Nocturne (Nightmusic Trilogy Book 2)

by Heather McKenzie

  “I spoke to you on the phone,” the female said.

  Sindra. I was fully awake now, and glad there was a gun at my waist and a knife strapped to my ankle. I removed the chair I’d shoved under the knob and undid the deadbolt, pulling the door open a crack to peer into the dark eyes of a caramel-skinned woman with polished, shining black hair. She had an exotic aura even though she was all business in a form-fitting pantsuit. The way her head tipped to the side, studying me as I did her before looking past me into the room, put me on edge.

  “I’m Sindra.”

  I hesitated. “I know who you are.”

  “Let me in,” she ordered.

  I had nothing to lose. I pulled the door open and moved aside. “Welcome,” I said, making a sweeping gesture into the disgusting room. Her musky perfume hit my nose as she sidled past.

  “Yeesh. What a—” Her breath caught when she noticed Oliver on the bed. Her stiff posture crumpled, but she quickly corrected it. “You’ve given him orange juice?”

  “Yup.” I nodded, motioning to five empty cartons piled into the wastebasket.

  “Dramamine?”

  I nodded again.

  She marched over to the bed and sat down, not seeming to care about the nastiness of the linens encountering her expensive clothes. She lifted Oliver’s hand and took his pulse, holding his wrist long after thirty seconds had gone by.

  I cleared my throat. “He’s been on a pretty wild ride. At first, he tried to kill anything and everyone around him, and then a fever took hold with some gnarly coughing fits. I’m not gonna lie. I’ve been pretty worried about him.”

  “Me too,” she said softly.

  The polished beauty rose from the bed, trying to not seem affected by Oliver’s appearance, but her voice had given her away, I could hear a tremble in it.

  She extended her hand to me, her grip firm. “Nice to meet you,” she said, looking me straight in the eyes. “I work for Henry Lowen, but I have come on my own. He does not know I am here.”

  “I’m Luke,” I said, tentative to shake her hand. “I’d say nice to meet ya, but I’m not sure about that yet.”

  “You’re the man Kaya left Oliver for, correct? You are working with The Right Choice Group?”

  I realized I felt embarrassed about my previous employer. “I’ve since resigned. Kidnapping isn’t my thing.”

  Sindra studied me, pursing ruby lips. “Yes. I can see where it would probably be detrimental to a kidnapping mission to fall for your target. It’s amazing you took Kaya right out from under my nose, though. Your scheme was well executed. If you are ever looking for work—”

  I cut her off. “Why are you here?”

  She put a manicured hand into her pocket and produced a bottle of pills. “Oliver was unable to complete his duties, and I am supposed to retrieve him.”

  I was pretty sure there was no way Oliver wanted to go anywhere without finding Kaya. I was also pretty sure he wasn’t going to be given a choice; I’d heard all about Sindra and what she was capable of.

  “You don’t own him.”

  She laughed. “Ha. Yes, I do.”

  My hand went to the gun at my waist.

  Sindra noticed the threat but appeared unaffected. “But,” she said, holding my gaze, “I have a different plan.”

  “I seriously don’t care about your ‘plans’. I kept Oliver alive, so now you tell me…where is Kaya?”

  She put a couple of pills on a spoon she’d plucked off the floor, and then began to grind them with the butt of the TV remote. “Don’t worry, she’s safe. Under the circumstances, I think it’s best we leave her exactly where she is.”

  “Which is where—with that Ben Smith?”

  “Hmm… not really. But sort of.”

  I pressed. “And under what ‘circumstances’?”

  “Well, I have come to realize she’s no longer pregnant with Oliver’s child, so that part of Henry’s plan has been obliterated. By the looks of you and the effects of Oliver’s poor decisions, the chance of that happening organically again is slim to none. So, that means Henry would have to resort to medical intervention to get an heir from Oliver and Kaya, and I don’t agree with the ethics of that.”

  First, I was surprised this woman had ethics, but then I realized what I was hearing. “Whoa… wait a minute… Kaya’s pregnancy was planned?”

  “Yes. Well, orchestrated might be a better word.”

