by Lily White
Before I can answer, Adeline comes out of her room and stares at us from the doorway leading into the hall. Her hair is beginning to dry, but still damp, her face a mask of contempt aimed directly at me.
While I stare back at her, refusing to give ground on the newest battle we’re fighting, Lincoln fills the silence.
“Why do you never wear pants?”
Her blue eyes release the hate stare from my face to flick to Lincoln. “Because the jerk sitting beside you never gives me any.”
He turns to me. “I bought her some when you asked me to. Where are they?”
Adeline’s eyes are back to hate staring me while Lincoln continues glaring a hole in the side of my face. I focus on the computer in my lap and decide they’re never allowed to be in the same room together again. Fuck this teamwork bullshit.
Grant sits in his living room with three men I don’t recognize, a cognac in one hand, cigar dangling from another. Fucker doesn’t have sound, but I don’t need to hear them to know they’re enjoying whatever conversation they’re having, shit eating grins adorning each of their faces.
What interests me more is the woman lingering near where Grant sits. It’s not his sister, and judging by the silk robe she’s wearing that’s open enough to reveal the side of her breast, she isn’t there to discuss investing.
“There are shorts in the same dresser in Adeline’s room where the t-shirts and underwear are that I’ve been giving her. If she’d bothered to stop acting like a scared bunny and looked, she would have found them over a week ago.”
A few taps of the keys and I’m looking at Grant’s bedroom to see the bed linens are rumpled as if someone had been there recently.
I’m not surprised, but it still pisses me off to see him continue playing the grieving husband on television while he’s already replaced his wife.
Adeline makes a disgusted sound at what I said and storms off in search of proper clothes. Let her be mad. I’m not here to coddle her, I’m here to build her up again.
I take the opportunity to turn the computer in Lincoln’s direction for him to draw the same conclusion as me about Grant’s activities.
He curses under his breath. “Are you going to tell her?”
I glance up at the now empty doorway where she’d once stood. “Think it’ll be enough for her to stop being a kid and do something about her abuser for once? We can’t take care of her forever. Not if she learns the truth about me and runs.”
“You want her to pull the trigger, don’t you?”
Nodding, I tap my thumb against the computer. “I want her to take back her power. If she hates me, I’ll have to let her go. Completely this time. She can’t be afraid to take care of herself.”
Our eyes meet, and Lincoln shakes his head. “Might as well mention Grant put a price on her head. It may be enough.”
The only problem with mentioning that would be that I’d also have to confess how I happened to have that information.
Guessing now is as good a time as any to rip back another curtain, I glance up to find Adeline staring at us from the doorway again, her eyes jumping between us as the skin between them crinkles in question.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, concern touching her expression.
I breathe out, mentally preparing myself for this conversation. Sadly, the fact I kill people for a living isn’t the worst of it.
“Come here, baby bird. There’s something I need to show you.”
Adeline
Two men stare at me from where they sit on the couch. Both are practically strangers, men I wouldn’t have recognized a few months ago had I passed them on the street. Yet, in a way, I feel like I know both of them.
They’re opposite in many ways. Where Ari is so dark shadows appear to cling to him even beneath the lights above his head, Lincoln is lighter, his skin tone more pale, his hair and eyes a golden brown.
Ari, it seems, is always the picture of sophistication, even when dodging whatever I happen to throw at him, while Lincoln is rough around the edges, a brute strength compared to Ari’s savage grace.
Both men are much bigger than me, their shoulder spans equal, their height about the same. Even now, they fill up the space around them, their long legs stretched in front of the sofa, Lincoln’s legs slightly spread while Ari crosses his at the ankle.
Even their voices contrast. Both deep, Ari’s is a smooth baritone that whispers at the ear with subtle warning and a seductive taunt, and Lincoln’s is a gritty rumble, the blunt tone the kind that kick-starts a woman’s heart.
I should fear both of them. I know that. Obviously, I know nothing about them, but you can’t look at these men without realizing you’re outgunned. Maybe it’s the way they carry themselves, so at ease amidst violence. I can almost picture them walking calmly through battle, Ari laughing at the gore because everything is a joke to him, while Lincoln snaps the necks of everyone they pass.
They’re hot and cold. Their confidence - their arrogance - enough to make any intelligent person think twice before crossing them.
And they’ve both been watching me since I was a teenager. The only question I have is why?
“What do you need to show me?”
I cross my arms over my chest, still attempting to rebel against the beautiful jerk who makes it his life mission to piss me off. Although I bristle at him calling me a baby bird, I still at the tone of his voice.
It’s missing the usual teasing quality he always takes with me, the game he’s playing lost in the way he called me over. Whatever they’re looking at is enough to make them both hesitant to show me, and I want to turn and run instead of walk over there.
Ari pats the couch cushion beside him before looking at Lincoln, smacking him at the back of the head and demanding he scoot over to give me room.
I laugh before I can stop myself only because it’s comforting to see the easy friendship they have with each other. Glaring at Ari like he’s about to smack back, Lincoln shoves his body to the farthest seat, giving me plenty of space between them.
