I pull the dark blue gown out of the bag and cradle it in my arms. For some unaccountable reason, I feel as though I’ve seen it before. But that can’t possibly be true. What is it about this dress that feels so familiar? As the sun sparkles against the fine fabric, I realize what it is—the gown is the exact color of Lukas Roth’s eyes. He must have wanted us to match at the gala this Friday.
Eagerly, I shrug off my casual clothing and slip into the incredible dress that Lukas has picked out for me. I’ve never worn something so finely made, so obviously expensive. It feels almost daring, to have this rare fabric rub against my bare skin. As embarrassed as I am to admit it, I’m a bit turned on by the finery. I’m hardly materialistic, but there’s a sort of thrill running through me as I admire my reflection in the mirror. The dress fits so well, it’s almost eerie.
I make my way back downstairs to let Lukas admire his selection. As I come into view, my lover’s eyes gleam with admiration. I’ve never been looked at by a man that way before in my life. There’s lust in his gaze, but something else, too. Appreciation, and gratitude...and something that looks quite a bit like love, though of course that’s impossible. Deep friendship, I decide. That sounds about right.
“You look amazing,” Lukas says, his voice low and rich.
“Thank you so much for this, Lukas,” I reply, doing a little spin for his benefit.
He catches me by the hips and pulls me against him, laying a kiss on my forehead. It’s a remarkably tender gesture, for him, and I’m a little caught off guard. I look up into his face, searching for his usual, confident grin. But his expression has changed, since he’s walked in the door. Lukas looks worried, and alert, and more than a little anxious. What is going on in that beautiful head of his?
My gaze darts toward Thomas, who quickly looks away from me. His expression is practically a mirror image of Lukas’s. Some knowledge was passed between them while I was upstairs. They’re keeping something from me, and I don’t like it one bit.
I force a smile onto my face, lest they suspect my discontent. Whatever it is that they’re not telling me, I have to trust that they have their reasons. Lukas and I have promised each other complete honesty, after all. That means that he’ll fill me in eventually, when the time is right. As scary as it is, I have to put my trust in him, entirely. How else can I expect him to do the same for me?
The three of us stand in perfect silence, as things unsaid hang thickly in the air around us.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
-Lukas-
The day of Mother’s gala dawns bright and clear. I’m awake before the sun has risen fully in the sky, staring up at the ceiling of the annex bedroom. Beside me, Hannah sleeps fitfully. We’d fucked with new vigor the night before, my worry and tension rallying me to posses her as wholly as I could.
She’d met me there, riding me with a new, rich intensity that she probably couldn’t even explain, if called to. But still, we each spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, trying to pretend that we didn’t notice the other’s restlessness.
She knows that I’m keeping something from her, and it’s killing me to do so. But I need to get all my facts straight first, before we can figure out what our next move is. It seems to me that Hannah and I may have gotten ourselves tangled into a bigger mess than I can clean up on my own.
I wait until Hannah’s breathing slows and deepens. Finally, it seems as though she’s fallen into a somewhat steady sleep. I roll away from her, employing every measure of stealth I’ve managed to amass. I hate having to keep her in the dark, hate having to sneak around when all I want to do is be honest with her.
I’ve stopped thinking of Hannah as someone I need to keep at arm’s length. I want her to be my partner, my companion...but I don’t know how I can bring myself to do that if she might be in danger. How can I choose between having her in my life and keeping her safe, if it turns out that those two things are mutually exclusive?
No time to think about eventualities now. I have a someone to meet. Throwing on my black jeans and a gray woolen button up, I pad across the room. I take one last parting glance at Hannah, asleep in the bed we’ve come to share. Even while asleep, she’s stunning. Her blonde hair falls across her cheek, her features relaxed peacefully. It takes every ounce of will I possess not to roll her over and take her right then and there.