  “Why?” The thought of Kaya being manipulated twisted my insides into a swirling rage.

  Sindra kept crushing the pills on the spoon, adding a bit of water. “I guess there is no harm in telling you since you have Kaya’s best interest at heart, as do I. You see, Luke, Henry is Oliver’s legal guardian. If Kaya and Oliver give him an heir to dispose of, Henry has the means to inherit all that belongs to Kaya.”

  I felt sick. “Dispose of… as in… kill?”

  “Kill. Murder. Whatever you want to call it,” Sindra said flatly.

  “He would do that? To his own grandchild?”

  “Yes. And his child. And… Oliver.”

  Ah… the part that wasn’t sitting right with Sindra; she had a thing for Oliver.

  “What exactly belongs to Kaya?” I asked, then wished I hadn’t.

  “More than you could possibly imagine.” She parted Oliver’s lips, her voice soft as a kitten as she put the spoon to his mouth. “Oliver is oblivious to all this by the way. He’s suspects he’s been used, but he doesn’t know why.”

  An unsettling thought rattled my mind. “Oh my God. Doesn’t that mean Kaya and Oliver are brother and sister?”

  “Yes.”

  Holy shit. “And Kaya…does she know?”

  “She didn’t—obviously—but she might now. We think one of her handlers found out and sent her an email. But no amount of torture has prompted him to divulge any specifics.”

  “Torture?” The room suddenly grew very hot and I didn’t want this strange broad sitting next to Oliver. She talked about torture and murder so casually it made my hair stand on end.

  “This is insane. What part do you play in all this?” I asked, wondering if I might do a little torture of my own if that was what it took to find Kaya and keep her away from these crazy people. Apparently, to protect Oliver, too.

  Sindra put water to Oliver’s mouth. Her hand grazed his cheek in a show of affection I suspected was being greatly suppressed. “I’ve watched Kaya grow up,” she said softly. “I’ve played a part in the lockdowns and the fake abduction attempts that bonded her to Oliver. I’ve organized her security and followed every instruction Henry has given me to keep her safe from his enemies—real and fake. I know who Henry Lowen is—sick, twisted, ruthless… and I still have more loyalty to him than I have to my own mother. But the murder of a baby, his own child, and… Oliver? No. That’s where I draw the line.”

  “But torture and manipulation are okay?”

  Her gaze on me was unsettling. Cold. “Of course,” she said and rose from the bed. Smoothing the front of her shirt, she headed for the door. “Thanks for the chat, Luke. The medicine I gave him should help, but don’t leave him alone for a few more days yet.”

  I was so stunned by what I’d heard it took a second to gather my thoughts and get my feet moving. Lunging for the door, I blocked the exit. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me where Kaya is.”

  Her eyes lowered into a glare that actually made me uneasy. “She’s safe. That’s all you need to know.”

  Before I could stop myself, my hand was around her neck, not cutting off her air but squeezing just enough to let her know I was serious. Could I hurt a woman? Probably not, but I felt crazed and desperate enough to try to scare her. “Tell me,” I hissed, feeling the world slow down, hearing her breaths become long inhales as the blinking of her eyes took moments to complete.

  Oliver muttered her name. He told me to let go. Sindra had remained completely calm and unaffected by the threat to her life, staring me down like at any moment she might ri
p my eyeballs out, until her name passed Oliver’s lips. Then a tremor of weakness ran through her.

  Oliver struggled to sit up. “Please, Sindra…tell me where she is.” His voice was frail. “And Luke, back off.”

  Oliver seemed clearheaded. I didn’t want to upset him, so I released my grip.

  Sindra backed away, rubbing her throat with hatred in her eyes. I expected a fight. For her to lash out and show me why she was so intensely feared. Her feet were spread, muscles taut in her neck. Damn it, I couldn’t hit a chick.

  “Sindra. Tell me,” Oliver begged.

  His desperation made her shoulders slump. She sighed heavily, and the desire to fight left her eyes. She straightened up and turned to face Oliver, valiantly trying to maintain her composure. “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

  Oliver tensed. “Why?”

