Mafia Romance
Page 88
When she turned, she looked into his dark eyes, saw the satisfaction on his face that she knew was on hers.
“I’d actually wanted to harass you to sign those papers, but that’s a good second place,” she said.
He smiled quickly and then said, “Come to my place tonight.”
She nodded, smiled. Then she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, Lucian pulled out of his parking garage and began the familiar trek to his family’s old home. He’d quickly check on Damien and then go to the office. Cassandra was still inside his apartment, and it had been nearly impossible for Lucian to leave her. He had, though, because he had work to finish, work he knew wouldn’t get done if he stayed with Cassandra.
As he pushed his SUV down the highway, a little over the speed limit but not as fast as he wanted, he let his mind wander. It landed on the woman he hoped would be waiting for him when he returned home. Cassandra meant more to him than he could really express, and they needed to have a talk about where they stood, where they hoped to take this thing.
There was something else, though.
Anxiousness he didn’t really understand crawled at the base of his skull, a feeling of unease that had been there since Cassandra had called him from the café. He tried to tell himself it was simply a comedown from the fear of losing her, but something still didn’t sit right with him.
They’d gone through Tammy’s background, found the small house she’d been living in, and all they had found confirmed that she’d been obsessed with Cassandra for years.
It had been so easy.
Too easy, to Lucian’s mind.
He hadn’t seen Tammy, but there was no doubt that she was profoundly mentally ill. So much so, it was impossible for Lucian to imagine how she’d survived all those years on her own. But she had, or at least she’d seemed to.
He punched the Bluetooth connect button on his steering wheel.
“What?” Adam said gruffly.
“Glad you’re still your usual sunny self, Adam,” Lucian said, allowing himself a moment to laugh.
“Can I help you with something, boss?” he said.
“You have the file on hand?”
“Cassandra’s crazy lab partner? It’s right here. What am I looking for?” Adam said.
“Not certain, but something’s not sitting right,” he said.
“I’m getting that feeling too,” Adam said. “It’s feeling a little neat, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Lucian said somewhat distantly. “What’s picking at you?”
“The ever-eager Seth was looking back through the records and found a couple more things that looked like they were worth investigating.”
“Things like what?” Lucian said, hitting the gas a little bit harder unconsciously before easing off it.
“I find it suspect that good old Tammy was capable of staying off the radar so long,” he said.
“This is going somewhere,” Lucian said, certain it was.
“You familiar with America’s New Dawn?”
He was. They’d reached their pinnacle during the militia craze in the nineties, using rhetoric and politics to front what had ultimately been a standard gun-and-drug-smuggling ring.
“Yeah, I know them. Didn’t they splinter, with most of the leadership getting killed or sent to prison?” Lucian asked.
“They did. In particular, one Wayland Lee Miller.”
“Tammy’s father?” Lucian said.
“Bingo. Presumed dead in a shoot-out and subsequent fire,” Adam said.
“Presumed,” Lucian said.
“Not a comforting word, right?” Adam said.
“Nope,” Lucian said, anxiety flaring. He needed certainty, or as much as he could where Cassandra was concerned, and he’d get it.
“Wayland’s death occurred on poor Tammy’s twelfth birthday. Apparently lost two of her brothers in the fire, which only left her with two,” Adam said.
“This fire happened the year before she was institutionalized?”
“Eleven months.”
“And those two other brothers?”
“One’s dead, arms deal gone bad. The other is enjoying an extended stay in Supermax,” Adam said.
“So what else?” Lucian said, knowing there had to be more.
“Well, Wayland was a busy guy. He had yet another son with a young lady who happened not to be his wife.”
“Another Miller,” Lucian said, his stomach dropping.
“Yep. Went to foster care, apparently. No real intel on him since 2005.”
“And you think he was in contact with Tammy?”
“Don’t know. But it would explain a lot, and I figure it’s worth tracking down. I don’t like loose ends,” Adam said.
“Me either. Find him,” Lucian said, his voice far more calm than he felt.
The steel vise around his stomach tightened, but he pushed it aside. Now wasn’t the time to lose it—he’d hold it together until he saw her. Lucian looked out of the rearview mirror and felt that band tighten.
“Fuck,” Lucian muttered.
“Silver?” Adam’s tone had taken on a questioning edge, but Lucian could barely pay attention.
He was too focused on the blue lights that lit up his rearview mirror.
“Get someone on Cassandra. I’ll call you back,” he said.
Then he disconnected and slowly pulled over, doing everything in his power not to curse this turn of events.
Fuck, but he did not need this, he thought. He stayed calm. It was a temporary delay, and one of the guys would be with Cassie until he got there.
He reached into his glove compartment, making sure he moved slowly, and retrieved his registration and insurance information.
He’d be nice, this would be over in a few minutes, and then he’d be on his way.
He didn’t get that chance.
“Step out of the vehicle with your hands interlaced behind your head.”
The loud voice came over the speaker, authoritative, and far more intense than it should’ve been given what was simply a routine traffic stop.
