Jude didn’t look the slightest bit surprised, but spoke as though he were. “You can’t possibly think that’s a good idea, Triton. Are you looking to repeat your troubles?”
Eric didn’t answer—it was clear they were both trying to cultivate a sense of struggle. I was lost.
“Come on, Jane,” he said. “We’re leaving.” But instead of drawing me back through darkened halls, he instead pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket—one with a pre-written message:
Midnight at Portas.
Jude read it, then gave a brief, curt nod before he crumpled the note and shoved it into his pocket.
“You’re an idiot,” he pronounced clearly for the benefit of his bracelet. “And you’ll regret it.”
“Tell Carson the feeling his mutual,” Eric said.
“Holy shit,” I breathed. “You’re calling a meeting of Janus?”
Eric just shook his head and held a finger to his lips. I frowned. What was this?
Jude cackled. “This will be fun. I’ll give him that much.”
I opened my mouth to argue again, but Eric shook his head.
“Hush,” Eric said. “He’s just trying to get under your skin. It’s what he does.”
I bit back another complaint. He was right, of course.
Eric released my arm, but his hand still floated around the small of my back, keeping me close. “Jude.” He pointed to his wrist, then pulled a pair of small metal cutters from his jacket. To my surprise, Jude willingly stepped forward and allowed Eric to snap the bracelet from his wrist, then dropped it neatly into the fountain. Jude looked relieved.
“That’s better,” Eric said. “You think he’ll buy it?”
I balked. “That was all an act?”
Jude shrugged, like I hadn’t spoken. “It’s no big secret that you know about these. He’ll think it was the price of luring you here.”
“And you?” Eric asked. “What’s your price for getting Carson to the location?”
Realization dawned. Portas. Midnight.
He was staging a coup. And Jude was helping.
I turned to Eric. “This is insanity. We talked about this. You can’t just run off to Connecticut in the middle of the night. And definitely not with the Devil’s fucking handmaid here!”
Eric just shook his head. “It’s the best way. We can’t keep doing this, Jane. The feds, even the DA is on the take. We have to deal with this ourselves.”
Jude just cackled again.
“Eric,” I tried again. “You can’t possibly think you can trust him.”
“Oh, no?” Jude asked. “Perhaps this might be a bit of a surprise, Chop Sticks, but I don’t actually plan to spend my life playing number two to an insane man. The last ten years were normal. A meeting once or twice a year, basic tampering with the Department of the Interior, a solid bit of insider trading, you know the drill. But then the prodigal son here had to show up again, and everything went batshit. It was fun for a bit, but do you know? I don’t really have a taste for torture. It’s really quite grotesque.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You could have fooled me.”
Jude’s face darkened. “Yes, well. They do say every hero has a fatal flaw. Your family”—he practically spat the word—“happened to be Carson’s. And I’m…well, quite bored of it.” Then he did spit into the fountain, as if just talking about the whole matter required a palette cleanser. “And I’m not interested in being dragged down with a sinking ship. I’ve never claimed to be a great champion of scruples, but his little stunt with this one was a bit much, even for me.”
I dropped a hand protectively over my stomach. Eric followed the movement before he tore himself away.
“You want to run away and have a whole host of yellow brats, be my guest, Triton,” Jude said. “But clean up your house first, please. Carson needs to be disposed of. If you can bring the society back to normal, I’m all for it. Just make me your number two. And, of course, get me full exoneration.”
Eric’s hands rose with mock innocence. “Hey, Letour, the society I can handle. But I’m not the one writing the indictment.”
“No, but you’re damn cozy with the one who is.” Jude’s face twisted into an ugly scowl. “You would end up in league with the first principled DA in the history of New York City.” He held out a hand, as if waiting for a handshake. “Immunity from all charges. I assume kidnapping is on the table. Maybe some trafficking? If you tell them I’m innocent, they’ll believe you.”
Eric blinked. That mask I hated was firmly in place, and I had never been so glad for it. If I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, then there was no way Jude could.
“Innocent,” he said at last. “By my word.”
