I followed her through a cloth veil leading to a private room in the back of the store. I remembered the room. I used to play back there, making tea for Ursula and Dagger. Cats didn’t particularly care for tea, but they tolerated me like good sports.
She took off her coat and revealed her slender figure wrapped in a thin wool dress. In her late forties, you’d think she was ten years younger. In fact, she looked the same as she did twenty-one years earlier, with just a few fine lines around her eyes and mouth and a shade lighter head of hair.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked.
No, I don’t want any damn tea!
“Yes, please,” I said.
We sat at a small table more suited for stacking things than hosting a tea party. Neither one of us offered a word for several awkward minutes. I wanted her to be the first to speak. I wanted her to set the tone for the conversation. She was the one who owed the explanation, not me.
We consumed our tea in silence as we both fixed our eyes on the table. I finally gave in when it was clear we were going to need a second pot.
“This is ridiculous. What the hell happened to you, Ava?”
She placed her cup on the table as her eyes fixed on it for a moment. When she finally looked at me, I almost broke when I saw the tears welling up in her eyes. The woman I remembered as unshakable looked like she was about to crumble.
“Alex,” she said in a tone that wasn’t much more than a whisper. “I had to.”
“Had to?” I shook my head and waited for her to tell me something that would justify her leaving me to fight for my life among the monsters of the foster system. I barely survived, and all she could say was she had to.
“Well, that’s not good enough.”
I got up to leave because soon I would be the one swimming in tears and regret for coming here. She grabbed my hand and pulled me back down. “Wait.” Her remorse vanished and was replaced by something controlled and detached. “They would have taken you.” The coldness in her voice made it unrecognizable. “They would have used you until you wished you were dead.”
She had my attention now.
“I was eight years old.”
“Yes. All the more reason to hide you.” Her face shifted again as loathing took over her expression. “That put an even higher bounty on your head.”
This was not the Ava I remembered. The Ava I remembered loved me. This was not the same woman. I got up again, but this time I yanked my arm away when she reached for me.
“I swore an oath to Maeve. I swore I would kill you before I let them get their filthy hands on you. I couldn’t do it, Alex.”
Before walking out of her life forever, I turned to look at her one last time. The woman at the table was becoming unhinged, on the edge of complete instability. There was nothing remotely familiar about the woman sitting at that table.
“I did the only thing I could.” Her voice was steady now, almost resigned. “I killed myself instead, threw you into anonymity. I made sure no one would find you.”
I listened to the woman I once called mother justify deserting me. She was right. No one knew who I was. We lived under a different name. I was Alexandria Cole. Ava Cole was my mother, my father was dead, no living relatives, no former address. I forgot how well Ava conditioned me over the three years we moved from town to town. Never tell, Alex.
“I can live with myself now, Alex. It took a lot of years to convince myself of that, but I can.” She smiled for a brief second before her expression faded back to regret.
I flew from that back room knowing little more than I did when I entered it. It was the damn amulet again. If she wanted to protect me, why didn’t she just hand it over? As soon as the thought surfaced, I remembered that the amulet and I were a package deal. I was a target either way. I almost understood why she did it, but there was too much betrayal, too much hurt running through my veins to find any compassion. My life had been hell, and regardless of her good intentions, there would be no forgiveness today.
“What did you just do?” Patrick asked when I came out of the back room.
I assumed he’d heard the entire conversation, seeing how there were no real walls between us.
“I…I think I just said goodbye.”
I decided to walk back to Greer’s place. I needed some cooling off time—and some exerise—and the idea of jerking back and forth in a subway car for sixty blocks wasn’t my idea of therapy.
By the time I reached Columbus Circle, I was starving. I needed one of those chewy pretzels covered with thick salt crystals and mustard. Unfortunately, my wallet was empty. I’d spent all my cash on the subway fare going downtown.
“Rhom,” I said without looking in any particular direction, “can I borrow a few dollars?”
“Lunch is on me.” Rhom appeared at my side and handed the vendor a couple of bills. “Make that two. Hold the mustard on one.”
“You got something against mustard?” I asked.
“I’m a purist.”
“Some people would say I’m being the purist here.”
I’d felt him a few blocks back. I knew it had to be Rhom, because who else could give off such a formidable vibe?
We walked for several blocks and chewed on the dense, salty bread without saying a word. I liked him. He made me feel safe. Best of all, he didn’t force a conversation with small talk. It takes a confident man to feel comfortable with the silence. Greer was like that, too. He could stare at you for days without saying a word.
“Is he coming back?” I mumbled around a mouthful of pretzel.
He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
He finished chewing and swallowed his last bite of bread. “Son of a bitch is going to kill me.”
“Mind letting me in on the joke?”
“Your question,” he said.
“What’s so funny about it?”
“He never left.”
I stopped walking and turned to face him. “What do you mean he never left?”
“You can ask him yourself. He’s waiting for us at the house.”
FIFTEEN
I walked through the front door of the house and casually searched for the man who supposedly never left. I discreetly surveyed the immediate rooms, but I saw no signs that Greer was or had been there for the past week.