Those nerves that had started to slacken ever so slightly at the formulation of the plan of action intensified all over again.
Lucian did as instructed, trying to be as nonthreatening as he could muster, but with each passing moment his worry intensified.
“Are you armed?” the state patrol officer asked as he stepped toward Lucian.
“Glock in the glove compartment,” Lucian said.
“And the paperwork for it?”
In that instant, his mind couldn’t help but venture back to the unsigned form that still sat on his desk, hoping that Cassandra would be nice enough to not say “I told you so.”
* * *
As the sun was starting to shine more brightly, Cassandra stood, stretched, and then made her way around the apartment.
It had become familiar in the time she had spent here, but she hadn’t had a chance to be here alone.
Now, though, she took the place in, searching for hints of Lucian’s personality, wondering if he had done the same when he had been in her space.
Probably.
He liked to tease her for being closed off, but he wasn’t exactly an open book himself, and this opportunity to see his home, get to know him a little bit better, was one that she’d take advantage of.
She still didn’t know what would happen, and as the days had passed, she’d considered it more. The idea of him being friendlier to her, but still treating her as an employee, would be difficult, a transition that she didn’t know she’d be able to make, especially not the way she felt now, with his scent still on her, her skin rough with the scrape of his beard, her body sore from his ministrations.
No. There was no way they could go back to the way things had been before. No way she could, anyway.
She didn’t know what it meant for him, and that thought disheartened her, made her a little bit sad, but she
wouldn’t let that hold her down. She really was going to stick to her resolution to let the future take care of itself. So she dressed and prepared to make herself breakfast, pausing for only a moment to reflect on how much had changed in such a short period of time.
Half an hour later, she’d sat down to eat her scrambled eggs and toast when there was a knock at the door.
She froze, looked at the huge portal, wondering who it could be.
Then she chided herself for being silly, knew she should shake off those last remnants of paranoia.
Tammy was gone. Besides, she was at Lucian’s place, the one that had a doorman and forty-two other stories, not to mention whatever top-notch security Lucian had included. She was better off here than she would ever be anywhere else.
The knock sounded again, and she stood, sparing a moment to gaze longingly at her rapidly cooling eggs, and then walked toward the door.
It was probably Seth or Adam, or maybe Cruz, though he was probably with Nola. But it had to be someone she knew. There was no reason to worry, she thought.
The blast of what she instantly recognized as a shotgun changed her mind.
Chapter Nineteen
“This is all a really big misunderstanding,” Lucian said.
The state patrol officer mustered enough energy to give him a smile that said he’d never heard that one before, and then he went back to writing in his notebook.
Lucian had been in the backseat of a police car before, but never in this situation, and definitely not when the need to see Cassandra burned into his brain like a fire, not when he was so fucking concerned for her he thought he might come out of his skin.
Not that the officer noticed or cared.
He had probably heard that excuse, or some variation of it, a thousand times before, but Lucian knew that wasn’t the sum of it. Lucian had been speeding, the conversation with Adam having made his normally heavy foot even heavier, but nothing so bad as to warrant such an over-the-top reaction. A leftover of Damien’s notoriety, and by extension, Silver Industries’.
“Lots of paperwork on this one. Your lucky day, I guess,” Lucian said.
“And not yours, apparently,” the trooper replied. Then he went back to scribbling.
Lucian stewed as he sat in the back of the car. His brazen incompetence warred with anxiety during the seemingly interminable ride to trooper headquarters and the long walk to the holding cell.
The urge to rip the bars off the door, or try to, to get to Cassandra was so strong he could barely hold it in. But he couldn’t do anything that would delay him longer. Adam had heard some of the call, had probably guessed there was trouble, and Lucian trusted that he knew what to do.
Either way, he’d be out of here soon enough. In the meantime, he’d have to wait.
And try to stay sane.
* * *
Cass stared at the gaping hole where the doorknob had been, oddly fascinated with it.
The integrity of the door remained. The door was splintered where the knob had been but the splinters got smaller and smaller as they fanned out to a smooth surface.
One that could almost make her believe that everything was as it had been just moments ago.
If she tilted her head just right, she wouldn’t even see the hole, just Lucian’s door.
That wasn’t possible when the door was thrown open and a man stepped inside.
She didn’t want to look at him, but much like the hole that he had shot into the door, she was unable to look away.
He stared back at her, watching her curiously, and never had Cassandra felt more like a frog on the dissection table.
Her blood ran cold at that thought, and she quickly looked up to meet his eyes. Flat blue, not menacing, not warm. Empty, completely unfeeling.
Cassandra’s heart began to pound, her armpits suddenly becoming damp with the new rush of terror.
“A friend of Tammy’s?” she asked, her voice trembling when she finally managed to find one.
“‘Tammy’? I didn’t realize you two knew each other,” he said.