I hurry out of the annex, double checking the locks behind me. Until I get back, I want to know that Hannah is as safe as she can be. Looking up at my family’s home, I feel a heavy sense of foreboding. I still haven’t been able to bring myself to go back inside, not since Mother died. I skirt around the structure and head for the garage. As I make my way across the front drive, I hear the door of the house creak open. Thomas steps out into the barely lit morning.
“You’re coming back, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice knotted with anxiety.
“Of course,” I tell him, standing at the bottom of the steps, “I just need to clarify a few things. Will you be OK holding down the fort until I return?”
In response, Thomas produces a sleek handgun from behind his back. I nod my approval. Thomas has never been one to shy away from his duties to this family, no matter what that might entail.
“There will be a lot of strangers wandering the grounds today,” he says, “What with the gala, and all. I’ll be on the lookout, Mr. Roth.”
“That’s all I ask, Thomas,” I tell him, turning toward the garage. “And you know the rule of thumb?”
“Of course sir,” Thomas says, “Shoot first, ask questions later.”
“Good man.”
The butler slips back inside as I hop into my civilian sports car and tear off down the drive. The estate shrinks in my rearview mirror as I speed away. In a perfect world, I’d be spending the day remembering my Mother, organizing her memorial gala, ruminating on her memory like a good son. Instead, I have to tie up the loose ends of my latest hit as best I can before my entire life begins to fray. Not exactly the mourning period I had in mind.
My last client and I have arranged to meet in an all-night diner off the interstate. These mundane locations are actually the best for top secret meetings. Secluded groves and parking garages are too obvious. I’ve always preferred to hide in plain sight. Really, I’ve preferred not having to hide at all, but it rather comes with the territory of this occupation.
Maybe I need to consider a new career.
I pull up to Vivian’s Diner and affect an easy gate. Jukebox tunes hum softly through the long dining room as I push open the front door and make my way to the corner table. My client, a paunchy man nearing sixty, is already waiting for me.
“Good morning,” I say, sliding into the booth opposite him.
“Too early,” he replies. His eyes are bloodshot—whether from lack of sleep or crying, it’s difficult to say.
“What can I say?” I tell him, “I’m a lark.”
A slim-hipped waitress approaches our table with a sleepy smile. “What can I get you boys?” she asks, with the slightest hint of a Georgian accent.
“Western Omelet. Six pieces of toast. Hot coco with whipped cream,” my client says.
“Just a coffee. Black,” I offer.
The young woman scurries away, and I draw in a deep breath. “I need to know a little more about the man you had me take out,” I tell him.
“Should we be talking about this here?” he asks, his chins quivering fearfully.
“The target. What was his full name?”
“Bill. Bill Jackson.”
“And how did you know Bill?”
“I told you. He’s a family friend.”
“Are you friends with the rest of Bill’s family, as well?”
“Oh, sure,” my client says, “We used to have barbecues and everything together, back in the day. Before my daughter was even born.”
“Did Bill have any siblings?” I ask, my teeth gritted.
“Sure did,” my client says, “Two or three, at least. Two that I
met.”
“Were they...police officers too?”
“Just one. The youngest was sort of a trouble maker. Would have gotten himself thrown in prison a long time ago if it weren’t for that politician father of his.”
“What was his name, the youngest?” I ask.
“Uh...Something kind of unconventional. Tough-like. Slayer? Slade?”
“Sloan?”
“That’s it!” my client exclaims. “How the hell did you know that?”
“That’s not important,” I say, waving away this question. “Tell me...This family. You say that they’re well connected. That they look out for their own. Aren’t you worried about retribution from them?”
My client’s eyes fill with hopeless tears. “Oh, yeah,” he says, sounding defeated, “I don’t doubt that they’ll be able to figure out who ordered that hit. But what else was I supposed to do, huh? I knew where my daughter had gone off to. I knew, after everything Bill did to her, poor thing was brainwashed. When something happens to your child...nothing else matters. It’s like your whole world is just for shit.
