Game of Vengeance

by Amanda K. Byrne

  Cold seeps into my bones. “He’s only with me because he thinks I need to be protected?”

  “If it was something as easy as that, I wouldn’t be so worried. No, it’s more. You’re more than someone he needs to keep safe, Cass. You actually mean something to him.” His eyes lock on mine. “And from what you’ve told me, I’d say it’s been like that since the beginning, whether he wanted to admit it or not.”

  Chapter 12

  Getting out of Constantine’s alone is a challenge. He refuses to hand over the keys to his car, and I’m desperate for some time by myself.

  “Come on,” I whine. “I’ve already told you where I’ll be, and I’ll call you once I get there.” Since I’m still leery of trying to access any of my bank accounts, my plan is to go see my mother and borrow her credit card, then head to the mall in Century City. It’s like high school all over again, right down to bargaining for the car.

  “Dom will kick my ass for letting you out of my sight.” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares.

  “Did he actually ask you to babysit me?”

  “No,” he mutters.

  I smile prettily and hold out my hand, palm up. “Keys, please. I promise I’ll return your car in one piece.”

  He eyes my hand. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll take you. You’re missing a license anyway.”

  I planned to hit up the DMV before my mother’s office. The last thing I need is to be pulled over and ticketed for driving without one. Constantine’s expression can only be described as mulish, though, so I give up on the direct approach and move on to the sneak attack. “Fine. I’ll be over here, waiting patiently.” I wander over to the living room couch and flop down. I arch a brow. “Well? Are you showering or not?”

  He gives me a skeptical once-over, as if he’ll be able to discern my plan by studying my socks. To further the ruse, I pick up the remote, point it at the TV, and flip channels until I settle on some midday newscast. He turns and heads for his bedroom, muttering to himself.

  The moment the shower in his bathroom turns on, I race for his bedroom. Idiot has his keys sitting right on top of his dresser. I snatch them up and run for the front door. I pause with my hand on the doorknob to cock an ear toward the bathroom. He’s still in there. Good.

  My phone rings before I make it three blocks. I fish it out of my pocket and toss it on the passenger seat, grinning. Constantine must be furious right now.

  I call him back after I park and start walking toward the DMV. “Let me remind you of a few things. One, I used to kill people for a living. Two, I’ll be spending a lot of time at the mall. A lot. Most of my clothes were at Nick’s. I can’t imagine shopping is your idea of a good time. Three, does it really matter if I’m alone or with someone else? Isaiah’s determined. He wants me dead. It’s not going to matter to him if I’m alone or if I’ve got twelve bodyguards.”

  “You stole my car,” he growls.

  “Borrowed,” I correct. “I borrowed your car. Oh, and thing four—you’re not on bodyguard duty. If Nick threatens to kick your ass, just remind him he didn’t tell you to tie me to a chair. I’m at the DMV. I’ll text you a picture.” I hang up, open the camera app, take a picture of the sign next to the door, and text it to Constantine before walking inside.

  The wait is surprisingly short. I spend about twenty minutes squirming around, trying to find a comfortable position in the chair, then my number is called and I’m asked to smile for the camera.

  Temporary license safely stowed in my pocket, my phone pings, and I pull it out. Still at the DMV?

  I text Constantine back. A miracle happened. I’m done, heading for my mom’s. Text you when I’m there, promise.

  My last visit to Mom’s office didn’t end so well. And our relationship is still strained despite the efforts both of us put into mending it while I was recuperating. But there’s a reason I haven’t been to see her since I’ve been back, having instead chosen to call and let her know I’d made it home safely.

  Forgiving my mother for not standing up to my father is a work in progress, and some days there’s less progress than others.

  The drive from the DMV to Mom’s takes longer than I’d anticipated because I get lost. Constantine’s area of Los Angeles isn’t one I’m familiar with, and even with my phone calmly relaying directions in its tinny, mechanical voice, I still manage to get turned around.

