21. Nova
CHAPTER 21
NOVA
S weat beading down my skin, I sprint as hard and as fast as I can, coming up over the hillside with my heart feeling as though it might beat right out of my chest. Pausing for a moment, I work to catch my breath then turn back and look at how far I came.
I smile, feeling strength through my exhaustion.
There haven’t been many good days lately. But today—today has been good. Peaceful.
“Gena, my darling. There you are.”
All peace vanishes at the sound of the male voice behind me.
Forcing a smile onto my face, I turn to face Ivan. He’s tied his dark hair back at the nape of his neck and is still wearing the same clothes he was when I left early this morning. White cloth pants and an oversized linen shirt. “Sorry, Ivan, I was out for a run.”
“I see that. Feel better?” He holds out a hand, and I reach out to let him take mine. As it does anytime his fingers brush against mine, a shiver runs up my spine.
“Much. Thanks.”
“Another restless night, I’m sorry for that. I fear our current predicament has given us quite the runaround these days.”
“You could say that.” He tucks my arm through his and together, we walk back toward his sprawling mansion. Set in the middle of 300 acres, it’s a compound surrounded by guards.
Guards that I lead as his head of security. Or so he thinks. “We’ll find the mole,” I tell him. “They can’t hide forever.”
“No, of course not. Not from you.” He stops walking and turns me to face him. The man has made it no secret that he’s attracted to me, but that’s a line I won’t cross. Ever. Not even for this assignment.
The silver cross beneath my shirt is heavy against my skin, a reminder of the darkness I’ve already had to look past in order to get to the greater good of why I’m here.
Sometimes you have to let the monster close. That way, when you strike, he doesn’t see the blow coming. And this man is a monster all the way to his shriveled black heart.
I smile at him then start walking again. “I’ll get showered and start handling the interviews. Anything else I can do for you today?”
“You can start with Patterson.”
Dread coils in my belly, but I force the mask to stay in place. “Why?”
Ivan’s dark eyes grow even darker, turning murderous. “We both know why. Stop pretending you don’t suspect him too.” When I don’t respond, he reaches up and runs a finger over my cheek. “You’re too smart not to see it, my darling.” His finger leaves my skin crawling in its wake. “Start with him. If he’s not the mole, you can let him live. But if he is, I fully expect his body dumped by nightfall. Okay?”
I have to force the bile back down to avoid vomiting all over the cloth shoes he wears everywhere. “Of course. I’ll see to it that it’s done.”
* * *
I shoot up in bed, sweat pouring down my face. After throwing the covers off, I rush out and head down the hall. Elliot’s bedroom door is open, but his room is empty. So I slip into a pair of tennis shoes and head out the front door.
I sprint out into the early morning air, thankful that the sun is already rising over the horizon. Rushing toward the path that would take me to the barn where Elliot spends most of his early mornings, I continue to go over the memory in my head. Over and over again.
I was there in that memory. It was so vivid—I slam into a hard chest, and a man groans as a large hand goes out to steady me. “Easy, you okay?”
“Yeah, sorry, I—” I trail off as my gaze meets Elliot’s. He’s not dressed for ranch work as I thought he’d be, but rather in shorts, a tight sweatshirt, and tennis shoes instead of boots. Echo happily trots alongside him, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. “Wait, are you supposed to be running?”
“Says the girl who took a six-hour road trip to Galveston days after being shot.” When I don’t respond, he smiles softly. “Lani said it was fine as long as I went easy on myself. I did.”
“Uh-huh.”
“That why you’re out here? To yell at me for exercising?”
“Huh? Oh, no!” I grin at him even though the memory was anything but pleasant. “I remembered something. I don’t know what it means, but I remembered something.”
“What did you remember?”
“Can we go back inside? I want to write it down before I forget.” I’m jazzed, energized by the memory. Does this mean the others will soon follow? Does this mean I’m close to unlocking everything?
“Sure. Let’s go.” He gestures toward the house, so I turn and head back inside.
“Want some coffee?” he asks.
“Yes, please.”
“Great. Talk while I make it.”
“Okay. So, I was out for a run—in the memory, not this morning,” I add when he turns to eye my pajamas curiously. “Anyway, I was feeling peaceful and exhausted but in a good way. And then this man showed up.”
