Surrender

by Lisa Renee Jones

  First and foremost, David is dead and I don’t want to end up that way. And since I have the necklace, and I’m 99.999 percent sure that’s what got him killed, I’m now a target. If I call the police, whoever is looking for it and me will find me.

  I start walking, cutting left into a quiet neighborhood only blocks from the craziness of the busy Champs-Élysées Boulevard, where I don’t plan to return. My mind begins ticking through options. There are people I could call right now, but I’ve burned bridges and I don’t know who I can trust. Hell. For all I know, those burned bridges have something to do with why I’m involved in this. Knowing I need answers and shelter until I can get them, I cut into a chocolate shop, pull my phone out of my pocket, and punch in the only number in Paris I have. Garner Neuville’s.

  “Ah, ma belle,” he answers in one ring. “I am pleased you have called.”

  I’m no damsel in distress, but right now this sexy Frenchman makes me feel a little less alone, and I’ve been alone for a very long time. I hate that I feel this. I hate that it’s a sign of weakness I cannot afford, but it’s a living, breathing sensation—I’m alive, in the way I intend to stay.

  “I’m in trouble and need help,” I say, forced to this admission to ensure he helps me avoid the police. And for reasons I can’t understand, I am certain he will.

  “Where are you?” is all he asks.

  I give him my location and end the call, intending to tell him David is dead and I fear for my safety, but nothing more. The question now is, what do I do with the necklace?

  The memory fades, and I know those people I wanted to call but didn’t are connected to the men in the black sedan. They were CIA, and I didn’t trust them enough to call them for help. It’s an answer. Finally an answer.

  “I know why I was with Neuville,” I whisper, my lashes snapping open to find us already pulling up to the front of the castle, already sealed inside the gated front yard. It’s then that my gaze lands on the rearview mirror, Adriel’s gaze meeting mine, and when his instantly darkens with anger, I know that I’ve done something that’s not as simple as opening up a can of worms. I’ve angered a beast who now wants blood in the form of answers.

  That beast, I realize in that moment, with astounding clarity, was also the last one to see Niccolo’s men alive. The same men who we believe mugged me and who may well have had the necklace they’d taken from me.

  three

  For several more beats, Adriel and I stare at each other, our gazes locked in a collision course of questions and accusations thrown in both directions. He obviously wants to know why we’ve kept him in the dark, while I want to know if he ever really has been at all.

  “Obviously,” Kayden states, his fingers flexing at my knee, “there are conversations to be had.”

  “After we talk,” I say, ensuring Kayden understands I’m not ready to be forced into this here and now. And I don’t give either of them time to challenge that declaration, or to try to bypass that order with a question. I exit the vehicle before my statement can become a discussion. I don’t even bother to shut the door behind me, assuming Kayden’s exit as well. But also afraid he might snag my hand or arm, and press the conversation, I am quick to dart toward the concrete steps.

  Starting the upward climb, I can feel Kayden behind me but don’t turn, since I know he has questions about my statement regarding Neuville, which I’m not ready to answer with Adriel present. Almost at the porch I reach for my purse, digging for my electronic key, but by the time I’m at the security panel Kayden is behind me, his big body framing mine. His hands rest on the wall on either side of me.

  “He lives here, Ella,” he says softly, his breath warm near my ear. “It’s time to bring him into the loop.”

  “I know how close he is to us,” I say, quickly swiping my card and keying in my code before turning to face him. “Which is exactly why—”

  “A private word, if you will, Kayden,” Adriel says from behind us.

  “It’s time,” Kayden repeats.

  “After you hear me out,” I say, and to drive home how important I believe that is, I add, “Hawk.”

  His eyes darken, his stare probing, seconds ticking by before he gives a barely perceivable nod, steps to the left to open the heavy, arched wooden door, and waves me forward. “I’ll meet you inside.”

  I don’t wait for my reprieve to somehow expire, nor do I let myself process or dissect what I’ve remembered just yet. Distance and time between me and Adriel is my goal, and I enter the oval foyer, two arched wooden doors framing me left and right, East and West. And while I fully intend to hurry toward the West Tower that Kayden and I call home, somehow I’ve stopped walking, and I’m staring down at the stone floor, remembering Kayden’s young hunter Enzo lying on the rug that was once there, bleeding out. Almost instantly, that image transforms into David lying on a Paris sidewalk, also bleeding to death. Then another shift, and it’s my father, his long, powerful body stretched out on the kitchen floor, limp in a pool of his own blood. So strong, so amazingly strong, and then just . . . dead.

  Emotions well in my chest, and while I know these images connect by way of death and me as common denominators, there’s more to what my mind is telling me. Something I don’t understand. But when I would shut my eyes and reach for that “more,” instead I find a prickling sensation of not being alone, of being watched. My eyes open and my gaze jerks toward the massive stairwell leading to the Center Tower, but find no one there. Not Marabella or Giada, who live with us, or anyone who might be visiting. Uneasy, I scan the second-floor balcony left and right before focusing on the center again, still finding no one.

