The way Sterling’s dark stare gleamed, making my insides twist, I was certain that we were both thinking about what happened in the office of his cabin after I overheard Reid’s voice. Just the memory recirculated my blood.
How could I be sore from whatever happened and yet want the man who was now seated beside me?
“Oh, that man is real,” Lorna said, “even when he works twenty-four seven.”
“Things have been busy,” Sterling replied.
“I know.” She looked at me. “And don’t expect to learn more than busy—like what it entails. I guarantee you won’t find out.”
My cheeks rose.
“Now,” she said, “what can I make for you to eat?”
“I can cook,” I volunteered.
“That’s great. Another day, we can cook together, but today, how about you let me do it? Having caveman over here carry you from counter to counter could get a little crowded.”
“I like her,” I whispered to Sterling with a giggle.
“That makes one of us.”
Lorna’s laugh filled the kitchen.
“Sparrow,” Patrick said, his footsteps preceding his entrance by milliseconds. As we both turned to another doorway, the opposite direction as we’d entered, Patrick’s eyes widened and feet came to a stop at the sight of me. “I mean, Mr. Sparrow.” He nodded my way, his blue eyes smiling. “Ms. McCrie, it’s good to see that you’re up. I didn’t realize...”
“Thank you, Patrick. I’m glad to be up. I just need someone to fill me in on what I missed.”
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
Lorna set a cup of coffee in front of me. “Did I hear you like cream?”
“Yes, thank you. I can do this myself.”
She shrugged. “Then what would I do?”
I turned back to Patrick. “The plane and getting ready to land, nothing after that.” My eyes opened wide. “It wasn’t another airplane issue, was it?”
I knew the answer before I finished the question. If it had been, I wouldn’t have been the only one attached to an IV with a doctor present.
“No, that wasn’t it,” Sterling said as he and Patrick stared back and forth, leaving me waiting for one or both to share information.
“Oh, I just remembered,” I went on, “we were going somewhere...an engagement. I was nervous.” I shook my head. “I really don’t recall more. Did we make it? What happened?”
There were more looks passed between the two men.
“Are you going to tell me?”
Instead of answering, Sterling stood, pushing the chair under the table and turning to Patrick. “Do you have something for me?”
“If we could bother you for a minute?”
“We?” I repeated. “Maybe one day soon I’ll meet the infamous Reid”
Lorna smiled. “Once you do, you won’t forget him.”
I grinned up at Sterling. “Yeah, I know someone else like that. So, Sterling....details?”
“I told you not to ask for details,” Lorna reminded me.
“This is different. It isn’t random. It’s about—”
Sterling’s lips came over mine, stealing my words and refocusing my attention. Once the kiss ended, his dark eyes shone inches away from mine, causing my pulse to kick up as I swallowed.
“No more questions. After you eat, we’ll talk about what happened.” He looked up at Patrick. “I won’t be gone long.” His expression lightened. “And don’t let Lorna fill your head with stories that aren’t true.”
Nodding, I realized that this was his way of saying that Lorna was safe, someone with whom I could talk. I wasn’t used to seeking permission and wasn’t sure I ever would, but it was nice to receive it.
“And you,” he said pointing to Lorna, “food. Remember, that’s what you do. No lies about things she doesn’t need to know. And above all, she’s not to walk anywhere until Dr. Dixon gives her clearance.”
“Did I hear my name?” Dr. Dixon asked, entering the kitchen and looking my way. “Imagine my surprise when I came back to the room after a call with the hospital and my patient had disappeared.”
Spank your ass, Sterling mouthed.
Though he hadn’t said the statement aloud, from the way the temperature rose and my cheeks filled with heat, it felt as though he’d announced it to the entire room. My increased pulse from moments earlier jumped another few notches. Smiling, I lifted my coffee cup to my lips and waited for a wink or any sign that he was joking.
It didn’t come.
I couldn’t decide if that made me nervous or anxious. Whatever it was, Sterling Sparrow could elicit a variety of emotions with simply a look.
Dr. Dixon and Lorna chatted about what food would be best for me to eat as Patrick and Sterling disappeared, leaving the direction Patrick had come. While Dr. Dixon helped herself to a cup of coffee, I decided I needed a tour. It wasn’t like we were in the wilderness. We were in downtown Chicago.
How big could this place be?
As I thought about that, I also tried to find words to explain to myself what was happening—here, in this apartment.
Normalcy.
Camaraderie.
Friendship.
In this place, with the absence of Genevieve Sparrow, there was a shift in dynamic, a sense that things were completely different than they had been with the staff at the cabin or on the plane.
The barriers that were present in those locations didn’t seem to exist here, even with Sterling. While each person had their role, they all worked together, looking after and caring for one another. It was as if while here, behind closed doors—or infrared technology—these people were more than colleagues, more than employer and employee.
They were a family.
It wasn’t the kind of family brought together by birth but by life.
Sterling had told me that he’d been to actual war with Patrick and Reid, that he trusted them implicitly. It seemed as though marrying Reid brought Lorna into that equation. If I were Sterling’s, as he’d proclaimed, it would also include me.