He presses a button and turns to fully face me. “Brett?”
I shake my head. “In my dream, his name was Ivan. He was wearing these oversized linen clothes, and he had long hair that was pulled back in a ponytail.”
“Ivan.”
I nod.
He starts toward the table. “Keep talking. What else did you remember?”
“I think I was undercover. He called me Gena and told me that I needed to take care of finding a mole. He told me to start with someone named Patterson. But I think it upset me. I remember feeling a pit in my stomach like it was not good he wanted me to start there.”
Elliot uses his good arm to shuffle through a stack of folders then straightens and studies the folders. “There aren’t any labeled with an Ivan.”
“Maybe it was the one I was working on? They said those files were locked up, right? What if he’s the one who shot me?” Realization dawns. “What if he realized I was the mole? That I was the one informing the police?”
“Easy, Nova,” Elliot says. “Just breathe.”
“I can’t. This is another piece. This means that we’re getting close!” I step into the kitchen and stretch up to grab two mugs then pull them down and fill them with steaming coffee. “Maybe this means everything is going to start coming back.” I turn to offer him a mug then lean back against the counter with mine.
“Maybe.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“What is it?”
“Rough night,” he replies.
“You were supposed to get sleep.”
“I tried. My mind wasn’t cooperating.” He takes a drink of the coffee, and I note dark circles beneath his gorgeous hazel eyes.
“Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Elliot.” I eye him.
“There’s that detective stare,” he says with a laugh. “But I’m not a perp, and this isn’t an interrogation.”
“No, but you’re my friend, and I’m worried about you.”
He takes a deep breath and sets the coffee mug down. Reaching up, he undoes the sling and sets it aside then carefully stretches his injured arm. “Look, I’ve got things in my past that make it hard to sleep sometimes.”
“Renee?”
“Some of it is her.” He doesn’t elaborate though as he leaves the kitchen and heads toward the table that has been serving as our workspace since I brought the files in yesterday.
Because I need to busy myself, I pull out the used coffee grounds and carry them to the trash. When I open it, broken pieces of a mug are sitting on top of the trash. “What happened?”
“I dropped it.”
“Elliot.”
“What?”
“You can talk to me.”
His nostrils flare in anger, eyes hardening. He looks so frustrated, so angry. Is it me? Did I do something? “Look, I—” Someone knocks on the door, cutting him off. He crosses over and pulls it open. “Can I help you?”
“Is Nova here? Your mom said she was.”
Brett. Horrible timing. My stomach plummets.
“Sure, come in. I guess you’re roaming the ranch in the early mornings now.” He holds open the door, and Brett strolls in. He smiles at me, but that smile fades when he notices I’m in my pajamas.
“What’s going on here?” he asks, gaze traveling from me to the table. “Late-night work session? I thought you were staying at the main house.”
“No,” Elliot replies. His demeanor has shifted, and I can tell the last thing he wants is Brett here. “She’s been staying here with me and my sister so I can make sure what happened at the hospital doesn’t happen again.”
Brett looks from me to him then back to me again.
Before someone starts peeing to mark their territory, I clear my throat. “I remembered something last night.”
“You did? That’s great. What is it?” Brett moves into the kitchen and crosses his arms.
“Some man named Ivan. He was asking me to look into something. Does that ring a bell?”
Brett considers then shakes his head. “Not that I can remember. But like I said, you were undercover, and I haven’t been able to get my hands on those files. It’s entirely possible that’s from your last case.”
“That’s what I was thinking too.” I glance over at Elliot, who’s turned his back on us and is studying the Post-its on the wall. Though, if I had to bet, he’s not paying any attention to them.
“Great. I’ll do some digging. Maybe we can uncover the truth so you’ll finally be okay coming home.” Brett reaches out and takes my hand.
“I need to get to work. Feel free to let yourselves out.” Elliot crosses toward the front door, calls Echo, and shuts it behind him.
“Why do I get the feeling I walked in on something?” Brett asks. “Is there something I need to know, Nova?”
“Of course not. Elliot’s just had a rough morning is all.” I try to offer a smile to ease what is clearly jealousy flaring to life. “Come on, I’ll get dressed, and we can grab some breakfast so we can talk more about what I remembered.”