“I thought you said he was here.”
“He is.” A sly grin edged up one side of Rhom’s mouth, softening his intimidating features.
The living room was empty. I checked the kitchen but it was empty, too. When I turned back around, Greer was sitting in a chair, carrying on a conversation with Rhom like he’d been there the entire time. Seeing that the only other entrance to the living room was in my direct line of sight, I was certain I would have seen him entering the room.
I narrowed my eyes as my chin lifted.
The two of them paused to look at me.
“What? Do I have food or something stuck to my face?”
They ignored my question and went back to a conversation that appeared to involve me. I deciphered this because they both kept glancing in my direction.
“I don’t know what you’re up to, Greer, but I’m on to you.”
Was it possible he’d been in the house for the past week without me knowing it?
“You told her, didn’t you?” Greer muttered.
“Right here, boys. I can hear everything you’re saying, you know.”
Greer righted himself from the chair in a single, smooth movement and headed across the room, stopping within a foot of me. I moved back a few inches to escape his heat. It altered me, putting me at a definite disadvantage. I preferred to be fully alert when dealing with Greer Sinclair because he always managed to have the upper hand.
“I hope you’ve been making yourself at home, Alex.” The words rolled off his tongue smoothly, and a reel of our last encounter played vividly in my mind.
“I have,” I replied, “but I guess you already knew that.”
&nb
sp; His expression let me know he made no apologies for the deception. He was back to his old self again. Except for the innuendo, it was as if the night he nearly plowed me on that sofa never happened.
“We have a date tonight,” he said.
A palpitation spiked painfully under my ribcage. “A date?” He was up to something. Greer wasn’t the kind of man who took a woman on a date. He was direct. He made that clear the night he left me on that sofa. Why waste valuable time when you could simply make an offer and agree or disagree to the terms? The negotiation of fucking wasn’t entirely a bad idea—no bullshit, no waiting by the phone. Everyone knows the precise terms going into the deal.
“I’m intrigued,” I said. “Now, why don’t you get to the point.”
“A lead—on the amulet. A collector came into Ava’s shop a few days ago and inquired about books on the Irish clans—specifically, the Fitheach.”
Someone once said there are no coincidences. I’m not sure I agree. It could have easily been a coincidence that a stranger inquired about the people who are apparently mine, but I had to admit, the stakes were too high to ignore the lead. In the race to save the universe from cataclysmic occurrences, any lead could turn out to be a home run.
“Doesn’t sound like much of a lead to me.” I pushed past him to get a glass of water from the kitchen, my mouth suddenly bone dry.
“I didn’t think so either, until he asked about an Irish woman who used to come into the shop with her young daughter about twenty years ago. Asked Patrick if he knew the family. Said he remembered the murder and that the shop was mentioned in the articles. He was particularly interested in what happened to the girl after her mother died.”
My hand froze on the cabinet door. “Maybe he was just curious. A little girl disappears after her mother is violently murdered, never to be seen again. Stories like mine sell a lot of papers. People tend to remember those cases.” My story had apparently been front page news. The grisly details fed the media for months.
Greer didn’t counter my dismissal of the stranger. Instead, he gave me a look that told me it really didn’t matter what I thought. The lead was exactly what he’d been waiting for. We were back in the game and I was the second place prize—the first being the amulet. Or maybe I was the co-grand prize since we were a package deal.
I searched for a clean glass among a shelf full of them, refusing to show my face because I didn’t want him to see the fear written all over it. Greer was the kind of man you didn’t show your Achilles’ heel to, because that’s the first place he’d target if he had reason to.
“Arthur Richmond. Wealthy. Owns an art gallery in Tribeca.” I could feel him watching my back as I filled a glass from the water dispenser on the refrigerator door. “He’s having a party tonight and we’re going.”
“We? Are we even invited?”
“Does it matter, Alex?”
“So let me get this straight. We’re just going to crash an artsy party and no one will notice?” The sarcasm disguised my fear. “Don’t you think it might be dangerous to take me along? What if someone recognizes me?”
Greer moved toward me, inching me backward until I could feel the counter. His eyes locked me in place as he reached out and gently removed my fingers from the vise-like grip I had around the glass. Rhom was up, too, and I got the distinct feeling he was guarding the exits.
“Well,” he said with surprising softness, “that’s the point.” With my confiscated glass now on the counter, he grabbed an orphaned strand of hair from my cheek and absently rolled it through his fingers. The back of his knuckles ignited a sweet sensation as they grazed my skin.
I closed my eyes, trying to rebound from the distraction and refocus on the seriousness of what he was suggesting. “You mean I’m the bait?” I considered the door, but then glanced over at Rhom and realize the preposterousness of the thought. “I won’t do it.”
Greer’s eyes went darker as his head craned downward, because that was the only angle that allowed him to see my face, considering how close he was. “Yes, you will.”
“And why is that?” My eyes lifted just enough to see past the mountain of chest caging me.
“Because you’re the best shot we have at drawing out the thief. Maeve died trying to protect you and the amulet, Alex.” He smoothed the strand of hair behind my ear. “Now, tell me again that you won’t do it.”
