by AC Arthur
“I’m actually flying out first thing tomorrow morning,” Dane had replied smoothly. “And if you two will excuse me, there’s a phone call I need to make before the new year rings in.”
Emmet had chuckled. “Gotta call your lady, huh? I told you it wasn’t normal for her not to be on your arm. No matter how new the relationship is, if the woman is special to you, she should be with you at all times. That’s why I keep my lovely Zera, close.”
As if to punctuate his words, Emmet pulled her closer to him—if that were even possible. The scent of his cologne almost choked her and she could feel the gun holster he wore beneath his tuxedo jacket.
“You are absolutely right,” Dane stated, his gaze locked on hers. “Perhaps my lady friend is not as special as I thought she was.”
Zera wanted to cry. Well, not really. Tears were not something she allowed often. It showed a vulnerability she couldn’t afford to share with anyone. Still, a part of her felt as if it were crumbling at Dane’s words. She began to pant as it became harder to breathe.
With one final look of disdain, Dane turned his attention to Emmet and extended his hand forward.
“Great party, my friend,” Dane said to Emmet. “Next time I’m on this side of the pond, I’ll be sure to get in touch with you sooner.”
“You do that,” Emmet replied as he accepted Dane’s hand for a shake.
Emmet released his hold on Zera to lean in and embrace Dane before saying, “Safe travels, bro.”
“Thanks, man. You be good over here,” Dane replied as he pulled back.
“Zera,” Dane said tightly. “It was a pleasure.”
“Yes,” she replied in a breathy whisper. “A pleasure.”
Because it had been. Every second of the last sixty days that she’d spent with him had been new and refreshing, passionate and rewarding, and something Zera hadn’t wanted to lose. But she had, she’d thought as she watched Dane walk away. She knew that she’d lost him and there hadn’t been anything she could do to prevent that from happening.
Even now, four years later, her heart still hurt with that thought. She slammed her palm on the steering wheel cursing the tears that threatened to spill. There had been no point in crying over Dane Donovan back then and there certainly wasn’t one now. Nothing had changed. Her reasons for not telling him the truth back then were only exemplified now. Emmet may be dead, but Hiari was still missing. And as long as that was the case, Zera wasn’t free to pursue any type of relationships. Even the delectably physical one she’d once shared with Dane.
It was almost eleven by the time Zera finally pulled into the car park where she routinely parked her car. Two days after Emmet’s death, she’d moved out of his luxury apartment in le Figaro with the bag of cash she knew he kept in a locked trunk at the back of his closet. There was a mixture of U.S. Dollars and Euros and after she’d booked herself a hotel room, Zera had taken the time to count it all. The total was 1.5 million. One month later, Zera checked out of the hotel and signed a lease for a studio apartment in the Heart of St. Germain, in Paris’s 6th Arrondissement located on the River Seine. Zera loved this area which had a reputation for being the home to famous artists and writers. For her, it was the charming streets, historic architecture, and antique shops that held her attention. It was the calm to the never-ending storm of her reality.
The rain had slowed to a quiet drizzle and she huddled beneath her small umbrella as she speed-walked down the block to her building. It dawned on her at that moment that she actually looked a mess and had looked this way when she’d seen the one man that actually made her give a damn about her looks. Dane was the absolute last person she’d expected to see when she’d decided to step outside earlier this evening. So the black polka dot tennis shoes, black yoga pants and gray half zip shirt from her college alma mater—Tuskegee University—she wore would now be the last thing he remembered seeing her in. She’d left her hair loose because she’d felt like styling it and she wore no make-up or accessories. Still, Dane had come close enough to almost kiss her.
The memory of how close they’d been inside the museum warmed her even as the chilly rain continued to fall. Snapping the umbrella closed and ducking into the small lobby area of the building, Zera shivered. She raced up the single flight of stairs and down a short hallway to the door of her apartment. Pulling her key from the chain she wore around her neck and had tucked into her shirt, she unlocked the door, stepped inside and froze.
Something wasn’t right.
Zera was certain she had switched off all the lights when she’d left the apartment earlier, but now, the overhead hanging lamp near her desk was on. She moved very slowly, bending her knees until she was in a squatting position. Her eyes continued to scan the room as her hand moved to lift her right pant leg. The bed was about six feet across from the desk. The traditional handmade Maasai quilt her grandmother had given her when she’d moved away to college was still neatly smoothed over the queen-size mattress. A short distance to the left was her kitchen. The tea kettle and mug she’d used before leaving were still on the counter. But next to it now lay a long-stemmed white rose.
Zera unsnapped the sheath just above her ankle and slowly slid the knife out of its holder. She gripped the handle in the palm of her hand and came to a stand. On the other side of her bed, a dresser and two barrel chairs were against the orange painted wall with two windows. Both windows were still closed, raindrops peppering the glass. She looked up—not that she expected an intruder to be above her clinging to one of the thick dark brown beams that crossed from one side of the room to the next, but just as a precaution. Moving quietly Zera checked the closet and then the bathroom. Returning to the main room of the apartment she looked around again before falling to her knees and pushing the dust ruffle up so she could peek under the bed.
