Part 18 (2/2)

”She's safe. Sheridan is waiting on you. Faster is always better.”

But she's wrong. And I believe Jared is right. Six years has bred greed and desperation in Sheridan. ”If I don't show up to that party, Sheridan will try to flush me out rather than risk losing me again. In other words, seventy-two hours from now, my sister could well become a target, and if Liam Stone is involved in this, then he could be the one to pull the proverbial trigger.”

WE FIND OUR way to bed at nearly four in the morning, and I fall asleep with Gia curled at my side, feeling the warmth of her body as a cus.h.i.+on against all things cold and icy in this world. I think I can't sleep. I'm certain I can't, but then somehow I'm in the middle of a nightmare, aware on some level that I'm asleep but unable to escape.

Smoke burns my lungs and I choke, shouting for my sister. ”Lara! Lara!” I wait, the flames licking across the spare bedroom floor, eating away at the carpet and any time I have left. I wait, though, listening for a reply that doesn't come, the heat burning my skin without touching me. Now my fear is s.h.i.+fting toward my parents, still trapped in their room, the sound of the fire trucks still too distant. I grab a tree limb that juts toward the house, using it to haul myself onto the roof and feeling sick as I observe flames consuming the opposite side of the house. They're gone. My parents are gone. But Lara might not be.

I grab the tree again and don't even think about the drop, jumping to the ground, my bones rattling with the impact. That's when I see Lara, flat on the ground, with my neighbor and trusted friend huddled over her. I'm rus.h.i.+ng toward her when a glint of something to my right catches my eye. I stop, searching the line of trees and bushes separating us from another house. I go low and move back to the edge of the house, where the flames have yet to consume it, smoke billowing just above my head. And I wait. The glint comes again and I don't wait for another confirmation. Whoever set that fire is watching.

I gasp and sit up, my heart thundering in my chest, but I am still in that nightmare, replaying the moment I'd found the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who'd set the fire, plowing him with my body and going down on top of him. Remembering the struggle and my hands on his throat. Choking the life out of him, and enjoying it. f.u.c.king loving it.

”Chad,” Gia says softly, and I become aware of her lying next to me, her body pressed to mine, her hand on my chest over my thundering heart, the moon casting a warm glow over us from outside the windows. ”I'm here,” she murmurs. ”You're here, not there.”

I grab her hand and look down at it, so small and feminine, so fragile, and I don't want her to be hurt. Not by Sheridan and not by me. She needs to understand how bad this is, how deeply embedded in h.e.l.l she's become. ”I killed the man who set our house on fire,” I confess, without looking at her. ”I choked him to death and then threw him in the burning house. My only regret is that I didn't throw him in alive.”

She surprises me by climbing onto my lap and cupping my face, and when I look into her eyes I find understanding, not condemnation. ”He would have killed again. He might have come after you and your sister.”

”That wasn't what I was thinking. I just wanted him to die for killing my family.”

”No one knows how they'll respond in the midst of that kind of h.e.l.l. No one can judge until they've lived the same nightmare.”

She presses her lips to mine, a whisper of unspoken acceptance in the touch. I expect that burning need to f.u.c.k away my edginess to overcome me, but it does not. Instead, there is only a calm I do not remember feeling in what seems like a lifetime, a sweet sense of rightness that only she, it seems, can stir. I roll Gia to her side, me on my back again. She settles on my chest, her leg tangled with mine, her hand on my heart.

By the time I'm drifting back to sleep, I decide that she's right. Alone isn't better, but with the smell of smoke still burning in my nose as if I really was in that nightmare, I know that sometimes it's the right thing to be.

MORNING COMES, AND as tempting as it is to visit the house where Amy is living, I resist, aware of the many eyes that will be on her, looking for me. I won't risk being spotted and ruining my chances of getting her out of Manhattan safely. Instead, Gia and I research Liam Stone, looking for connections to Sheridan, or anyone who would want the cylinder. At least where Liam Stone is concerned, I am both relieved and concerned when we find nothing to better aid my decision as to how to handle him and Amy.