That realization enlightened and warmed me. A man like Sterling Sparrow wasn’t one-dimensional. He wasn’t all intensity and work. He had other sides, some that he’d shared with me and others that he shared with these people. This was his inner circle and he’d brought me here.
Of course, I loved the Nelsons and the way they’d included me. Yet I was still the one outsider, the one whose name was different. This gathering was different.
Could Sterling Sparrow be more than my lover and protector? Could he be my family?
Whoa, Kennedy, you’re making some big leaps.
Wait, no...Araneae.
I shook my head.
I didn’t even know my own name. How could I even guess at the future?
As the chatting around me continued, I shook the thoughts away. It was probably the drugs or whatever had happened last night. I wasn’t a little girl in need of a fantasy family. I was a woman with a full life even before Sterling swept in like a cyclone, disrupting everything in his path. Besides, by the way Genevieve Sparrow responded to me, I couldn’t foresee a welcome to the Sparrow family party in the future.
“Ms. McCrie, would you like breakfast or lunch?” Lorna asked as Dr. Dixon sat in the seat Sterling had vacated.
“Oh my God, it’s Monday,” I said, my thoughts of the Nelsons opening doors to my memories.
“Yes, it usually comes after Sunday,” Lorna said.
“I need to be at work.” I quickly stood, holding onto the edge of the table as the room slowly spun.
“Araneae,” Dr. Dixon said, her voice coming from a tunnel as she reached for my hand. “Please sit back down.”
Nodding, I did as she said. The little bit of coffee in my otherwise-empty stomach percolated. A flush of heat followed by a chill coated my skin in goose bumps. As I reached for my own upper arms I flinched. My right one, not the one that had the IV, was tender to the touch.
What had happen
ed?
Sterling
Patrick and I walked in silence to the elevator within my apartment. There was shit going down and yet somehow, I had to put aside the image I had in my mind, the one of me doing what I’d just threatened, my handprint reddening Araneae’s ass—make that plural, handprints. After what she’s been through, she wasn’t ready, but when she was, I was the man for the job. After disobeying my simple demands and drinking that drink, she should be happy if that’s the only thing I do.
She didn’t realize how important she was. Sneaking out on Dr. Dixon, the thought made my blood boil. What if she’d fallen on those stairs? The next picture in my imagination was of her at the bottom of the staircase, not standing but sprawled out—injured.
That was the problem with what I did, the life I lived. It wasn’t difficult for my mind's eye to conjure up gruesome images.
Where Patrick and I were headed wasn’t the elevator that connected my five floors to the outside world, not the same one that my mother rode up and thankfully, down. The one she and others rode connected us to the world. Not just anyone gained access to that elevator. If anyone unexpected made it past the well-paid and faithful security guards, Reid’s technology stopped their ascent before the elevator ever got close to the top of the building.
I should reconsider my mother’s clearance.
This elevator that we were about to enter was different—it transported us within the world we’d created within my five floors.
The doors were hidden behind a pocket door. Laying my palm on the sensor beside the doors, the screen came to life and the elevator opened. This elevator only had four options: P, A, 2, and G. The penthouse consisted of the two floors where Araneae and I now lived. Only the first floor of the penthouse was accessible from the elevator. ‘A’ stood for apartments, where Patrick, Reid, and Lorna resided. That particular level had been subdivided into three complete living spaces, each with multiple bedrooms, bathrooms, a kitchen, living area, and offices. Level A was only accessible from P, not allowing for guests or entertaining within their apartments.
It was all right. None of us were the entertaining type.
Though Patrick, Reid, and I did most of our business from the next two floors—both accessible from 2 on the elevator’s control panel—we each also had private offices in our own living quarters. ‘G’ was our direct route to our private garage.
Even the fleeting thought of the empty apartment on the same floor as Reid and Patrick’s made my chest ache. The loss wasn’t something I dwelt upon. Nevertheless, I’d come to acknowledge that the pain would never fully go away.
“Reid will add Ms. McCrie’s palm print to the security,” Patrick said as the elevator doors closed.
I shook my head. “No.” Although he didn’t question, I answered, “There’s no need. She isn’t leaving the penthouse without you or me, so she doesn’t need access to the garage. There’s no reason for her to go to your floor.” I rarely did. “And she sure as hell isn’t going into the work space.”
“Have fun with that conversation.”
My lips quirked. “Yeah, I probably will.”
“Are you going to tell her everything about last night now that she doesn’t remember?”
I ran my hand through my hair. “I don’t know. I was expecting a full-out battle, and now I have the option to let it slide. I hadn’t even asked her what she remembered. I was too happy that she was awake, walking, talking—oh fuck, you should have heard her with my mother.”
“Now that is a conversation I might enjoy.”
I took in his growing smirk. “What?” I asked.
“Happy looks good on you, Sparrow. It’s been—”
“Yeah, don’t get used to it,” I said, interrupting him, somewhat surprised I’d been the one to use that word. When was the last time? I shook the thought away. “Someone crossed us last night. I won’t be happy until that person or persons are no longer an issue.”
The elevator stopped, the doors opening to a stark concrete hallway with one steel door and another sensor.