This time when she stood Zera sighed loudly before sitting on the side of the bed. She still held the knife and finally lowered the hand it was in to rest on her thigh.
It was starting.
Again.
Chapter 3
Debare Adebayo dropped to his knees and pulled the black lockbox he traveled with from beneath the bed in his hotel room. With a key he kept on a rope tied around his ankle, he opened the box and retrieved his gun and $7500 in cash. Closing the box and pushing it under the bed, he lifted the sweatshirt he wore and tucked the wads of cash into the waistband of his jeans. He stood and checked the gun for bullets, before slipping that into the back of his pants and pulling his sweatshirt down.
He grabbed his cell phone off the bed where he’d dropped it when he came in a few minutes ago, and checked for messages. None.
Debare shook his head. He had no doubt that sonofabitch would make contact tonight. He could feel it in his bones. Cursing, Debare went to the windows and yanked the string that would close the blinds. It didn’t seem to completely work as a gap in the center remained open for anyone to see through. Anyone meaning, the person that he was certain had been hired to kill him.
That’s how they worked. You either did what they said, gave them everything they wanted, or died. There were no other options. And Debare had failed. Sort of.
Moving into the bathroom, Debare retrieved the backpack he’d hung on the hook behind the door. It fell from his hand and he swore while bending down to pick it up. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
He’d done everything that was asked of him, including some things that were repercussions of the decision he’d made.
Debare was born to be a king. His father had told him that from the time he could walk. He was meant to rule, to own land and to live prosperously in Ongata Rongai, the area in Nairobi where his family was from. But after his father became sick and suddenly died from an incurable disease, Debare’s world took a dramatic turn. He was no longer the next in line to inherit his father’s land, as that land was taken from them by the financial institutions that assisted in keeping their people in a state of suffrage. Months later his mother had worked he
rself to the point of sickness and combined with the grief of losing his father, succumbed as well, leaving sixteen year-old Debare on his own.
Believing there was nothing for him in the region, Debare left Nairobi and ended up in Nigeria, where he met a man named Abu. That meeting changed Debare’s life and for a while, Debare thought it had been changed for the better.
Tightening his grip on the bag, Debare pushed the bathroom door open once more and took a step into the room. It was the last step he would ever take.
The hand grabbed his neck quickly, pulling him further into the room as he sputtered to speak. He was tossed onto the floor, the backpack falling from his fingers. Looking up into the face covered by black cloth wrapped completely around the intruder’s head so that only the eyes were revealed, Debare attempted to scoot across the carpeted floor. He pushed a hand behind his back and had just grabbed the handle of his gun when the glint of the machete’s blade came down quickly.
What was she doing?
This was foolish and Zera knew it.
Yesterday was a chance meeting. It wasn’t anything like fate or some old African proverb her mother and grandmother would recite. The world was a big place, if two people could meet among billions and experience sixty days of unimaginable pleasure, then it was just as likely that those same two people could meet again four years later. Right? There was nothing strange going on here—at least nothing that had to do with Dane.
The fact that she’d awakened earlier than usual this morning and immediately resumed her search for what Dane had been doing this past year, why he might be back in Paris and—most importantly—where he was staying, was not a result of her still pining for this man. She’d had him, so there was no curiosity to appease. He had been the one to leave so there should have been no guilt to carry. Now, he was back and they’d managed to be very civil to one another. All was well.
And still, hours after she’d first logged onto her computer, Zera continued to search.
There had been some trauma in Dane’s life since she’d last seen him. His mother had died. Stock in Imagine Energy Corporation maintained stability, even in the U.S.’s present economic state. There were pictures of him at a beautiful double wedding in Napa Valley and then months later at an economic development summit in Washington, D.C. In every picture he looked the same. No, that wasn’t true. If it were humanly possible, he actually looked better. Whether he was wearing a tuxedo, designer suit or jeans and a blazer, Dane Donovan was a very attractive man.
It was a wonder that had not been the first thing that pulled Zera to him. When they’d met at The Louvre four years ago, she’d been far more attracted to his keen eye for detail and how he’d been drawn to the same types of art that she’d always admired. His voice, the build of his body, the ease with which he moved into a space and totally dominated it with his presence, was just icing on the cake. And after two dinner dates, when she’d willingly joined him in his hotel room and eagerly lay in that bed beside him, she knew she was hooked. There was nothing she’d wanted more than to wake up next to him every morning and fall asleep beside him every night.
Nothing, except to find Hiari.
Her younger cousin had been kidnapped from school in Samburu, just about five years ago. Zera made a vow to her family that she would find her and that she would not return to Kenya without her. All these years later that declaration still weighed heavily on Zera’s heart. She believed that Hiari was still alive. She had to believe it. If not, she would have let her entire family down and that wasn’t something Zera thought she could live with.