Wondering how much a woman would pay to sit in that spot between these two men, I take slow steps forward, careful to step around the broken glass on the floor.
Ari keeps his stare locked on my face, something vicious rolling behind his grey eyes. Still, I drop my gaze to the line of his cruel lips, my body tingling as I step closer.
Dressed in only a pair of dark pants, Ari’s upper body is bare to my eyes, the smooth, golden color deepening to a shadowed copper in the valleys of his muscular physique.
My eyes run down the ridges of flexed muscle, the tight washboard of his abs and tapered waist, the bulge of his biceps and his corded forearms. It’s hard not to look at him.
When I drag my gaze back up, his mouth tugs into an arrogant smirk. He knows how my body reacts to his, the way I want him even when I wish I could wrap my hands around his throat to choke him for the games he plays.
“Sit. We won’t bite,” he jokes.
I have the bruises that say different, every one of them tingling in reminder of where his mouth has been. On my inner thighs, my breast, my butt.
Finally taking a seat, I tug my cotton shorts down to cover one of those bruises, Ari’s eyes flicking to the movement while Lincoln’s arm stretches around my shoulders.
Ari immediately shoves Lincoln’s arm away, the two men leaning back to stare at each other.
Lincoln smiles while Ari narrows his eyes, and I laugh again to see someone screwing with Ari as hard as he screws with me.
The stare down ends when Lincoln chuckles and pulls his arm away, Ari giving him one last warning glare before turning the screen of the computer in his lap to me.
Pointing at one person in view, he asks, “Who is that woman?”
My attention doesn’t snap to the woman he’s pointing at, instead my brows tug together at the recognition of the room several people are sitting in, the black and white camera feed flickering just slightly.
“Is that Grant
’s house?”
Ari taps the screen on the woman again. “Who is she?”
“How do you have cameras inside Grant’s house?”
A vein of anger unravels inside me. How long has he had these?
“That’s not what’s important. Just tell me who she is.”
“How long have you had cameras in his house?”
My head turns, and I stare up at him. Grey eyes pin mine, his face so close that I can feel the heat of his breath against my cheek.
“Why do you always want to look at me like I’m the bad guy? Stop worrying about what I’ve done, and start paying attention to what I’m trying to show you.”
Because he is the bad guy. He just refuses to see it. “How long, Ari? Have you been watching us this entire time?”
“They’re Grant’s cameras. I simply borrowed them.”
“That doesn’t excuse what you’ve done.”
Lincoln speaks at my back, interrupting the argument.
“Your husband has two rewards out on you, Adeline. One for information on your whereabouts and safe return, and one for someone to kill you. Would you like to know which reward is higher?”
A cold chill rolls down my spine at what he says. I don’t have to ask which reward is higher. I already know my husband wants me dead.
Peeling my eyes from Ari’s face, I look down at the screen and feel a new wave of anger for an entirely different reason. “That’s Patricia. Grant’s secretary.”
“Ah, well, that explains the late nights at the office he blamed on your sleep issues.”
“How do you know he was doing that to me?” My head snaps up again.
Ari stares at me with such a placid expression, the lack of morality of his stalking not a concern at all.
“We should continue this relationship on the basis that I know everything. Stop asking stupid questions.”
His finger taps on the screen, drawing my attention down again. “Who are these three men?”
Not recognizing them as business associates, I shrug. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen any of them before.”
Ari taps a few keys to zoom in on their faces and take a screenshot.
“Then that’s for me to figure out. Most likely they’re the people who knew how to get the word out there is a price on your head. Hiring an assassin isn’t exactly easy to do.”
Assassin? What the hell have I gotten myself involved in? How do Ari and Lincoln even know about a reward for my death if they aren’t somehow involved in whatever fucked up underground network this is?
“How do you two know about him offering money for someone to kill me?”
Lincoln answers, his voice calm. “Because I’m one of the people who got the call.”
When panic at that thought strikes through me, I try to jump up from the couch, but Lincoln puts his arm in front of me, knocking me back.
“Listen, kid, you probably just figured something out that I wish you didn’t know about us, but it is what it is.”
“You both kill people for money,” I guess, hoping like hell they’ll deny it. Their silence is deafening, and it’s all the answer I need.
Ari is the one to break the silence first. “I like to think we solve problems and get paid very well for it. But that’s not the point.”
I can’t do this. None of it. I can’t sit here and calmly accept that I have two paid murderers sitting next to me. Can’t accept that those two murderers have been watching me.
My stomach rolls, and I think I might puke, my body jumping forward again so I can run across the room.
The instant my foot hits glass and rips the skin, I yelp and start to fall, a set of arms catching me as Ari’s deep voice hisses against my ear.
“Dammit, Adeline, what the fuck were you thinking?”
He picks me up and carries me to a table where he sets me on the edge. Grabbing my foot, he crouches down to examine the damage.
