Final Cost (The Winter Trilogy #3)

3. Tamsyn

3

Tamsyn

“This is crazy,” I say, my badly jangled nerves making my voice shaky as I buckle up and we pull away from the curb and merge with a steady flow of traffic. The heavy-duty SUV, complete with blackout windows and, knowing Lucien, bulletproof armor, feels like being safely ensconced in the tallest tower of the castle on the highest hill after that unexpected frenzy.

I’m grateful to be out of it. Really grateful.

“Are you okay, Ms. Scott?” Hank asks, now buckling his own seatbelt in the front passenger seat.

“I’m fine,” I say, and I mean it. “Call me, Tamsyn. I just don’t get why the press was even there. Why would they want to talk to me? I’m nobody.”

He twists at the waist and gives me an incredulous look over his shoulder. The question seems to amuse him. “You’re Lucien Winter’s girlfriend —”

“Not anymore,” I remind him.

“— And a man in his position is always going to attract enormous press attention. If your name gets tied to someone with that kind of fame and wealth?” He trails off, shrugging. “Your life is changed. You’d better start getting used to it.”

I don’t like the sound of that. At all. “Yeah, but how does the press even know anything about me?”

Another shrug. “Probably someone on the staff tipped them off for a few bucks. Most of his employees have been with him and his family for decades and are very loyal. But his staff is so extensive you can’t account for everyone all the time.”

“Yeah, but he has them all sign NDA’s, right?” I say, shocked to discover this kind of treachery.

“The lower ranking folks — the maids and gardeners and probably the kitchen and laundry staff — make a decent living, but they’ll never get rich. They’re happy to line their pockets if they think they can get away with it.”

“I see,” I say, my attention, snapping back to the real issue at hand. “It’s really true then? Ravenna is dead?”

A grim nod. “Yes.”

“What happened to her?”

He shrugs. “No one knows yet. The police are on it.”

This confirmation sinks in with the weight of a couple of bull elephants resting across my shoulders. I hear him saying the words and it’s not that I don’t believe him. I just find it impossible to believe that Ravenna’s malevolent presence has been erased from all our lives, just like that.

But she’s not gone, of course. There’s an investigation casting a shadow over Lucien and Ackerley now. I could almost laugh. It’s so easy to imagine a ghostly Ravenna orchestrating all kinds of chaos from the other side of the veil. Hell, she’s probably lingering around the halls of Ackerley right now, getting ready to rattle chains, smash lamps and knock over tables in the darkest part of the night.

How’s Lucien?

The words are right there, sitting on the tip of my tongue and demanding to be set free.

Is he okay? How is he holding up?

But Lucien is no longer any of my business. That’s the one thing I need to remember here if I want to stay sane. Which I do. So I clear my throat, double check that there’s no one following us and do my best to sound crisp and intelligent as a new thought hits me.

“Hang on,” I say. “Why were you even here outside Mrs. Hooper’s brownstone just now?”

There’s an awkward silence while the two men exchange a swift and uncomfortable look.

“Lucien wanted someone to have eyes on you,” Hank says reluctantly. “In case, ah, anything popped off.”

I frown. Something about that anything doesn’t sound quite right. “Anything ? He knew the paparazzi would show up, you mean?”

“Or any sort of problem,” he says, but he’s way too airy suddenly. I can almost see him waving his fingers at me and telling me there’s nothing to see here the way Obi-Wan Kenobi did to the nosy storm troopers in Star Wars .

“So…How long have you been out there?” A new thought hits me. “Not since I left Ackerley the other day? You haven’t been guarding the brownstone this whole time, have you?”

Hank’s face now remains resolutely facing forward as he clears his throat. I lean sideways to make sure I don’t miss any change in his expression. And, sure enough, bright color rises over his cheeks. He clears his throat again.

“Lucien wants to make sure nothing happens to you. That’s how he is. You didn’t think he’d send you out into the world with Ravenna on the loose without protection, did you? You know him better than that by now.”

I slump back against my seat, stunned, because that’s exactly what I’d just begun to suspect. And here’s further proof — as if I needed any — that I don’t know a damn thing about Lucien Winter.

He told me he didn’t love me. Didn’t want me. Kicked me out.

Then sent people to protect me. Without telling me.