The only thing that matters is punishing the people responsible for causing your kid pain. I don’t give a shit what the Jacksons do to me now. I doubt my wife will care if anything happens to me. She blames me for letting that monster into our house in the first place. My daughter won’t even come home, I know that. But even if I lose my life...I’ll know that that son of a bitch paid the ultimate price for what he did. I can’t tell you what it’s like, when someone messes with your kid. It changes you.”
“Don’t I know it,” I mutter.
“What’s that?” my client asks.
“Nothing,” I say. “But listen. You think there’s a pretty good chance that the Jacksons will be able to trace the hit to you. Do you think...they’re capable of finding me, as well?”
“You?” the client says, his eyes wide, “How would they do that? It’s not like there are any witnesses to testify against you.”
I hold my tongue, remembering the venomous look that young girl gave me as she stood over Billy’s lifeless body. No doubt that girl will run right to the Jacksons with every detail of my physique. She’s been bewitched by that family into thinking that monster Billy loved her.
After what Hannah’s told me about her ex, I have no doubt that he’s learned everything he can about me since she moved in. If he can put two and two together...but that’s impossible. Why would he ever suspect me of being a contract killer? I know how to hide my tracks. I know how to keep my job well away from the details of my actual life.
Still, with Hannah in the picture, he’s got way too much of a reason to be taking a close look at my life. I can practically feel his eyes on me, this man I’ve never met. I’ve got to make sure that he never discovers who it was that killed his brother. God knows what he would do if he ever discovered the truth.
God knows what he’d do to Hannah, if he ever found out.
“Here’s your coffee,” the waitress says, placing a steaming mug down in front of me.
“That’s OK,” I tell her, pulling a twenty out of my pocket, “I’m feeling mighty alert as it is. I’ve got to be off.”
“Wait a minute,” my client says, leaning over the table as our waitress happily pockets her massive tip and walks away, “I’ve got your money out in the car. All two million in cash. I had to sell three of my boats, but it was worth it. Don’t you want it?”
“No,” I tell him, standing up from the booth, “You need to take that money and run, my friend. I have a sneaking suspicion that your life has an expiration date on it, now that you’ve messed with this family. From what I know of them, they’re not to be crossed. Take your two million, start a new life somewhere else. Before it’s too late.”
Before he can reply I’m out the door. I hop back into my car and roar away from the diner, another two million gone. I need to cut it out with these pro bono cases. I do have a lifestyle to maintain after all.
My hands clench angrily around the steering wheel as I soar back toward McClain. If it weren’t for Hannah, this would have just been another job. I’ve taken out dangerous men from dangerous families before. No one’s ever posed a threat. But this Sloan character could blow my entire cover if he managed to milk some information out of Hannah. I hate to even consider that possibility, but abusive, manipulative people like Sloan have a way of getting what they want from their victims. She might give me up without even realizing it, if he gets to her. We’ll just have to make sure that never happens.
If Sloan has done his thorough research, as I suspect he has, he’s bound to know all about my CIA past. My father’s, too. From the way Hannah’s described him, he doesn’t sound like a dumb criminal. There’s a chance that he might be able to put two and two together. I’m not exactly the least suspicious character on the block—sitting in my extravagant estate, no job, no income flow that anyone knows about. An industrious investigator might be able to do some real damage, if he put his mind to it.
I press the gas pedal down as far as it will go. All I want is to be back home with Hannah. I wish I could say that my presence will keep her safe...but I know that that’s a fucking lie. Her life is infinitely more dangerous with me in it. Am I just being selfish and cruel, keeping her tied to me like this? What if she’d be better off getting as far away from me as possible?
But the very thought of casting her away is too painful to consider for more than a second. There has to be another way.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
-Hannah-
The estate is already crawling with people by the time I’ve gotten out of bed. Preparations for Gertrude’s gala are in full swing. Thomas oversees the many vendors as they transform the estate and gardens into a fairy land of our late matriarch’s devising. I have no doubt that Gertrude’s plans for her send off will play out beautifully. She deserves an event like this in her honor. I just wish that I could focus on her today, rather than my own anxieties. Even as I sit in the living room of the annex, nursing a cup of coffee, my mind is in a million other places.
