by Eden Summers
“I noticed how both their heads are bowed, supposedly in sleep,” she continues. “However, it could be an attempt to hide sightless eyes and gaping mouths. What I see, Cole, is a photo that lacks proof of life. And because it was taken while they were still in that car, even if he didn’t delete the image data, the GPS co-ordinates won’t lead us to where they are now. Only where they were.”
The icy chill of death sinks into me, coating my skin in thickening grime. They can’t be dead. If I’ve contributed to the murder of my niece and half-brother, I’ll—
“My observations mean nothing, Cole.” Anissa places her hand on my wrist, the warmth breathing the slightest sense of life back into me. “Emmanuel had no obligation to send you anything at all. But he did. That alone is enough to leave me hopeful.”
“He could be trying to give me a false sense of security.”
She cringes “Yes.”
“They could already be dead.”
Her brows deepen, her gentle fingers sliding back and forth along my skin. “No more than we thought they could’ve been before. That photo changed nothing. We’re no better or worse than we were. We’re just the same.” She’s silent a moment. A bump of turbulence shuffles us closer together. She opens her mouth to speak again, then stops.
“What?” I frown. “What were you going to say?”
Her hand retreats as she sits taller. “With one phone call, this could all be over. Let me get in contact with the Sacramento—”
“No.” I know exactly where this is going—straight into unwanted territory. “Don’t bring it up again.”
“Please, Cole. If you let me reach out to the local authorities, they could handle this. They’re far more equipped—”
“Of course they are. Not only to retrieve the children but to dig deep on why the fuck this happened in the first place.” I lock my cell and shove it back into my pocket. “Tell me, Nis, do you have an appropriate story to tell about why Robert would’ve arranged this? Because I’m sure the asshole who drove those kids away from my house wouldn’t take the full blame.”
She presses her mouth together in indignation.
“The fun will begin once they tie Robert to my father. Then discover my old man is missing.” I don’t withhold the antagonism from my voice. “What happens when they dig deep enough to figure out he’s dead? Do you have an appropriate story for why you pulled the trigger and didn’t report the death?”
She sits back in her seat, turning her focus to the opposite wall of the cabin to cross her arms over her chest.
“It’s not such a great idea anymore, is it?” I taunt. “That easy call isn’t so easy after all.”
Her jaw ticks.
“Believe me, Nissa, if I could get those kids out of there without having to wait, I’d fucking do it. But I’m not risking the freedom of everyone on this jet.”
I can’t.
It might not be the best call, but it’s one I can live with.
Everyone here should be behind bars. Nobody would be spared. Then who would look after Stella and Tobias? They’d be no better than they are now.
She doesn’t answer me.
Not while I stare at her, and not after I settle back into my seat and wait out the remaining minutes until we start our descent.
I don’t hear anything else from Emmanuel by the time we land. There’s no destination point. No cell number. I’m unable to contact him, and he sure as shit doesn’t seem in a hurry to contact me again.
“Pretend everything is fine.” Anissa tugs on a baseball cap she took from my house as we disembark onto the tarmac of the private airport. “Don’t let anyone know you’re worried.”
I scoff. Not because she’s wrong, but because she’s homed in on my increased anxiety.
“Easier said than done when we’ve got nowhere to go. I can’t even call this asshole.”
“You’ll figure something out.” She walks ahead, her head hung low as she follows behind the airport staffer who carries the only duffle that doesn’t contain anything illegal, along with wheeling Anissa’s suitcase.
The pilots will take care of the weapons, either bypassing security or waiting until they can pay someone for the privilege.
It isn’t until we’re out the other side of the airport, our belongings piled onto a trolley at my side, waiting for our rental cars to pull up, that I notice I have an audience.
Everyone watches me—Hunt, Deck, Sarah, and Benji, waiting for instruction, while my sisters blink at me with silent questions. Anissa stands alone a few feet behind us, remaining an outsider as she keeps her head hung, attempting to shield her face from any cameras.