  The first text comes in over an hour later while I’m circling the block to get back on the street I just left. I ignore it and concentrate on finding my way back to the route my phone insists will take me to my mother’s office.

  Another text comes in as I zip through a yellow light.

  A third while I’m squinting at street signs.

  It pings for the fourth time as I’m maneuvering into a parking spot, and I swear it sounds angry. His text reads like it too. Where the fucking fuck are you, woman?!

  I wait until I’m in front of the building that houses Mom’s firm and take a picture of her nameplate on the directory in the lobby. I text the picture to Constantine with an apology for taking so long.

  One final text comes in as I’m getting on the elevator. It’s a picture of Constantine’s middle finger, raised high. I probably should have called him instead of sending that last text.

  I call him as I’m stepping out of the elevator. “Sorry,” I say quietly. “I got lost trying to get here from the DMV. I don’t know your neighborhood.”

  “He called while I was waiting for you to text me back.”

  I press a hand to my stomach and slump against the wall. The ninja bats are waking, stretching and fluttering their wings. I just want to get this visit to Mom out of the way so they’ll calm down again. “You tell him where I am?” I cast a sidelong glance at the elevator, half expecting Nick to come striding out, all dominating and cool.

  “How long will you be at your mother’s?”

  “Maybe five minutes.”

  He sighs. “Text me when you get to the mall. If Dom starts bitching, I’ll beat on him for a while.”

  I tell him I will and hang up. The ninja bats kick into high gear as I approach Mom’s office. I didn’t call ahead of time to let her know I was coming, mostly because if I didn’t tell her, I could chicken out. I push open the door and step inside.

  The reception desk is empty, and I hurry down the hall. Mom’s door is half open, and I knock softly before easing it open.

  Her whole face lights up, her eyes fill with tears, and it’s hard, so damn hard, not to run bawling into her arms. She does it for me, hurrying around her desk and crushing me in a hug so fierce I’ll feel it for days. For a few brief seconds, she’s my mom again, the woman who cured all my hurts with a hug and a cookie.

  She sniffles, stepping back to give me a critical once over. “You look better.” She peers at my neck. “They did good work. How are you feeling? Is Nick treating you well?” Her mouth thins. “Although I can’t say I approve of my daughter living with a man ten years her senior.”

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Nick and Dad both thought I’d be safest with Nick. He put me in the guest room.” For one night. “And he’s going to help me find a place to live once the man who tried to kill me is out of the picture.” Not that I have any intention of asking Nick for help with that.

  I’m starting to think I might want to keep him too.

  Her mouth relaxes a fraction, and the bats flap harder. “Anyway, um, that’s kind of why I’m here.” I suck in a breath. “Nick’s house burned last night.”

  She blinks. “Burned?”

  “To the ground,” I confirm. I’m fairly certain it was unsalvageable. “We’re staying with his cousin for now until we can figure out a more permanent solution.”

  “You’ll come home.” Her tone brooks no argument. “I don’t believe Nick can do a better job of looking out for you than your own father.”

  The bats stop moving. “No.” That came out harsh. �
�Mom, I can’t. I went to see Dad the other day.”

  She jerks, like I’ve slapped her. “You saw your father?”

  I’m going to hazard a guess and say he didn’t tell her.

  “I went to ask for his advice on training. I was thinking of taking up Wushu again, maybe Krav Maga.” This is Mom. The one person who would likely understand. An ache grows in my throat, and I swallow against it. “I… I thought maybe he’d be different. That he’d act more like a dad. But he still sees me as his legacy, and a failed one at that. Unless he bends, I don’t want anything to do with him.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re a lie. I will try until my last breath to have a relationship with my dad that doesn’t revolve around the most effective way to inflict poison on someone.

  She cups my face, then pulls me into a hug. “He loves you, Cassidy. He does.”

  If that’s the lie she has to tell herself to stay with the man, that’s her business.