Lukas was so quiet last night as we headed up to bed. We had an amazing night all the same, of course. I paid him back handsomely for his earlier attentions. Sensing the tension rippling through his body, I’d suggested a back rub. Lukas had taken me up on the offer, and I’d crawled on top of him, reveling at the position of power. As submissive as I typically am, it feels nice every once in a while to find myself on top.
I gave him a long rub down, lathering my hands in massage oil scented with the same lavender and honey as the soap Lukas had bathed me with. My hands had caressed each tight, sculpted muscle all along his powerful back, working out knots and aches as they went. Lukas responded to my touch at once, and I heard his breathing quicken against the pillow. I bore down even harder, using every bit of energy I could muster to give him release. But soon, it wasn’t just muscular tension that I was tending to.
Lukas has flipped over onto his back and seized me by the hips. I’d pitched forward, planting my hands on either side of Lukas’s wide shoulders as he tugged down the panties beneath my silken nightgown. He’d lowered me onto his stiff, staggering cock, the new position opening me up to him in an even deeper, more intense way than before.
Something wild had come over me, and I took what control I could. I bounced my hips against him, driving him as far up inside of me as I could. I could have sworn that he was going to break through me at any moment. Lukas’s fingers had dashed down to my clit, and I’d dug my fingers into his firm pecs as he rubbed me toward climax.
We fucked fast and dirty, full of urgent need for each other. I’d watched as Lukas’s face pulled into a silent howl, and came tremendously as he did. The feel of his surging cum filling me up had only amplified my own pleasure, and a uninhibited moan had ripped from my throat. We’d passed out together for a spell, temporarily spent by our exertion. But soon, we were waking and thrashing, each kept from sound sleep by the uncertainty that s
till hung between us.
I’d felt Lukas rise from the bed early this morning, but pretended to be asleep as he crept out of the room. Even knowing what his occupation really is, I worry every time that he disappears like that. Especially now that it seems like he’s keeping things from me. Whatever it is we’re doing isn’t going to work if he keeps me in the dark for much longer, that much is for sure.
Whatever is going on with Lukas is made all the more stressful with Sloan lingering at the back of my mind. Even though he was horrible to me, I still find myself worrying about him, in the wake of Billy’s death. I spend the morning trying to figure out whether or not I should reach out to him, offer my condolences. What do you do if your abusive ex-boyfriend’s brother is killed, send flowers or a card? There’s never exactly been a clear set of rules to follow when it comes to me and Sloan.
My eyes dart around the annex, checking for signs of Lukas. I have no idea when he’s getting home, but in the meantime...maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check in with the outside world? Just for a minute.
I set my coffee down and head upstairs to my bedroom. My belongings are piled in the corner, still packed up for the most part. I grab my purse and rifle through it, extracting my smart phone. It’s been turned off for God knows how long. Glancing over my shoulder, I turn on the device. At once a cacophony of sounds assaults my ear drums. I stuff the phone under a pillow until it’s stopped making noises, then hesitantly look down at the screen.
I’ve missed dozens upon dozens of calls, and not just from Sloan. Sophia and Dr. Perkins have been trying to reach me like mad, as well, but I don’t have time to worry about them right now. I open up my texts and let my eyes fall on the most recent message. It’s from Sloan.
“Billy’s gone,” the text reads, “I need you, Hannah.”
Inexplicably, I feel my heart crack open a hair. Bill was a goddamn slime ball, and I’m rather convinced that Sloan is a maniac, but after so many years of caring for the man, it’s hard to turn off my compassion towards him. Regardless of what a terrible person he is, he must be hurting right now. I wish there was some way I could help, but the idea of letting Sloan back into my life—even a little bit—is terrifying and utterly out of the question. No way in hell.
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