Jude nodded. “Very well. I’ll make sure Carson’s at the Portas. Midnight.” And with that, he disappeared into the dark corridors.
I waited a full ten minutes, until we could no longer hear his footsteps lingering in the dark. A door opened and closed. He was gone.
Then I turned to Eric. “Tell me you’re not going through with this. Meeting John Carson in the middle of the night. Staging a coup well outside the jurisdiction of the NYPD? Letting that scum of the earth go?” With every item on the list, my voice rose an octave and a decibel.
Sorrow crossed Eric’s face. “Jane, it’s the only way—”
“You cannot possibly believe that!” I cried. “You’re going to trust that Jack Sparrow caricature over your own wife? He is playing you!”
“It’s done,” he said. “Jane, some of this is out of your hands. You keep asking me to be the man I was born to be. Well, I was born into this world. Taking back my birthright is going to give me the leverage to keep us safe. Can you fucking get that through your head without ruining things again?”
I stepped back like I’d been slapped. In less than fifteen minutes, I felt like I’d been thrown down Alice’s rabbit hole. Who was this person speaking? “Fuck. You.”
Eric shook his head ruefully, took a step toward me but stopped when I scrambled backward.
I swallowed, then glared at him. “If that’s really what you think, then you are not half the man I thought you were. And if you need the approval of some grown men’s treehouse club more than your own wife’s…well, then I think you know how this ends.”
“Jane—”
“Absolutely not.” I shook my head. I knew it. I knew there was another shoe that had to drop before all of this was over. Damn him for making me believe it wouldn’t be his. “I think it’s safe to say we are going to give John Carson what he wants. This isn’t going to work. Maybe it never was.”
“Jane!”
I held up a hand. “I need some space. I’m going back to the event I have devoted every waking hour to for the last few months. You can go play your boys’ game if that’s what you have to do.”
Eric stood tall, but not completely without regret. “Jane,” he said. “Just trust me. Please.”
But I shook my head and turned away. “Trust goes two ways, Eric. I would think that by now, you’d have learned that.”
36
I moved through the rest of the event like a ghost. Walked my mother through the gallery and vaguely answered her random questions. Listened to Cora and a few other celebrities give perfunctory speeches to a crowd of raucous celebrities. Sat through the musical guest—some pop star who was “co-hosting.”
But Eric never reappeared. Clearly he really had gone to New Haven. I began to wonder if he was ever coming back. And guiltily, what that really meant.
Trust me, he’d said. No, pleaded. And I hadn’t, instead allowing him to leave in the night.
Somewhere between watching celebrities dance the night away in the crowd and drinking my fourth glass of champagne, I had had enough. I stood up and turned to Nina.
“I’m going home.”
She was too busy looking through the crowd. “Really? It’s still quite the party in here.”
I peered at her, wondering if she was looking for a parti
cular dark-haired someone to part that crowd like the red sea. He, however, had disappeared too. I guessed Eric had updated him on his bullshit plans.
“Didn’t Zola leave?” I ventured, just to mess with her.
Nina swiveled back toward me like her head was on a spring. “What?Matthew?” She batted her hand, like she was chasing away a fly. “I don’t know what you mean—”
“Nina, Nina, Nina,” I joked. “I’m not judging, I promise. It’s okay if he’s got a thing for you. It’s nice, right? Means you still got it.”
But the way her cheeks pinked, even under the dim lighting, told me it was a lot more than just a mild crush. Well, shit. That wasn’t good.
I set a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Is it…what about Calvin?”
I didn’t even like to ask the question—neither Eric nor I could stand the guy. But she was married. And with a child. And messing around with the attorney who was literally the family’s only ally in a feud with a crazed autocratic tycoon wasn’t the greatest idea either.
Nina swallowed heavily and shook her head. “You don’t—you don’t have to worry about anything. I promise. He likes me, but I’ve assured him that I’m not available.” Her dove-gray eyes shone in the dancing lights. “Don’t worry, Jane. I would never compromise this family.”