  “Because—” Sindra paused, as if what she was to say next would hurt him. “She’s happy.”

  All the air left my lungs. Oliver’s, too. It was like we were punched in the gut at the same time.

  “Lying. You’re lying,” Oliver spat, and I quickly checked to make sure those phone cords were handy if I had to tie him up again. “Either you have no idea where she is, or you are going to take her back to Henry without me. Is that it, Sindra? You want me out of the picture now? How dare—”

  A cough stole his words. When he finally got his breath back, his hand came away from his mouth with splotches of bright red. This made Sindra fold. It took her a while to put her cold and unfeeling expression back on.

  “I hate to do this,” she said.

  From her pocket, she withdrew a familiar object—Kaya’s silver pendant. The strange red gem caught the sun as it dangled from her fingers, swinging like a pendulum on a clock.

  “I took this from Kaya while she lay in the arms of another man,” she said flatly. “I watched her, happy and carefree, and I realized that’s how she should be. So I’ve decided to let her go. She’s never had a life, Oliver, none. And now she’s living freely with people who care about her and will protect her without bars on her windows or intentions of killing her for money. She doesn’t need you. Or… you,” she said, pointing a finger at me. “You're nothing but a two-bit criminal, and not even a loyal one at that.”

  My damn knees just about gave out.

  Oliver lunged for the necklace in Sindra’s hands. He held it for a moment before slamming it on the nightstand. With the TV remote, he began to smash at it madly. His arm delivered such force the top of the nightstand broke in half and began to crumble. Fists flying, he was a madman again. I was about to get the phone cord…

  “That’s enough, Oliver. Stop it,” Sindra said calmly.

  And to my surprise, his hand froze in midswing.

  “Put your hands in your lap.”

  He did.

  “Now, breathe.”

  Oliver drew in raspy breaths. He sat frozen in place, chest heaving, limbs hanging at his sides, more confused than when he had a fever. Among the thousand other questions raging through my mind, now I wanted to ask what sort of hold this woman had on him.

  But enough talk.

  I steadied my gun on her.

  “Just tell us where she is,” Oliver hissed. “Tell us or I’ll have Luke shoot you.”

  “Ha!” Sindra laughed. “You know, I could demand you leave Kaya alone and then just kill your new pal Luke and be done with this mess. But the bloke kept you alive, and I’m feeling generous today. How about I just give you proof why you should stay away from Kaya?”

  Sindra held up a cell phone, and then pushed play on a video. She angled the screen, so Oliver and I could see…

  And there she was. My dark-haired beauty. Half-naked. On a beach. A moonlit lake shone in the background and a campfire roared on a beach. A man put his arms around her after draping a blanket around her shoulders, and she was laughing like I’d never heard her laugh. There was a big smile on her face as water dripped from her skin and hair to her feet. She fell to the sand with this man, both laughing. Wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Sindra was right. Kaya was… happy.

  My chest caved. The walls closed in.

  “Kaya deserves a normal life,” Sindra said, brushing past me toward the door. “Here is your chance to give it to her. If the both of you stay away from her forever, it would be the best, for all of you.”

  She smoothed the front of her shirt and squared her shoulders. “Oh, and Happy Halloween.”

  Then she was gone.

  Kaya with another man was an axe to my chest. It hacked my heart to pieces. I was in actual, physical pain.

  Barely aware I was even going through the motions, I found a different motel, dragged Oliver out of the truck, and got him onto a clean bed. Exhausted, I sank into a chair by the window. I stared out at a parking lot, a bleak highway on the edge of a small town, and day turned to night.

  I couldn’t block out the images on Sindra’s phone, or the words on the note that were now repeating endlessly in my head. Kaya was happy. It was obvious on her face and in her voice. I wanted that more than anything for her. And if I had to let her go so she could have that, I would.

  But it would kill me.

  I shuddered. A violent tremble shook my soul at the thought of not having her in my life, because it would be meaningless if I had to go through it without her.

  “What time is it?” Oliver asked.

  Snow sparkled under the sparse streetlights and icy breaths of wind crept through the edges of the shoddy window frame. I pulled my eyes away long enough to look at my watch. “Four in the morning,” I replied. My throat hurt.