Worse, perhaps, is Jared coming up with the same result of ”nothing” as he digs for more on Rollin, who we both worry is a sleeping giant that could come back to bite us in the a.s.s. Why fake his death? Where is he, and what is his role in all this?

By late evening, the three of us are sitting at the gla.s.s-topped kitchen table, eating grilled chicken sandwiches we've ordered from the concierge service, and going over the plan for the next day. By the time bedtime arrives I'm keyed up, eager to see my sister again, even from a distance.

I use Gia to burn off the energy, but I'm starting to realize that what I do with her is not the kind of f.u.c.king I'd do with other women. It's not a blind l.u.s.t I use as an outlet. It is pa.s.sionate, burning-up-the-sheets s.e.x, punched with every piece of emotional baggage I own and actually allow Gia to see. When it's over, we are sated, exhausted, and I am certain I will sleep peacefully, but I do not. I have the nightmare again, the memory ripping at the frayed edges of my mind and doing more damage. This time, though, I somehow manage to wake without disturbing Gia.

For two hours, I stare at the ceiling, thinking through every option I have to end six years of h.e.l.l, until I can no longer stand to circle the problem without answers. I quietly slip away from Gia and enter the bathroom, decorated in the same black and gray as my mind. Bypa.s.sing the oval black tub that tells me the designer was in a really f.u.c.king bad mood when he got to this room, I turn on the shower and step in. Before I can pull the gla.s.s door shut, Gia steps inside, wrapping her arms around me.

She tilts her chin up to look at me. ”You aren't okay, are you?”

In a blink, I have her against the wall, burying myself inside her, trying to drive away my demons. But though it's fast and hard and wild, it's only a small escape, one that doesn't erase the memories of those nightmares, and I know why. I pull out of Gia and stare down at her. ”To answer your question: No, I'm not okay. I'm about two days from telling my sister I'm the reason our parents are dead.”

It's the first time I've said it out loud, and I swear the words linger on my tongue like boiling acid. And suddenly I am angry at Gia for understanding me instead of hating me.

I turn away and reach for the door. ”Chad,” Gia says, confusion etched in her voice.

”We need to get dressed,” I say without turning. ”Dress to blend in with a crowd if you need to.” I step out of the shower and grab a towel, leaving her the way I should have in the first place. Alone.

GIA AND I manage to manipulate our shared personal s.p.a.ce in awkward silence, and by eight thirty, I'm sporting a one-day shadow again and I've dressed in black jeans and a plain black tee. I've just finished strapping on a shoulder holster when Gia exits the bathroom wearing a pair of snug navy jeans and a simple navy long-sleeved blouse, gaping as she watches me insert a handgun in the holster.

”I thought all we were doing today was watching the surveillance feed Jared hacked from the truck you bought yesterday?”

”We are,” I say, disposing of the gun again, ”but you can never be too prepared. That's exactly why I told you to dress to blend in. Wear that long, black, knee-length jacket with the hood we got you. It's cold outside, and it lets you disappear if you need to.”

She hugs herself. ”You're making me very uptight.”

”Good. You need to be. This isn't going to just go away.” I walk to her, towering over her, proving to us both that I can be around her and not touch her. ”The cold, hard fact is that if I convince Sheridan that I don't have the cylinder, you become more valuable. And no matter how guilty I feel about starting this, it doesn't help you for me to pretend that isn't the case.”

”I don't need you to make things pretty for me, Chad. I don't even know where that would come from. And there were three other people on the team, but frankly, if I have to be the bait that we use to take that man down, that's exactly what I'll do.” She pauses, her jaw setting. ”With or without you.”

”Responding to that will not get us out of here on time, so I won't.” I glance at the black Gucci watch that I'd bought to replace the one Sheridan's men had stolen from me. ”We need to move now.”