“I didn’t either, at least not until recently,” Cass replied, deciding that directness was probably her best approach. This guy was nuts; there was no other way to explain him risking coming to Lucian’s apartment. But, though he was crazy, he seemed more wound together than the last insane person Cassandra had encountered, and his degree of calm made Cassandra think he could handle the truth much better than Tammy had.
He lifted one corner of his mouth, though the expression was one she wouldn’t dare call a smile.
“That doesn’t surprise me. Tammy could get…intense,” he said, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. “You ever figure out what it was about you that she liked so much?”
Cassandra risked meeting his eyes again and then quickly shook her head.
He shrugged. “Me neither, but I guess that’s beside the point now,” he said.
“I guess. So…”
The man lifted his brows, the shaggy brown giving his expression an almost friendly tilt, except for the dead coldness that seemed to shoot from his eyes like lasers of ice.
“So…so what?”
“So is there something I can help you with?” she asked, hoping he’d have a simple request, one that would allow her to be free of this entire sad experience forever.
He frowned. “Maybe I’m here for revenge. Tammy was as crazy as a shithouse rat, but she was my sister,” he said.
Cass said nothing, not certain of what she would, not certain that anything she did say would make the slightest bit of difference.
And yet he watched her, his expression not changing.
Then, slowly, the corners of his mouth turned up, then his cheeks lifted, transforming his entire face, giving him that mimic of friendliness.
“Just kidding. Shame about Tammy, but I told her to leave you alone,” he said.
Cassandra couldn’t stop her exhale of surprise.
He shrugged again.
“I did. I warned her. But she might have been smarter than I gave her credit for.”
And just like that, his features were again flat, eyes empty, and that feeling of being the frog being prepped for dissection returned triple force.
“Do I even want to know?” Cassandra asked, her voice coming out weak, shaky. She didn’t want to know, but he would tell her anyway.
“Probably not.”
“But you’re going to tell me anyway,” Cassandra said, her voice again trembling.
“Yes. I am,” he said, lifting his face in a blood-chilling smile. “Tammy’s been breathing over your pictures for years, but I never paid it any mind. At least, I didn’t until I happened to see that you are in the employ of some very interesting people,” he said.
Cassandra’s heart seized. If Silver Industries was of interest, this situation had gone to an entirely different level.
“What’s your name?” Cassandra asked.
“Elton. My mother’s pick,” he said. Then he narrowed his eyes on her. “Where were we?”
Cassandra’s first impulse was to stay silent but the expression on his face told her he would not be amused by that.
“You were telling me I came to your attention,” Cassandra said.
He snapped his fingers. “Yeah. Tammy happened to take a picture of none other than Lucian Silver. At your house. With you.”
“I work for him,” Cassandra said slowly, carefully.
“Cassandra”—he paused—“do you mind if I call you Cassandra?” She nodded and he continued. “I might have believed you. Might have. But you know what else I found?”
He narrowed his eyes on her again, his expression one that said he demanded an answer.
She shook her head, her throat unwilling to relax enough to let her voice out.
“Another picture. One of you and Damien Silver. One brother I can overlook. Two not so much. And since you’re still around after all that…unpleasantness, I couldn’t help but think old Tammy had stumbled onto s
omeone important,” he said.
She risked glancing up at Elton, hoping he wasn’t insinuating what she thought he was. One look at him proved her wrong. “I’m not, Elton, and I don’t have anything of value,” she replied, finding her voice from somewhere.
His eyes flashed and he smiled quickly. “Don’t be so modest, Cassandra. You are important, and I believe you do have something important,” he said.
“No, I don’t. My role at Silver Industries is very limited, I don’t have any higher-level clearances. A man of your caliber wouldn’t find anything I might know of value.”
“Even if what you say is true, it doesn’t matter much. You might not have the information, but Silver does, and I wonder what he’d be willing to give up to get you back,” he said.
Cassandra’s knees threatened to buckle, her chest pulled tight with worry, but she stood strong.
“Elton, you can walk right out of here. Leave and end this before it gets started,” she said.
He snorted. “I think I’ll stay. Please have a seat, Cassandra.” He looked toward her cold eggs and toast. Cassandra was glad she hadn’t taken a bite, certain she wouldn’t have been able to keep anything down. He turned back to her.
“Do you mind if I have some breakfast?”
Chapter Twenty
Lucian stared at the metal bars and the small Plexiglas window, trying to figure out how best to break the glass and then shrink himself to get out of the window. He’d been here for forty-five minutes already. It felt like forty-five hours, forty-five days, and the seconds were only getting longer, his fear for Cassandra having morphed to a level he had never experienced, not even in the desert or the jungle.
Here, on his turf, in his home, he was powerless to help the woman he now realized he loved.
He tried to tell himself he was overreacting, remind himself that he had no evidence that Tammy’s brother was alive, or even that he had any interest in Cassandra.
Tried and failed.
Because the rationalizations, the theories, none of them calmed the raging concern in his mind and nothing would until he saw her.
Which seemed less likely as each moment passed. He hadn’t even gotten his promised phone call, and who knew when that would happen?