“She’s blissfully unaware,” I said, considering what I was going to do. “Part of me wants to keep her that way. When we walked out of the club last night, before she collapsed I wasn’t happy with her for getting that drink or leaving my sight. She wasn’t thrilled with my response. I saw it in her eyes. And then when Annabelle made her announcement...damn, I don’t know if I want to fill in all those gaps.”
“She’s either going to find out from you or someone else.”
“Not if I don’t let her leave the apartment.”
“Do you want me to be honest?” Patrick asked.
“You’re going to tell me that she’d have something to say about that.”
“Has she asked about Sinful Threads?”
“She hasn’t. Shit,” I said, “with everything else, I haven’t even thought about it.”
“She will. That company is her life.”
He was right. I wouldn’t be keeping her in the apartment even though that was the safest option.
“Don’t worry about Sinful Threads right now,” Patrick went on. “I thought about it, and since I still have her phone, she...” He emphasized the pronoun. “...messaged Louisa and Winifred, telling them that she isn’t feeling well—it was probably the traveling. She hopes to be back in full swing by tomorrow but is available for emergencies.”
“Damn, you’re a lifesaver. Was there anything else?”
“Yeah, it’s about that Francesca guy at the warehouse here in Chicago. There’s something about him that I don’t like.”
During the few interactions I’d had with the man, he was more than willing to take my money at the expense of Araneae’s business. “I agree that he’s slimy. Let’s keep an eye on him and be sure he’s not the tip of some iceberg. Then...we’ll make some decisions on his future.”
“Future employment?”
“Future, period,” I clarified.
Patrick nodded with a grin. “Good plan.”
I placed my palm on the sensor near the door. The added security was necessary. We were entering the heart of our operation—the Sparrow outfit.
The steel door slid into the wall as our large work space came into view.
Immediately, my blood pressure lowered. No matter the chaos of the world, this room was my Zen. Everything here soothed me—the concrete floors, the large screens on the walls going up nearly fifteen feet, the multiple systems that constantly monitored anything and everything. I even liked the smell—concrete and technology. We were set up for everything. There were treadmills and free weights. Sometimes ideas and decisions came better with physical exertion. Because of that, there were also showers as well as a kitchen area. This giant space was our control central, the heart and soul of the outfit—reinforced and impenetrable. If necessary, we could exist on this floor for a long time.
Floor two, where we’d entered, was the securer level of the two working floors, accessible exclusively by our elevator and another one equally as protected that only connected it to floor one. Each of those elevators opened to a locked steel door like the one we’d just passed.
No one entered this floor but us.
This was where the three of us did whatever was needed to be done, no matter how filthy, unfathomable, or inhumane. This was where judgments were passed and sentences were decided.
Sparrow Enterprises, the company that excelled in real estate, had prime property on Michigan Avenue for everyone to see with thousands of worldwide employees and even more private contractors. That was where the upfront side of Sparrow resided. My assistants there were trustworthy—to a point.
The two Sparrow worlds didn’t mix—except in here where no one else could observe.
The underground world of Sparrow operated fully from these two floors of the building. The floor marked numeral one on the panel had a private second entrance to the outside. Others worked there also—crews and their leaders ultimately overseen by Reid and Patri
ck came and went. Meetings occurred. Floor one was where the administration met with capos and associates. These people came from all walks of life. Some stayed in the shadows while others walked in the daylight in front of the cameras. They were the people who pretended to run the city as well as those who wanted to.
Decisions that appeared to the world as coming from others were first run through us.
Though my decision was final, rarely did I disagree with Patrick or Reid. Their word was as good as mine.
It was an unspoken fact that Sparrow was the name that ran Chicago.
On occasion, people had forgotten. Reminders were a bitch. Those people didn’t forget again, if they were around to have a second chance.
It wasn’t uncommon to have many associates on the floor that we called number one. That was why it was only connected to our residences via this floor. While the underground world of Sparrow didn’t hand out W-2s at the end of the year, it had its share of well-paid employees. Everything that occurred there could be viewed from here. In this line of work, complete trust was earned not given.
Sterling
As our footsteps neared, Reid’s chair spun toward us. He’d been studying twenty screens with numerous readouts on each. His abilities when it came to technology and multitasking were truly unmatched. There was nothing he didn’t or couldn’t understand. If he found something unfamiliar, he learned it.
When I asked him questions or for clarification, he could rattle off verbatim definitions or complete manuals. What took others days or weeks literally took him hours. He wasn’t the world’s best conversationalist, but when you were hunkered down in a bombed-out school waiting to kill or be killed, having a quiet partner with a mind assessing every possibility was better than someone with the gift of gab.
Patrick and I’d learned that while Reid’s words were often few, the ones he spoke were important. The emotion he’d shown on the phone last night—through the car’s speakers—was a rarity, another example of how Araneae had gotten to all of us. The only other person who witnessed Reid’s emotion was Lorna. Though I was hesitant to recognize it at first, the two of them had something special. When she was near, he became someone different than the man who was one of my most trusted friends and colleagues.
Lies Page 4