“You’re lucky this didn’t go very deep.”
“I’ll grab a first aid kit,” Lincoln grumbles as he pushes up to his feet. Ari waits for him to disappear around a corner before looking up at my face.
“You wanted to know who I am, and I told you to let it go. This is why.”
Tears well in my eyes at the anger in his expression. “What else should I know? Why not just get it all out now so I know what to expect? You kill people for a living, and both of you sit there acting like it’s no big deal. That’s fucked up.”
He smirks. “A lot in life is fucked up, baby bird. Eventually, you’ll grow up and learn to get over it.”
My blood trickles down the side of his hand, his eyes holding mine. I try to tug my foot away, but his fingers clamp down.
“I’m grown,” I argue.
“No. You’re not. But I don’t hold it against you. Your parents died when you were young, and then you flailed for several years before Grant came along and attempted to take over. You’ve yet to establish your own footing in this world, and that’s why you can’t look past what I’ve done to see that I’m the only reason you’re still breathing.”
Plastic slaps down on the table beside me, and I jump at the noise. Turning, I see Lincoln cock a brow at me before he walks back to the couch to drop his body down on the leather. Stretching his arms over the backrest and his long longs over the floor, he says nothing as Ari grabs the first aid kit, flips the lid and begins digging around for supplies to tend my injury.
The alcohol pad stings my skin, drawing my attention back to a man who refuses to see my point in this screwed up situation.
Without looking up at me, he keeps talking.
“So, here’s where you either hate us and make judgments about us without looking at the entire picture, or you can pop whatever bubble you’ve lived in that led you to believe the world is a pretty place with well-defined borders between right and wrong.”
He rubs ointment over the cut and wraps my foot with a bandage before glancing up at me again.
“Your husband is trying to kill you. That’s what you need to worry about now. And I’m the man who is going to ensure he doesn’t succeed and that he never has the chance to hurt you again. We should focus on that before worrying about all the other details about me.”
I don’t like it, but I know better than to argue with him. When it comes to all this, I know nothing about hired killers and vengeful husbands intent on murdering their wives.
Setting aside all the questions I have about Ari, I ask another one instead.
“What do you need from me to help you?”
Ari’s eyes glimmer, a ghost of a grin stretching his lips.
“I need you to tell me everything there is to know about Grant. The places he goes to, the business associates he has, the codes to all his safes and whatever else you can think of. The man has secrets, and I need to know them.”
Ari
Adeline truly knows nothing about her husband. I’d assumed he’d kept some information from her, but not all of it.
After an hour of Lincoln and I questioning her like she was undergoing a police interrogation, we all sit back frustrated, and we’re nowhere near closer to figuring out how to corner Grant when he least expects it.
Lincoln scrubs a hand down his face and glances at me, nothing good in his exhausted expression.
I turn to look at Adeline where she sits on the piano bench, her face angled to the floor, her hands wringing in her lap.
“He really just had you scheduling dinner parties and shopping the entire time you were married, didn’t he?”
Her shoulders slouch forward, and I realize we just made her feel like utter shit for the amount of control she’d given her husband over her life.
“That and I had to meet with his sister for lunch every day,” she answers bitterly, her voice as crushed as her spirit.
I never appreciated the full scope of how much he’d changed her in so short a time. This wasn’t the girl I knew. Adeline may have been out of control, but she wasn’t weak.
<
br /> Unable to hide my anger, I ask, “Why would you let him do that to you? What could possibly have motivated you to give him everything without demanding anything in return?”
She shoots me a look, and I instantly regret the question. “Our situation is different.”
Adeline rolls her eyes.
“I was broke for the most part. I mean, that’s not the only reason I married him. But I was flailing, like you said. I thought Grant would balance me. Teach me to be more like him. He was responsible and successful and had his shit together when I felt like all I was doing was digging my hole deeper.”
“Being inexperienced doesn’t mean you need to give up on yourself, kid.” Lincoln stares over at her with sympathy behind his eyes.
A weak shrug of her shoulders. “My father always took care of my mother. I assumed that’s how it worked. It’s not exactly like I had either of them around to ask questions.”
And now I feel like even more of an ass for being the cause of that problem. At the mention of her father, I know we need to change subjects pronto.
Shifting my position on the couch, I run a hand through my hair before stretching my arm over the backrest and tapping my fingers on the leather.
“Well, that explains why you looked dead inside in all your photos online a few months into the marriage.”
Adeline’s head snaps up, her eyes narrowing to glare at me.
Before she can bitch, I say, “Stalker, remember? I know everything. Moving on.”
Lips pulling into a thin line, she looks away, goes back to twiddling her fingers.
All three of us fall into an uncomfortable silence, but then Lincoln breaks it with a thought I’d already considered and shot down several times.
“Maybe we should use Adeline to draw him out.”
“No,” I say immediately. “Absolutely not. I’m not risking her life for this.”
Adeline dances her gaze between both of us, not following the train of thought that can go careening off the side of a cliff for as much as it’s not happening.