  Trying to shake off the sensation, I walk to the security panel by our door, punch in the code, and watch the door begin to rise, but the prickling doesn’t fade. Impatient to find out if it’s gone once I’m in the tower, I duck under the half-open door into the mini-foyer, punching the button there to shut myself inside. I watch the dungeon-style door begin lowering and glance up at the stairwell leading to the main living space, before turning my attention to the arched entryway to an office den. I wait for the prickling sensation, but it doesn’t follow me here, and I know without a doubt that someone had been watching me out there. Giada maybe, hiding in some corner and trying to figure out what was happening? But . . . it didn’t feel like her energy.

  Walking forward, I enter the den, the motion detectors triggering the lights to a dull glow, while I flip on the fireplace in the corner, hanging my coat and purse on the rack to my left. Continuing onward into the room, I bypass the leather couches framed by bookshelves loaded with books I pray a calmer time will allow me to explore soon. Instead, I make a beeline to a massive mahogany desk, where I step between the two high-backed chairs sitting in front of it and press my hands to the shiny surface. “My past has nothing to do with that necklace,” I say out loud, my voice firm. But the way my mind is connecting past and present, and the sensation I had when I’d said the same to Niccolo, declares otherwise.

  The sound of the entry door beginning to rise again has me turning and watching it lift. Kayden ducks under it as I had, obviously impatient to find out what I’ve remembered, his leather jacket and his shoulder holster missing, his navy T-shirt hugging his broad, hard chest. It is then that I am reminded of what made me request that we talk alone. It’s not something he wants to hear, but has to. I need him to listen. And I need to stay focused on my memories, and what they’re telling me—not what he makes me think and feel, or what the past tells him about Adriel.

  He strides toward me, his energy predatory in this moment. Actually, there is always something rather predatory about him, which is far too sexy to ensure conversation, especially after today’s shift in events. I could be CIA. I could be his enemy, no matter what he says otherwise, and really, truly, right now, I just want to feel him close, to get lost with him in the way he makes me get lost. But there are thing
s bigger than us at stake, things that are far too complicated and dangerous to indulge in such desires, even if they feel like needs.

  Determined to stay focused, I round the desk, placing the massive wooden surface between us. By the time I’ve shoved back the desk chair, claimed the spot in front of it, and pressed my hands to the surface again, Kayden is doing the same opposite me.

  His gaze meets mine, his probing, intelligent eyes those of a Hawk who sees the past clawing at me, while I fight to contain it and control it. “Why are you running from me?” he asks.

  “I don’t run,” I say, and I can almost hear my father say, “Running makes you a victim. Never be a victim.”

  “Then why are you over there while I’m over here, when we’d both much rather you be here or me there?”

  “I’m giving us space to have the conversation I need to have with The Hawk—not with the man who loves me.”

  The predatory gleam in those pale, too blue eyes of his softens, right along with his voice. “He’s the same person. I will always be The Hawk and the man who loves you.”

  “And therein lies a problem. When you operate as The Hawk, you can’t be the man who loves me or you’ll make decisions you might not otherwise. And that could put you and other people at risk. I won’t be that person in your life.”

  “You make me more cautious, sweetheart, and believe me, that’s not a bad thing.”

  “You were always cautious. I’ve seen that in everything you do from the moment we met.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Nothing’s wrong with caution,” I say, deciding to use the opportunity presented, “and that’s exactly what I’m going to ask you to have with Adriel.”

  “You helped him return to hunting,” he reminds me, “and he’d die for you, Ella, just like he would for me.”

  “He was the last person to see Niccolo’s men alive. And while I can’t fathom how I’d actually have brought that necklace with me and given it to Niccolo, maybe I had a plan to get it back. Or maybe I knew it was a decoy. Maybe I had it on me and Niccolo’s men took it.”

  Kayden straightens, his expression incredulous, his hands settling on his hips. “You actually think Adriel took it from them? He didn’t know you were involved in this, any more than I did.”

  “You don’t think he did,” I say. “Or maybe he didn’t and he still doesn’t, but he would have searched those men. If they had it, he would have found it.”

  “And brought it to me.”

  “You can’t be sure,” I say. “You can’t know he didn’t sell you out. You cut him out of hunting, Kayden. He resented that.”

  “Adriel always had the power to come back, and he knew it,” Kayden replies. “He didn’t resent me. He resented Giada for forcing him to make the decision to get out of the hunting game. Adriel is loyal, Ella. He would die for either one of us.”

  “I want to trust him, Kayden.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Then know that he is one of the only other people on this planet that I’d trust my back or yours to, and I don’t trust my back to anyone.”

  “Those close to us are the ones who can hurt us the easiest,” I say, the words spoken from some dark part of my memory I can’t yet access.

  “Are you talking about Neuville? Or someone before him?”

  “Don’t make this about me.”

  “Tell me why you were with him.”

  “I want to talk about Adriel.”

  “After Neuville. You had a flashback in the car.”