He had me. I was too invested to walk away. I leaned back and looked at his face—the mouth that never spoke an unnecessary word, and the eyes that never looked at you with unnecessary bullshit. Yes, he had me.
“Will you protect me?” It would become my daily affirmation, the one thing that would keep me from splitting into a thousand pieces every time I readied myself to walk into the eye of the hurricane.
“Always.”
Greer looked at me with the conviction of a man solidifying his promise. With his eyes still tracking mine, he backed away. “You can borrow a dress from Leda.” He headed for the stairs but stopped near the table by the elevator. Glancing back at me, he pulled his keys from his pocket and tossed them into the porcelain bowl.
Leda had become my personal stylist. She had a natural instinct when it came to fashion and always chose the perfect outfit. “Never underestimate the power of a little black dress,” she said, waging a garment bag in front of me.
I decided to wear my hair up in a classic chignon, which accentuated the length of my neck between my nape and the deeply cut back of the dress. Leda had once again found a way to show off as much of my skin as possible. I guess the bait needed to look good to the shark swimming around the tank.
The doorbell rang at eight o’clock. “Taking this whole date thing kind of—”
Instead of finding Greer on the other side of the door, I found the one person I didn’t expect to see. I couldn’t tell if the oversized gray eyes staring back at me were real or made of glass.
“Morgan,” I said, monotone at best.
“Alex,” she countered with equal flatness.
We looked at each other in silence while I tried to decide if it would be rude not to invite her in. “Greer isn’t here. Can I help you with something?” I managed a saccharin smile for the delicate beast.
“Yes, I know. It appears I’m to be your escort this evening.” Her eyes thinned, surfing my face for a rise.
I glanced at the Mercedes parked at the bottom of the steps. I don’t think so. She could do some real damage to me behind that steering wheel, and if she was anything like Greer, she’d be the one walking away without a scratch. Hell hath no fury like a faerie princess scorned, and Morgan clearly considered me a threat. Her taste for Greer was obvious, and I had no intention of getting into four thousand pounds of steel with a target on my back.
“Let’s go, Alex.” Leda rolled down the tinted window and gestured for me to get in.
I was relieved because now I had an insurance policy. Morgan might be tough, but if the gloves ever came off between the two of them, my money was on Leda.
“Where’s Greer?” I asked as I climbed into the back seat.
“He’s meeting us at the party. Thought it might be better to split up rather than make a big grand entrance.”
She had a point. Greer and his people didn’t exactly blend in with the crowd. Greer alone commanded every eye in the room when he entered. Leda and Morgan on his arms could send the whole damn party into a temporary coma.
“Isn’t that the idea—to stand out? I’m the bait, remember?” The thought made me a little nauseous.
“Yes, dear. You, not us.”
Morgan glared at me through the rearview mirror. “Watch the road—please,” I said. Leda watched the city fly past us through the passenger window, grinning through the reflection of the glass.
By the time we pulled up to the gallery, I’d already been put through a day’s worth of mental push-ups. My thin shell had hardened nicely, and I had no intention of dissolving under the pressure like an after-dinner mint. Here I wa
s, about to serve as human bait to catch the amulet thief. All I had to do was stay alive.
“Invitation,” said the large male bouncer, steadfastly guarding the entrance like a pit bull. We were an inch away from being busted before we even made it through the front door.
Morgan stepped forward and gave the big guy a demure smile before turning those oversized orbs on him. His face contorted into something resembling a mini stroke, and then he stepped aside and told us to enjoy the party. Well, I guess she was good for something. I followed, but the bouncer stopped me and asked for my invitation.
“She’s with us,” Leda said.
“Someone needs to remind her that I’m a key part of the plan.” I shot Morgan an accusatory look as she smirked and continued into the party.
The party wasn’t actually in the lower gallery. The elevator stopped at the third floor, opening to an expansive loft where hordes of people mingled like smooth, seasoned socialites. The place looked like a sea of money as the overdressed bodies stopped waving just long enough to size up the new meat stepping off the elevator. These folks were definitely the high maintenance kind. The new money flaunted their expensive clothes and newly manufactured smiles, reveling in the freedom of no longer worrying about their checking account balances; the old money wore their wealth conservatively because they had no benchmarks for the things they owned. Better to be poor first.
I scanned the room wondering which one of them was our host, Arthur Richmond. As soon as we stepped off the elevator, Morgan disappeared.
“You really need to tell me what her problem is,” I said to Leda.
“Anything with tits that looks at Greer is the problem,” she said. “Hell, anything with balls, for that matter.”
“I assume Greer and Morgan have a history?”
“Oh, there’s a history. Just not the history Morgan remembers. She’s always had a thing for Greer. He’s just never had a thing for her.”
“So I should just ignore her?”
“Well, I wouldn’t ignore her. Morgan can be nasty.” Her shoulders shuddered in mock dread. “Better watch your back, Alex.”
The Amulet Thief (The Fitheach Trilogy Book 1) Page 14