  The floor shook. Oliver forced himself off the bed. “We’re getting a storm. Damn it,” he said, the deep timbre returning to his voice.

  I knew what he was thinking—who was soothing Kaya? Holding her through an anxiety attack?

  “Did the video give you any clues to where she might be?” he asked.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. The room spun madly; the chair beneath me became a roller coaster and I was about to derail.

  “Luke?” Oliver’s voice had lost all the aggression it once had.

  I couldn’t answer him. My throat had tightened up, along with the desire to either curl into a ball and die, or start swinging madly at everything around me.

  “Geezus, kid, you don’t think what Sindra showed you in that video was real, do ya?”

  I couldn’t nod my head. It was cemented in place to my shoulders.

  Oliver sighed. “Kaya was drunk. I could hear it in her voice. That’s why she was laughing. She’s not happy, nor has she fallen for some other bloke. I know this girl. I sat at her bedside while she was sick. Nursed her through fevers, chicken pox, and deaths in the family. I’ve watched her grow from a kid into who she is now. I know her. What you heard was her scared to death, trying to cover it up with a few giggles induced by a lot of booze. That’s all.”

  Oliver was giving me a ray of hope. But it wasn’t bright enough. “What if…. what if she really is better off where she is? What if the best thing we could do for her is give this all up and just leave her alone?”

  Oliver winced. “No. She needs us. I don’t believe she’s better off, Luke. I can’t believe that. Because then… I’d have… I’d have…”

  He paused. I finished his sentence because I felt the same. “Because then you’d have nothing to live for.”

  Oliver’s hands dropped to his sides. He stared out the window, too. I could see his reflection. The muscled, stubborn beast was crumbling, just as I was.

  The snow fell harder, whipping around in the sky. I didn’t move. Neither did Oliver. For what seemed like an hour, all we did was breathe.

  Then Oliver finally broke the silence. “Sometimes, I wonder if everything I feel for Kaya is… completely real.”

  I turned to look at him, shocked by what seemed like a painful confession. “What?”

  “I mean, I love her. I would do anything for her—die for he
r—that I know deep in my heart. But this extreme, all-consuming addicted feeling I have for her… is that all me? Or did Henry create that somehow?”

  Oliver’s question dangled precariously in the motel room. I knew what he meant; I watched how Sindra controlled him with nothing but a simple command. I recalled her words—Oliver is oblivious to all this. He suspects he’s been used… Now for me, personally, if someone could give me a reason why the crushing pain in my chest should let up, I would want to hear it. Oliver could have easily had his feelings orchestrated.

  But, we both felt the same way. And my all-consuming desire for her wasn’t courtesy of Henry Lowen.

  It took every bit of energy left in my body to answer Oliver. “I don’t think it matters. You feel what you feel, and there’s no changing that. I mean, yeah, by the things Sindra was saying, it sounds like you were heavily manipulated. I mean, fake abduction attempts? Wanting you to get her pregnant to use your child to get control of whatever it is the sick bastard wants control of?” Oliver’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped—he didn’t know that. “Henry Lowen is sick enough to abuse your love and loyalty—which most certainly is real—and use it to his advantage. All I know is you’re a good guy, Oliver. You don’t deserve to be used for any reason, and you don’t deserve to doubt or question your very reason for living.”

  Oliver took a moment to process this. A rogue morning ray of sunlight peeked through the clouds and into the room, then disappeared back behind the grey. “I think you need some rest,” he finally said, and reached for the blister pack of dramamine on the table. Popping two caplets into his palm, he held them out to me. “Take these. It will help you sleep.”

  There was strength back in him. I stared hard at his outstretched hand, too weary to argue, so I just shook my head. I would stare out the window until my eyes melted out of their sockets, and maybe the axe in my chest might obliterate me completely.

  The storm raged.

  My eyes throbbed.

  Another hour passed.

  As my body began to melt into the abyss, two massive hands found their way under my armpits and I was lifted. With no strength or fight in me, I was removed from the chair.