I examined her a moment. I didn’t know Nina extremely well or anything, but she had stayed with me for a bit when Eric was at Rikers. And we had talked enough that I knew there was more than met the eye under that polished, carefully wrought veneer. A lot of unhappiness, in particular. Unhappiness that I doubted she would want to discuss right here. If ever.
So instead of pressing the matter further, I nodded. “Okay, then. Well, it’s one in the morning. I know this will go on forever, but I’m exhausted. I need some sleep.” I cocked my head. “Will you be all right?”
Nina nodded, and it was suddenly as if the sadness on her face had been wiped away as easily as dust. “Yes, I’ll be fine. My car is picking me up at two anyway.” She smiled. Like Eric, her quiet beauty transformed with the simple act. “You did a wonderful job, Jane. I’m truly impressed.”
She reached out to grasp my hand briefly, then let it go and kissed my cheek. “Good night. Keep my cousin safe, will you?”
The pang of guilt in my stomach returned. Shit.
I swallowed. “I’ll do my best.”
And with that, I turned and left.
After claiming my things, I walked down the steps while messaging Tony to come get me. He left earlier to escort my mother back to the apartment, but should have been back by now. I’d check the house first to see if Eric had gone home, I decided. If he wasn’t there, we’d hightail it to New Haven. Tony had to know at least where the cemetery was containing the creepy meeting place, and Eric had told me enough about the chamber that maybe I could find it.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I told myself as I teetered in my heels. I’d had more than my share of champagne, and I was definitely ready to remove my spikes. But more than that, with every step I felt worse about our fight. I did trust Eric. I should have gone with him rather than forbidding him to go.
Fifth Avenue was jammed, already packed with limo drivers waiting for the gala’s guests to leave. Shit, Tony would take absolutely forever to get down this street. I’d be better off walking a few blocks down to the Seventy-Ninth Street Traverse. He could pick me up on the corner, and we’d be home in a few minutes.
As I texted Tony the change of plans, I started down Fifth Avenue. It was warm enough for early May, but too chilly to be standing outside in a strapless dress. The blooming trees above me cast shadows closer to the traverse entrance that weren’t exactly comforting either.
“Come on, Tony,” I muttered as I looked back up Fifth and then toward the river. “Where are you?” I was so busy looking, I almost didn’t realize that I had stumbled right into a woman coming out of the park.
“Oh!” I said. “I’m so sorry!”
Phone still in hand, I reached out to steady her and came face-to-face with my mother-in-law.
I stepped back. “Heather? Are you okay?” I looked around, expecting her driver to pop up. What was she doing in the park?
Her big eyes widened “Oh—oh, Jane. Oh, no.”
She looked a far sight from the polished woman I’d originally greeted in the gala. Still beautiful, yes, but her hair was tousled, and a bright red scrape marred her perfect skin.
“Holy crap,” I said, reaching out for her. “Oh my God, Heather, are you okay?” I glanced around, looking for help, or perhaps an assailant. “Do we need to call the police?”
“Jane,” she said in a voice strung like a rusty violin. “Jane, dear. Run.”
Two faces appeared behind her. Faces I knew quite well. One was the haughty, masochistic sneer of the Russian, Anton. The one who had taken such pleasure in waterboarding me with ramen noodles. The other was Jude Letour, black eyes gleaming over that stupid fucking goatee.
“Shit,” I whispered.
Jude’s smile burned. “Hello, dumpling. Twice in one night. I’m a lucky man.”
I looked up and down the street. “Where’s Eric?”
Jude’s smile widened, and dread lodged itself in my stomach.
But before he could answer, a black sedan pulled up behind us, effectively cornering Heather and me against Jude and Anton. I watched in horror as the back door opened, and the bent, patrician figure who had been haunting my dreams since last November emerged from the depths.
John Carson’s deep greenish-brown eyes glinted under the city lights as he peered at me, then Heather. His face was even thinner than before, his salt-and-peppered hair shinier.
But his eyes. Oh, his eyes, they burned.