Dane was staying at the Novotel Paris Centre Tour Eiffel. Zera smiled as the reservation finally popped up on her screen. One of her well-hidden talents was hacking. It was illegal, no matter which country she was in, which was why she’d never shared with anyone that she was so good at it. Novotel wasn’t the most high-end hotel in Paris. Zera had graced the majority of them during her time with Emmet, and she was certain that Dane could have afforded much better. She wondered why he was staying there, just as she still had not found out why he was here.
Well, she decided after shutting down her computer, she was going to get some answers. And she was going to give him an explanation for what happened all those years ago. Of course it wasn’t going to be the total truth, it couldn’t be, even now. Especially now. But she felt like she had to say something. She did not have the opportunity back then, and she wanted to now. Hopefully, if she could at least get some of this off her chest, she could finally move on from him. Hopefully.
Zera waited in the lobby for two hours. She’d read newspapers, went into the café to grab a cup of coffee and then returned to the lobby to wait a while longer. Slipping 25 euros to a member of the cleaning staff alerted her to the fact that Dane was still in the room. Now, it was just about three in the afternoon, he would have to leave his room at some point.
She rubbed a finger over the rim of the now empty cup and kept her gaze focused on the bank of elevators. Why didn’t she just board an elevator and go to his room? Would that make her look desperate or slightly insane? If Dane wanted her to know where he was staying, wouldn’t he have told her last night? Wouldn’t he have invited her back to his room as he’d done years ago?
Questions rolled through her mind like a busy subway train. Her phone was in her front pocket on vibrate. She resisted the urge to pull it out and check the time again. Maybe she should find another cleaning person and ask them to check Dane’s room again. Maybe he’d slipped out while she’d been at the café.
Maybe this was ridiculous and she should just get up and go back to her apartment. She had more than enough to do there. Staking out Dane Donovan just so she could tell him a partial truth as to why she’d let him walk out of her life with no explanation wasn’t a priority. Or at least it shouldn’t be. Not for her. But for Dane? He’d asked her last night why she’d chosen Emmet over him and the look in his eyes as he’d waited for that answer said he really wanted to know. He deserved to know.
Zera inhaled deeply and stood as she exhaled. She went to a trashcan near the front desk and reached into her pocket for her phone. She would call Dane’s room and tell him that she was downstairs waiting to see him. If he still wanted to talk, she was here. If he didn’t. She would go. But when she looked up again, it was to see him stepping off the elevator.
He wore black jeans today and a gray shirt that molded against his toned chest. Sunglasses, a silver ring worn on his right hand, and black tie-up leather shoes completed his ensemble. The slow and steady gait was his signature and the sight of him so close and yet still so emotionally far away, had her heart beating faster.
It was now or never, Zera thought as she watched him walking toward the front entrance. She stuffed her phone back into her pocket and moved across the lobby. When he was just a couple steps in front of her, she called his name.
He stopped and turned and her breath caught as she almost stumbled right into his broad chest.
“Hello,” she said, taking a step back.
Zera tucked wayward strands of hair behind her ears and smiled tentatively.
“Hello,” he replied and reached up to remove his sunglasses from his face. “Are you staying at this hotel too?”
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I wanted to talk to you. To finish the conversation you started last night.”
For what seemed like endless moments, Dane only stared at her. She wanted him to say something and then thought that perhaps she should do all the talking. After all, she was the one with the answers.
“It’s over,” he said finally. “Four years is a long time and we’ve both lived a lot of life since then. It was really great seeing you again, but we can both walk away with a clear conscience.”
He attempted to turn away as he’d done last night, but this time, Zera grabbed his arm. The touch sent bolts of fire through her fingers and up her arm. The warmth threatened to draw her closer to him, to lean into him the way she
had before.
“My conscience isn’t clear,” Zera said.
Dane might never know how true those four words really were for her. But she continued, “I want to answer your question. To say some things that I did not get a chance to say four years ago.”
His brow creased. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“I think it does,” she said. “At least to me. And probably to you, since you didn’t hesitate bringing it up last night.”
A woman bumped into her, mumbling “excuse me” as she passed by. Dane took her hand from his arm and pulled her alongside him as he walked toward the hotel restaurant. Once at the entrance he spoke perfect French, requesting a table for two near the window. The hostess happily obliged and in seconds they were being led to a table. Dane pulled the chair out for her and Zera took a seat. She waited until he’d done the same across from her before speaking again.
“You wanted to know why I chose Emmet over you,” she said when the hostess had left them alone with menus. “I didn’t.”
Dane had been holding the menu and looking down at it. Now, he stared at her and set the menu on the table.
“I left the party that night and flew home, alone, the next morning. My initial plan that day had been to bring in the new year with you. But you did not answer my calls all day. When I arrived at Emmet’s party, I found out why,” Dane told her.
“You misunderstood,” she said.
“Emmet said you were his woman. He’d been speaking highly of a new woman in his life since earlier in the week. One who was making him rethink everything he’d thought he wanted in life. One who was going to change his world. That woman was you.”
He said the last as if the words actually pained him to release. For Zera, they were hard to hear, especially coming from Dane. She’d never wanted to be Emmet’s woman. But she’d had no other choice. Would Dane understand that?