“We’re going to find a hotel.” I deliberately keep my attention from Keira and Layla. “We’ll freshen up and get something to eat. I want to get a lay of the land first. Sacramento isn’t what I’d call an even playing field, and we need to make sure we know what we’re up against.”
“I don’t want to freshen up.” Layla glances between me and Benji, as if waiting for support. “I want to see my daughter.”
“I agree,” Keira adds. “We could spend days trying to get familiar with this city. It’s a waste of time.”
“I said, we’re going to a hotel. Regardless of your protests, I’ve already told you you’re not coming to pick them up, so you’ll need somewhere to wait.”
There’s a beat of tense silence before Anissa steps forward. “I’ll book the rooms. Do you have any preferences?”
“I’ll do it.” Sarah backs away from the huddle, grabbing her cell from her jeans pocket. “I already know the drill.”
“I know I didn’t protest back home about coming with you to pick them up,” Layla starts. “But I want to be there. I’m her mother. I should be the first to comfort her.”
Anissa shakes her head. “It’s best not to—”
“Stay out of this,” Layla snaps, jabbing her finger in Anissa’s direction. “I’ve been patient and haven’t questioned your sudden involvement. But don’t mistake my silence for friendship. Don’t even mistake it for civility. You don’t belong here.”
I narrow my eyes on my sister. “She’s helping us.”
“Exactly.” Layla returns the accusing stare. “She’s a Fed, yet she’s helping us. How can you trust her?”
Anissa looks at me in confusion. Then dawning shock.
She’s finally realizing I kept her secret.
I made no effort to clear up the assumption that I killed my father instead of her. And I’ve also ensured the news would never be exposed by Penny and Luca, as long as the two of them want to remain breathing.
“Send her home, Cole.” Hunter follows after Sarah. “She brings nothing to the team.”
A crowd of subtle nodding heads bob before me—Decker, Keira, Benji, and Layla all in agreement.
They don’t see what I see.
They don’t understand the asset. The impeccable resource.
She’s much more than that, too, but they’re definitely not going to appreciate the chemistry or history that cements Anissa as part of this team.
I’m about to open my mouth and put them in their places when Anissa squares her shoulders, a mask of no-shits-given settling into place.
“You don’t want to send me home.” Her voice is authoritative. It’s the determined confidence I appreciate more than gold. “From what I can tell, I’m the only one here who has slept in the past twenty-four hours. I’m also the only one who isn’t emotionally involved. And this isn’t my first rodeo.”
Her tone is almost a taunt of superiority. A casual fuck you to her haters. “You need me. Not just for clarity, but for common sense. You have no contacts here. You’ve got no connections. I can make things happen if your wrong-side-of-the-tracks agenda doesn’t pan out.”
She fascinates me with her confident tirade. I’m fucking drained beyond belief, but I’m impressed.
“Anyone require me to reiterate what Anissa put so eloquently?” I glare at everyone in turn. “I’m
going to lose my temper real fast if we have to continue going over the reasons for her involvement.”
They remain quiet, their protests contained to returned glares.
“I just don’t understand why we’re waiting,” Layla breaks the silence. “Why can’t we get them now?”
“Because we’re not ready.” Anissa steps closer to the road as three Escalades pull up in front of us. “Cole needs to strategize. Contingencies have to be made. So we’ll go to a hotel and make a plan. As soon as we’re ready, we can move.”
I walk for the man getting out of the first car, exchange the necessary pleasantries, and catch the key fob he throws at me.
“Nissa, you’re with me.” I make eye contact with Decker over the hood. “You, Keira, Benji, and Layla are in the next car. Followed by Sarah and Hunt, who will take the luggage.”
I don’t wait for another protest as I climb into the Escalade and start the engine. Anissa joins me in seconds, clasping her belt and letting out a sigh.
