter?” She smiled sweetly, but I heard the message in her tone. Stop prying. Stop asking questions.
“I work for him — them.” I frowned to myself. “I’m the new lawyer.”
“Ohhhhh.” She sounded relieved. “I thought, well, never mind what I thought.”
“You thought what?” I put on the coat and examined myself in the mirror. It was a dark green and made my skin look flawless and my eyes more intense.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I crossed my arms.
“Look, don’t get angry. It’s just, they’re great guys. They…” She looked like she was choosing her words wisely. She couldn’t have been much older than me, but she looked wiser, so much wiser. “…they don’t bring women anywhere. Ever. And if their wives are here shopping, they have enough security that you almost wonder if the president is visiting.”
“Oh.” For some reason that deflated me.
“No, no, that’s a good thing!” she said encouragingly. “It means you aren’t a target. It means you’re safe.”
Safe. The word burned.
Safe.
Without his protection.
Safe.
I stared at myself in the mirror and whispered, “Safe isn’t a reality.”
“No,” came a familiar voice, “it isn’t.”
I sucked in a breath as the man from last night grinned at me through the mirror.
“Andrei,” I said his name coolly.
He clapped his hands. “Ah, so she remembers my name. I’m… honored.”
Doubtful.
I eyed Darla, but she was already walking away helping another customer. And when she turned back, she mouthed, “Sorry.”
Seriously?
Panicked, I made sure to stay in front of the mirror; there were too many people in the store for him to just take me in broad daylight, right?
“You look different.” He tilted his head. “I like it.”
“I don’t care what you like,” I said quietly.
His grin widened. He was younger than I but older at the same time. His icy stare probably had women everywhere throwing themselves at him, but they didn’t know what I did. He wasn’t one of the good ones.
“I’m surprised, you know…” He shrugged. “…that Chase would leave you alone.”
Make that three of us.
I tried not to look affected.
“That bothers you? That you’re… just as interchangeable as a light bulb?” He leaned in until his lips were close to my neck. “I could kill you without anyone seeing a damn thing… but I won’t. I don’t like killing pretty things. I came to warn you.”
“Oh?” My voice shook; my knees knocked together. “What’s that?”
“The man buying all of these clothes no longer has a soul. You cannot love what you cannot save.” He grit his teeth. “And you cannot trust a man who no longer trusts himself.”
I frowned. “You’re warning me about… Chase?”
“Like I said, I hate when pretty things get injured… and you…” He ran his hands down both my arms. “…are beyond beautiful. Do not trust him. When the time comes…” He bit down on my earlobe. “…fucking run.”
I gasped.
And then he was gone.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“Game. Set. Match.”
— Ex-FBI Agent P
Chase
When I got back to the store, Luc was sitting in the corner, teeth chattering, bags gathered all around her. Her cheeks were highlighted with something shimmery, and a nude lipstick decorated her kissable lips.
But she was shaking.
I set the coffees down and approached.
She jerked back as if I’d pulled a gun on her.
It stung.
And completely confused me.
“Luc?”
“Can we go?” she asked in a small voice.
And her hands were shaking.
“Darla…” I stood behind her. “…a word?”
She went completely still. And didn’t turn around.
“Look at me,” I said in a lethal voice.
She turned, her lips trembling. “Yes?”
“You’re going to tell me what happened, or I’m going to break two of your favorite fingers with the rings on. Imagine the swelling. Imagine the pain. They may even have to amputate. And I hate — I really hate — hurting people I actually like.”
She swayed and then looked down at her feet.
“Look. At. Me,” I said for the second time. I hated repeating myself.
She jerked her face to mine and whispered, “Petrov.”
“Fuck.” I ran a hand through my hair.
“Maybe you’d keep more employees if you protected them,” Darla said through clenched teeth. “We had no protection! He waltzed right in, touched her—”
“He touched her?” I roared.
Darla jumped back while Luc made a noise in the corner.
I was too angry to think.
I grabbed the bags and Luc’s hand and dragged her out of the store. When we got to my car, I made sure Luc was settled before I dialed Sergio.
“What’s up?”
“Gucci cameras on Michigan Avenue. I want the feed from the last hour. Send it to my phone.”
“Hello to you, too. Nice day isn’t it? How’s the family? Oh good, good—”
“Sergio—” I clenched my teeth.
“Fine,” he bit off. “Give me five minutes.”
I ended the call.
Luc started shaking next to me.
I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away.
So I reached again and didn’t let her.
I squeezed it tight.
When we pulled into the garage, I finally released it, only to see her run out of the car and into the house.
I slammed my hand against the steering wheel then punched it with my fist and yelled.
Maybe I would kill him after all.
After the line was dead.
Maybe I would add one more hit to my list.
Andrei Petrov.
For touching what wasn’t his to touch.