  I stay wrapped in her hug for another minute. “I like being with Nick. After everything I’ve done, being with someone I don’t have to hide that side of me from is kind of awesome.” I ease away. “He might be a lot older, but most days, I don’t feel like a college student anyway.”

  Her eyes narrow as her gaze skims over my face. “I’m not going to give you my okay, if that’s what you’re looking for. I still think you should be with someone closer to your age.” She glances at the clock. “I’ve got an appointment in a few minutes. Would you like to have lunch later this week?”

  “Sure.” I grin. “Now, can I borrow your credit card?”

  * * * *

  The mall’s not all that crowded. It makes it easier to track the man tracking me. Light brown hair, broad shoulders, though I’m too far away to make out his eye color. I peg him at about six foot. So far he’s followed me to American Eagle, Pac Sun, and to the car and back.

  He must be supremely bored. I’m bored. Replacing your entire wardrobe is probably most girls’ idea of a good time. But after an hour of trying on jeans and shoes and shirts, I’m a little sweaty and a lot cranky.

  I wiggle my toes in my new Chucks. They’re stiff, and my feet are starting to protest, along with my stomach. Shifting my latest shopping bag to my other hand, I trudge off toward the food court.

  The food court is crowded, mostly with mall employees and high school students skipping class. Another week or so, and the college kids will be getting out for the Christmas holiday. I’ll need to go by campus tomorrow and get a new ID, talk to the registrar about signing up for classes for next semester.

  Because I am going back to school next semester. Even if it means moving out on Nick and into my parent’s house for the duration.

  The line at the teriyaki place is the shortest. Carrying my tray, trying not to let my soda tip over, I wind my way through the tables, looking for an empty one. Preferably far away from the group of high school girls shrieking with glee. I set the tray on the table, dump my bags on the floor, and settle down to eat.

  There’s something so deliciously bad about mall teriyaki. I pop another bite of chicken in my mouth when I spot my stalker. He looks pained. As well he should. To maintain distance, he’s forced to take a seat near the screaming girls.

  I pull out my phone and send a text to Denise, asking if she wants to meet for coffee tomorrow, since I’ll be near campus. Then I check my e-mail. Mostly junk. There’s an e-mail from the registrar’s office, and I skim it. Out of curiosity, I check my other e-mail account. Only a few job requests, easily ignored.

  The final e-mail isn’t a request.

  It’s a picture of Denise and Charlie.

  Bright light halos their bodies, the two of them close together. She’s grinning up at him, and his arms are locked around her waist. It’s a fantastic picture, one that clearly shows how in love they are.

  A piece of chicken lodges itself in my throat. I reach for my soda and gulp it down, painfully aware of the icy numbness spreading through my limbs. Of the people who know this address, only a few of them would know, or have the means to find out, who Denise is to me.

  Forcing my fingers to work, I save the e-mail and sign out, going through my usual precautions to clear my trail. Appetite gone, I dump the rest of my meal in the trash and leave the food court. Everything is normal. Everything is fine. I haven’t just had someone threaten to knock the foundation of my world out from under me.

  Despite the secrets I’ve kept from her, Denise is my anchor. She’s what has grounded me all these years in the normal life I’ve tried to have. Now Isaiah’s sticking her on the front lines of a war she has no part in.

  I still have things to buy. Like running gear and sweaters. And underwear. I wander through the store, find the table with the seven-for-twenty-five deal panties and pick one of each, the small pieces of cotton bunching in my fist as I move from one end of the table to the other. Scenarios run through my mind, ways to get Denise out of harm’s way. None of them will work because all of them involve telling her who I am, what I’ve done, and after the way she looked at me the last time I saw her, I never want to see her look at me that way again.

  I take my purchases to the cash register and watch with a grimace as the total climbs. It’s only going to go higher as the day wears on.

  Nick’s waiting outside the store. The faint scent of cinnamon tickles my nose as I walk up to him, and I drop my bags and slide my arms around his waist. “Missed you this morning.”