“You did well.” I don’t look at her. I place my hands on the steering wheel, denying myself the pleasure of reaching out. “They might not like you, but they respect you.”
She huffs out a laugh. “Hunter doesn’t respect me. Neither does Decker.”
“You have a past with Decker.” One I don’t care to remember. “And Hunter is beyond loyal to him. They’ll never be kind but they’re not threatening to kill you.”
“At least not to my face.”
I grin and start the engine. “True.”
“Lucky me.”
There’s a tap on her window. Sarah’s face comes into view. “We’re staying at the Saffron Towers in the city.” She speaks through the glass. “I booked two rooms to give us a little breathing space. See you there.”
She walks away and Anissa lets out another sigh.
“The space is a good idea,” I offer, hoping to address whatever added to her discomfort. “It also shows that you’ve got Sarah on your side.”
“She’s not on my side. She’s just…” She shakes her head.
“What?”
She looks at me, her confidence gradually returning. “Smart. She knows I’m an asset.”
“Yeah, well, she’s not the only one.” I jerk my chin toward the navigation system. “Do me a favor and figure out where we’re going.”
She does as instructed, leaning forward to tap at the small screen until an automated voice directs me to take the first left up ahead.
“What are we going to do once we get to the hotel?” She settles back into her seat.
“We’re going to share the photo of the kids to buy us some time, and if Emmanuel hasn’t reached out after that, then we pray.”
14
Anissa
Cole mentions his name to the valet and we’re immediately treated like royalty. Our escort beams a bright smile as he leads us into the hotel foyer while our travel companions are lost somewhere in traffic.
“I’ll show you to your room, Mr. Torian. Would you like any bags brought up?”
“No.” Cole strides ahead of me, not showing any of the concern I have for the bags of illegal weapons soon to arrive.
I didn’t realize the extent of the arsenal we brought along with us until Cole enlightened me on the drive here. Guns, sniper rifles, and ammo are encased in those bags, escorted by Hunter and Sarah. And my FBI allocated weapon is right there with them.
What if they’re pulled over? Their car searched?
I’m not sure how these people live with the threat of prison on a daily basis. I’ve already accumulated enough paranoid arrhythmia to set me on a collision course for heart failure. But Cole lives with this daily. The adrenaline. The naive thrill.
We’re led into the elevator. Our escort even handles the button to our floor and we ascend in silence. It isn’t until the red neon floor indicator dings our arrival on the penthouse floor that all my accumulated arrhythmia becomes a threatening panic attack.
“The penthouse?” I follow the men into the wide hall, the glistening lights above kissing their features in a gentle way fluorescents never could.
“That’s right.” The escort stops, turns, and glances between Cole and I. “Isn’t this what was requested?”
“Yes.” Cole continues forward without pause. “Make sure our companions get a spare key to our room.”
“No problem, sir.” The young man nods and jogs ahead, beating Cole to the door to open it with an elegant sweep of his arm. “I hope your stay is enjoyable.”
I pass both men as Cole arranges a tip. I peek my head into the room along the hall, finding an immaculate bedroom, the massive bed crisp, the furnishings well above my pay grade, and the view… Even from the hall it’s nothing but open skyline.
“Come on.” Cole walks by me into the open living area.
“The penthouse?” I follow. “We’re not staying the night, are we? Why would you need the penthouse?”
I reach the end of the hall, the breath leaving my lungs at the pristine elegance. There are two corner sofas in the middle of the room, facing floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading onto a balcony with more expensive furniture.
There are flower-filled vases, as well as artwork, and a massive television.
The kitchen has appliances I’ve never even seen before, the sparkling stainless steel gleaming in the sunlight.
“Kick off your shoes and rest for a while.” Cole continues to the doorway across the opposite side of the room. “The others will be here soon.”
The temptation of taking off these two-inch heels and sinking my toes into the thick carpet is too strong. I slide my shoes against the side of the sofa and groan with the freedom as Cole disappears into unexplored territory.