“Daughter,” he said. “I knew it would only be a matter of time.”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even breathe. Wherever Tony was, he obviously wasn’t coming now. We’d been bested again, and this time, there would be absolutely no one coming to find me. Eric was two and a half hours away, probably literally being buried in that cemetery, while his mother and I were about to be abducted and taught a lesson.
Which meant, of course, I had nothing to lose.
“I wouldn’t run,” Carson commented. “Anton isn’t very kind to women who do. They usually end up in a ditch somewhere, strangled with their own clothes.” He cocked a brow knowingly. “Just ask your mother.”
Ditches. Clothes. Holy fuck, Anton was the Hwaseong murderer.
I slipped out of my shoes, ignoring the thrill of revulsion as my bare feet touched the most disgusting of all things: a New York City sidewalk.
“I d-don’t think so,” I said.
“Anton,” Carson said as he examined his watch. “Get them.”
Instinct took over.
“No!” I grabbed the only weapons I had—a pair of five-thousand-dollar spiked stilettos, and whirled around, flailing out my arms like a crazy woman until they made contact with something. That something ended up being Anton, who fell back clutching his face. Ha! My spikes had hit pay dirt—he was bleeding like a pig as two gashes appeared in his cheek, another over his eye. He swore loudly in Russian, glaring at me through his hands.
“Jane!”
At the sound of the voice, I froze. Heather. I had been so busy trying to flee, I had forgot about Heather. At the edge of the stone barrier, I turned, and of course found her writhing in the leering grip of Jude Letour. Carson shook his head as he examined at his bleeding Russian goon.
“That wasn’t very nice,” he remarked. “Anton quite likes his face. And he tends to hold a grudge.”
“Jane, go,” Heather said.
But all I could think about was Eric. The stories he told me. The last thing his father had ever said to him.
Take care of your mother.
Eric was as good as dead.
You die, I go too, he promised. Well, it went both ways, didn’t it? He couldn’t save himself. And I couldn’t save myself.
&
nbsp; But I could save his mother.
“Let her go,” I said, full of something other than bravado. “You let her go, I’ll come with you. I won’t fight, I promise.”
Carson’s eyes sparked. “Is that so?”
I held up my shoe, like I was planning to throw it. Who knew, maybe I would. I was capable or anything right now.
“Jane,” Heather said. “Jane, no!”
“You’ve already taken Eric,” I said. “You might as well take me too, because without him, I’m dead anyway.”
“That’s very romantic,” Carson replied. “And disappointingly melodramatic for a daughter of mine.” He tapped his fingers on his chin. “Very well.” He turned to Anton. “Take her home. Then meet us at the house.”
“Jane!” Heather shouted as Jude practically tossed her into Anton’s bloody hands. “Jane, no!”
“Go!” I shouted, even as I dropped my shoe to the ground. As soon as the spiked heel hit the pavement, I was swept up by Jude’s deceptively strong arms and hauled toward the car. The door shut on me and Jude, with Carson sitting in the passenger seat beside the driver.
“Go,” was all Carson said, and we drove off, leaving Heather floundering with Anton.
“Let me go!” I wriggled my arm out of Jude’s grasp. He just laughed, not seeming to care. And why should he? I had given myself up. I was trapped, yet again, by these men who never seemed to let me or mine go.
“You betrayed him,” I snapped. “You sniveling, two-faced, spoiled fucking brat, you betrayed him!”
“Just like you knew I would, my little dog eater,” he answered. “But your boy, unfortunately, was too stupid to realize it.” Jude cackled. He actually cackled, like some kind of deranged cartoon villain. “Did you really think it would be that easy to overcome a man who has been two steps ahead, every single time?”
“That’s enough, Hermes.”
“You’re an asshole,” I snapped at Jude. “Both of you are going down for this. I hope you know that. You can kill me and Eric if that’s what you really want, but there are too many people who know what you’ve done. My mother. Eric’s cousin. Our friends. The entire fucking district attorney’s office. You think you’re going to get away with this kind of thing forever? Everyone’s power has limits, you entitled fucking pricks! Even yours!”
The Love Trap (Quicksilver Book 3) Page 34