  “Didn’t want to wake you.” Nick’s chest rumbles under my cheek, one hand pressed at my lower back, the other sliding into my hair. “Neat trick, stealing Con’s car.”

  I poke him in the side. “I borrowed the car. I’m returning it when I’m done.” I tip my head back. “Since he told me you didn’t ask him to stay with me, I figured it’d be all right. And I needed a few hours alone.”

  He dips his head, mouth brushing over mine in a barely there kiss. “You done with your alone time?”

  The only alone time I had was in the mall, and I spent most of it wishing someone were with me to break up the monotony. “Depends. If I say yes, are you going to drag me home?”

  One side of his mouth quirks up. “You forget I lost most of my shit last night too.” He releases me and bends down to pick up my bags, then holds out a hand. “Ready?”

  I stare at his hand. “Wait. You want to go shopping?” He wants to be seen with me? What’s next, we go to a movie? The feel of his hand around mine sends a surge of warmth up my arm.

  “I’d rather go to the dentist than be at a mall, but I need clothes.” He lifts our joined hands to his lips and kisses the back of my hand. “Judging from the number of bags in Con’s trunk, you’ve probably still got stuff left to buy. Might as well do it together.”

  “How did you get into his car?” I let him tug me along, and we head for the Gap. The Gap? The man can afford a house in Santa Monica, several cars, a condo in Manhattan Beach, and he shops at the Gap?

  “Spare keys. I gave him a ride,” he says absently. “How long has Tris been following you?”

  I glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, my stalker is lounging on the bench outside the store, fiddling with his phone. “Pretty much since I got here. He’s tried to stay in the background. Hasn’t done a very good job of it. Lack of people makes it easy to spot him.”

  He hands over my bags and flips through a rack of shirts. “Strange.”

  Tris’s continued presence reminds me of the e-mail. “I think Isaiah’s trying to use Denise to get to me.”

  “What makes you think that?” We stop in front of a wall of jeans, and he pulls several pairs free.

  “Someone sent a picture of Denise and Charlie to me. There was no message or caption or anything, and it was sent to my other e-mail address. Not my regular one.”

  He drops the pants on a nearby table and holds out his hand. “Show me.” I pull up the photo and pass him the phone. He studies it for a long while, ig
noring the sales person who comes over and cheerfully asks if we’re finding everything okay. “Denise’s last name?”

  “Lillard.”

  He digs his own phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and hits speed dial. “Need you to run a check for me. Discreet. You ready?” He gives me my phone back, his eyes on mine. “Denise Lillard.” He asks me, “You know where she’d be this time of day?”

  Relief rushes through me, and I lean on the table. “Class. She’s taking a class on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, but I don’t remember where it meets.”

  “We can find out.” A few more short, sharp commands, and he hangs up. “Bas will find her and report back.” He picks up the stack of pants, kisses my cheek, and winds his way through the tables to the fitting rooms.

  Shopping with Nick is surprisingly fun. Ogling his ass while he tries on jeans is even more fun. Tris following us is not fun. Nick’s shoulders get more and more tense, the line of them so straight it could double as a ruler.

  After several more hours, my feet hurt, and we both never want to see the inside of a mall ever again. But the day’s not over yet. Rather than go back to Constantine’s, Nick drives around for a while, the car quiet. He finds a little Italian restaurant in the middle of some random neighborhood and pulls into the parking lot. “This okay?”

  At this point, I’d go anywhere with him if it meant extending regular couple stuff a few more hours.

  We’re shown to a booth, and I slide in, Nick opting to sit next to me instead of on the other side of the table. He snakes an arm around my waist and I tip my head onto his shoulder, my bones softening as we sit, sealed off from the world.

  “I needed this,” I admit softly.

  “To shop?”

  I snort. “No. To do something normal.” Normal’s been on my mind most of the day. Most of the last few weeks, if I’m honest. “Hard to be normal with everything that’s been going on lately.”