I don’t follow this time. I’m sure the main bedroom is in there and it’s not a place I want to be alone with him.
Not when my sympathy for this crime-hardened man is growing.
I need to reassess the walls I’ve placed between us and make them stronger. Thicker. I have to Great Wall of China this shit and ensure no unwanted emotions breach the perimeter.
I faintly hear the grate of a zipper, which electrocutes my pulse due to the accompanying heated thoughts.
The unmistakable sound of fluid hitting fluid thankfully sucks all the eroticism from my mind.
There’s a flush of the toilet, the rush of water from the faucet, then silence.
The quiet stretches long enough to make me curious to investigate, the space between the sofa and the bedroom bridged in creeping footsteps.
I reach the threshold and suck in another breath at the view. This time, the awe is male-inspired. Cole is laid out on the bed, his shoes and suit still on, his hands behind his head.
He’s at home amongst the luxury. A perfectly fit piece.
I can’t help admiring the sight. The calm amid the storm. The oozing sexuality which needs to be smothered by professionalism.
He lowers his chin to meet my gaze, his eyes tired, yet so fucking captivating. “You seem nervous, little fox.” His tone is smooth, calm, with that infinite cockiness threaded beneath. “Why? Do you fear a carnal repeat of Greece?”
I don’t want to humor him, but the innuendo needs to be smacked from his consciousness. “Not at all.”
He raises a brow and sits, sliding his feet to the floor. I prepare for him to continue the taunts. Instead, his shoulders slump as his hands fall to the bed coverings. He stares at the carpet, his exhaustion creeping into my chest.
I ache to help him. To make this easier.
No. I need to build walls.
Many, many walls.
“That’s probably for the best.” He pushes to his feet. “As much as I want to fuck you, I don’t think I could bring my A-game right now.”
My abdomen squeezes.
Goddamn wrings tight.
It’s pathetic.
“A-game?” I drawl as he starts toward me. “I think I’ve only ever experienced the lackluster version.”
<
br /> A grin is slow to spread his lips. “Is that so?”
Shit. I shouldn’t have bitten back.
I swallow, hating myself a little more with each of his predatory steps.
“Don’t taunt me, Nis.” He stops beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. “I might just be willing to muster enough energy to prove you wrong.”
My pulse flutters. A million tiny butterfly wings rapidly bat beneath my ribs.
“You should order room service,” he instructs. “When the others arrive, I’m going to need something to keep their mouths occupied.”
He continues into the living room as if he didn’t just treat me like the hired help.
I don’t follow. I remain rooted in place, taking necessary calming breaths.
The others will be here soon.
I don’t need to worry about a lengthy isolation with him. With my feelings. With my desires. But the risks claw at me nonetheless.
Seeing him like this is a double-edged sword. The drained, vulnerable Cole is just as alluring as the man who threatens me into a frenzy of lust and carnality.
This man, with his palpable weariness, makes me ache for him because not once has he shown weakness despite his belly being exposed.
He remains a force to be reckoned with. A lethal, conniving soul. And I hate how drawn I am to those parts of him. I’m smothered with attraction even though the facets of his world I despise the most are painted before me in broad strokes.
These feelings aren’t normal.
I’m not normal.
“Food, Nissa,” he barks behind me, lighting the fuse to my agitation.
I swing around, hands clenched, cheeks flaming. “Who the hell died and made me your bitch?” I raise my voice. “I’m a fucking FBI agent, asshole, not the catering staff.”
He smirks as he sits on the sofa, then lays down, mimicking his relaxed position from the bed, only this time his arm moves to cover his eyes. I can still see those lips though, and that conniving son of a bitch maintains the slightest grin.
“You’re a bitch. The bitch. My bitch.” He crosses his feet at the ankles. “But I wasn’t treating you like a servant. I thought you might be hungry, so I disguised my demand for you to eat in a request to order food for everyone. Excuse me for caring.”