  “I’m not letting this thing with Adriel go,” I insist. “We’re circling back to it.” I don’t give him time to argue. “And yes. I had a flashback.” I sit down in the chair, crossing my arms in front of me. “It was the same moment I’d remembered previously. We were on a deserted Paris sidewalk, and David was bleeding out and warning me to protect the necklace.”

  “What was new about this flashback over the past ones?” Kayden asks, rounding the desk and stopping in front of me, leaning against the hard surface. “Because clearly something was, or you wouldn’t have said you now know why you were with Neuville.”

  “It was more detailed,” I say. “And I knew that I had the necklace in my pocket.”

  “Is that because you ripped the chain beyond repair?”

  My hand goes to my neck. I’d ripped the chain from my neck. “Yes,” I confirm, seeing myself leaning over it where it had landed on the floor—but another memory comes to me, as well. It plays in my mind before I speak it out loud. “But ironically, when we landed in Paris, David had warned me not to wear the necklace. He said it would attract pickpockets.” I grimace. “I hate how I get these random memories, but the entire picture won’t fall into place.”

  “There are more of those random memories now than ever, though,” he reminds me. “When you first woke up, you were completely blank.”

  “Yes,” I agree on a sigh. “There is that, and it seems now that when I talk about a memory, I suddenly know more about it.”

  “Well then, let’s talk about that night,” Kayden says. “Previously, you said that David left you at your hotel and your purse and identification disappeared. Where did you go, and what did you do?”

  “I’d met Neuville in the hotel lobby right after the fight with David. I’d gone downstairs to get coffee at Starbucks, and I couldn’t get my key card to work to go back upstairs. Then the desk staff told me they couldn’t let me in without my identification. I was furious that David had left me in that situation, so when Neuville showed up and asked me to dinner, I accepted.”

  “It’s a safe assumption that he ensured your key card didn’t work,” Kayden notes.

  “I’m guessing that to be true,” I agree. “And when we got back from dinner, things snowballed. I was told my room was no longer active, but they got my suitcase from housekeeping. My purse was missing.”

  “And Neuville was still there.”

  “Yes. He waited with me while I called my credit card companies and found out they were cancelled.” And like a snap of fingers I am back in the hotel lobby, the moment after I’ve discovered my last card is as dead as the other three. Neuville steps in front of me, looking like Mr. Tall, Dark, and Prince Charming in a finely fitted suit, his dark hair slicked back:

  “Your key,” he says, offering me a small envelope.

  I don’t reach for it. “What do you mean?”

  “I paid for two weeks for you. That gives you time to replace your passport, and hopefully have dinner with me at least one more time.”

  “I’m a stranger. Why would you do this? The room is expensive.”

  “The money is of no consequence to me,” he says. “You being on the street, however, I find, is. Take the key, Ella.”

  “This doesn’t mean I—”

  “Of course it doesn’t. There are no strings.”

  Only there were strings, I think bitterly, though I know bitterness is a dangerous emotion. “He paid for my room for two weeks and promised it came with no strings,” I say, shaking myself back to the present. “Which, of course, we now know was all about building a façade of trust.” The way I’d built the one where I was a schoolteacher by trade, I think before adding, “Getting back to David and my flashback—I don’t know how I found him. Maybe it was the address in the necklace. Did you check it out?”

  “I did,” he says. “It’s a large building with residential and commercial tenants. The unit in question is vacant.”

  “Vacant? That makes no sense.”

  “It sounds like a drop location for the necklace.”

  “Who owns the property?”

  “Neuville.”

  “Of course. So everything that happened to me was a setup. Do you have photos of the building? Google Maps or something else that I could loo
k at? I’m wondering if that’s where David died, since that’s the last place I remember having the necklace.”

  He opens a drawer in the desk and pulls out an iPad. I stand and lean on the desk next to him, and he hands me the Google Maps view of the building and street around it. I give a quick shake of my head. “That’s not where David died.” I step in front of Kayden. “If the address was a drop location, why would David leave me with the necklace and with no money or place to stay?”

  “I told you. It’s a decoy.”

  “And yet he told me not to give it to ‘him’ as he died. That makes no sense.”

  Kayden sets the iPad on the desk. “But I’d argue it as fact.”

  “Based on what?”

  “We know that Neuville being there in that hotel, and your needing his help, wasn’t an accident. And if that necklace was real, he would have taken it from you.”

  “Unless I’d already hidden it.”

  “At that point, you didn’t seem to know what was going on.”

  “I’m smart enough to know everything wasn’t as it should be, and I darn sure knew there was a note in the necklace. I also knew that wasn’t normal. And you said that address was a drop location. David left the necklace with me.”

  “He went to negotiate a higher price, and it backfired.”

  “He left the necklace with me.”

  “And checked you out of your room.”

  “He also begged me not to let ‘him,’ whoever he is, have the necklace. Why would he do that if it was a decoy?” My stomach knots. “Unless . . . he didn’t. Neuville either set all of it up or he intercepted David and whoever he was working for.” I press my hands to my face, frustrated with myself. “I have to remember.”