”I thought Amy's doctor's appointment was at eleven?”

”It is, but this is Manhattan. You don't just get a parking spot, and we want plenty of time to test the cameras.” I begin to turn and she grabs my arm, and d.a.m.n it, my s.e.x clenches in automatic reaction. ”Today is about observing, right?”

”Yes,” I confirm. ”Today we watch. Thursday I get my sister.”

She studies me for several beats, weighing my reply. ”Good,” she finally says. ”Because we still need to talk about how to handle Liam Stone.”

Having no interest in talking about Liam Stone, I tap my watch. ”Grab the jacket and let's go,” I say, dislodging her hand from my arm and leaving the room. Stepping into the living room, I see Jared waiting at the door, his long hair in some sort of funky bun at the back of his head.

”What's with the bright green Fighting Irish T-s.h.i.+rt?” Gia asks before I can, stepping to my side.

”I'm blending in, as instructed,” he replies. ”There's a large Irish community in New York City, and a number of pubs near the coffee shop.”

I don't approve of this strategy, but we're on too tight a clock for me to argue. I herd everyone to the elevator and the valet parking area, where I've had the Ford Explorer I'd purchased yesterday pulled around already. With Jared driving to leave me free to exit quickly if need be, and Gia in the back seat, we drive around for an hour looking for parking. Finally, I bribe someone to give up a curb spot directly across from the coffee shop.

Once we're parked, Jared sets up a laptop on a cradle beneath the radio, the screen split into quarters to show various portions of the medical building and coffee shop. At ten forty-five, Liam Stone's Bentley pulls up to the building, and instinctively my hand goes to my weapon, every muscle in my body tense. Gia's hand goes to my arm, a silent warning to steady myself, and it's unnerving how well she reads me. But then again, my hand on my weapon isn't exactly a sign that I'm feeling relaxed.

The pa.s.senger's-side back door opens and Liam steps out of the vehicle, towering over the hood, but rather than move away and allow Amy's exit, his body encloses the small s.p.a.ce, preventing it. He scans the area around them while the driver's door opens and a man in a suit, sporting a military-style buzz cut, emerges, his demeanor unapproachable and ready for battle.

”Tellar Phelps,” Jared murmurs, watching him discreetly taking in his surroundings. ”They don't seem like men who believe they've negotiated safety. Maybe someone warned them we might show up,” I comment.

It's in that moment that Amy steps out of the Bentley, her long blond hair lifting in the wind over the collar of some sort of trench coat. My hand that was resting on my gun goes to the door.

Still holding my arm, Gia settles a second hand on my shoulder. ”She's safe. That has to be enough right now.”

I inhale a hard-earned breath and force it out, watching as Liam pulls her to him, possessively kissing her hard on the lips, before Tellar offers her his arm. Tension travels up and down my spine and I ball my fist over the door handle. Liam remains unmoving, watching Amy and Tellar until they enter the building. Once she's a.s.sumedly safely inside, he rounds the hood of the car, coming fully into view, his suit and his carriage screaming regal, rich b.a.s.t.a.r.d, a little too like Sheridan for my comfort. Once he's at the driver's door, he opens it, but he doesn't disappear into the car as I expect. Instead, he pauses and scans the area around him again, his eyes running over our car, stopping, and lingering a moment before his attention s.h.i.+fts.

Gia lets out a loud breath. ”Did he see us?” Gia asks. ”He seemed like he knew we were here.”

”No,” Jared insists as Liam slides into the driver's seat, pulling into traffic. ”He'd never leave Amy if he knew we were here.”

”At least now we know he drives himself to the bank,” I observe, running my hands down my legs and relaxing marginally. ”A flat tire at the bank on Thursday would be well timed.”

”So you're going to just steal her away from Liam?” Gia asks, her voice thick with disapproval.

”I'm going to do whatever feels right after I finish making my observations,” I reply.

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