It doesn’t mean anything, I tell myself. Just another of his manipulations. Another patented Lucien Winter mind fuck. Just because he didn’t want Ravenna to have a clear shot at trying to kill me again doesn’t mean that he does give a fuck about me.

And yet…

I remember the night we met when the two of us talked for hours on the plane before I stretched out and went to sleep. I felt as though he might be watching over me. I felt…peaceful. Despite everything that’s happened between us since then, I’ve got to admit that it was a good feeling. I felt safe and protected because Lucien is not the kind of man to let things fall through the cracks. Not on his watch. Not if he can help it.

And I feel grateful and protected now.

“Thanks for the rescue, guys,” I say quietly. “I appreciate it. I’m not sure what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

Hank chuckles. “From what I saw? You did just fine with your no comment . You strike me as the kind of person who does a pretty good job of taking care of herself. But Lucien can do it better.”

I repress a snort with difficulty. Sure, chief . Lucien’s great at protecting me. From outside forces, anyway. But protecting me from the damage that he can cause? I put him firmly in the dismal failure category.

We turn a corner and it dawns on me that I have no idea where we’re going. “If you can just drop me off at the park, that would be great. I was headed for a jog.”

Hank shoots me an are you crazy? look over his shoulder. “No can do. You’re coming with us.”

My jaw drops. My gut lurches. “Say what, now?”

“Lucien wants us to bring you back to Ackerley as soon as you throw a few things in a bag,” Hank says.

This news hits me like a nice blast from a fireman’s hose straight to the face, and I react accordingly by making a choked sound. “Absolutely not. You can just let me out right here. I’ll be fine. Thanks for the help. Gotta go.”

Sighing, the men exchange a weary sidelong glance. Hank sends me a placating look. “I’m just trying to do my job, Tamsyn. I’ve got my orders.”

I hesitate for a beat or two, grappling with a furious jumble of words that I’m dying to let loose. This messy situation is not Hank’s fault. I know that. But I am so sick of the great and powerful Lucien Winter throwing his weight and money around and manipulating my life. I am so sick of being a tiny pawn piece on the massive chessboard of his life. Fuck this. He doesn’t get to kick me out on the curb and then swoop me back into his twisted world a few days later. There’s no way I can risk him looking into my eyes, which are bloodshot and swollen from all the buckets of heartbroken tears I’ve cried on his behalf. No way he gets to see the hollows and dark smudges from lack of sleep.

There’s no way in hell.

“You seem like a nice guy,” I tell Hank, deadly serious as I stare him in the face. “I understand that you’re just doing your job. But I am not returning to Ackerley under any circumstances. So unless you plan to kidnap me, your orders from Lucien fucking Winter sound like a you problem.”

The men both exhale a beleaguered sigh, then quickly cringe when Hank’s phone rings. “Speak of the devil,” Hank mutters, pulling it out and holding it to his ear with all the enthusiasm of a man raising a spitting cobra to his head. “Yeah, boss.”

Hank listens and shifts uncomfortably, his face losing some of its color. “Sorry it took so long to get back to— yeah, we got her. She’s fine. No, she’s fine. The paps jostled her a little, but it’s all good.” Hank listens again. I hear the rough bark of Lucien’s voice over the line but can’t make out his words. “ Lucien . She’s okay. I swear. Not a scratch on her. Yeah, you’re right. We shouldn’t have let the paps get that close.” More listening. “Yeah, I’d prefer if you didn’t fire my ass, but we can talk about that later. We’ve got bigger problems right now. You were right. She says she’s not coming.”

I sit there impotently in the lengthy and fraught silence that follows, my thundering heart threatening to make me pass out. Lucien and I haven’t been this close since he dumped me. In no way, shape or form am I ready for this moment of having only one degree of separation between us. He’s suddenly way too close. Far too powerful with too much might on his side. And I don’t need to hear the exact wording of his eventual angry command from the other side of the phone to know what’s coming next. My dread spikes accordingly.

Hank holds out his phone to me, looking apologetic but resolute. “Lucien wants to talk to you.”

“No,” I say as firmly as I can, but I sound ridiculous to my own ears. Like a cranky toddler refusing to go down for her nap. “It’s not happening.”

Another booming communique issues from the phone. This time I have no difficulty hearing Lucien’s words. Hell, they can probably hear them all up and down Madison Avenue as we roll along.

“Put me on speaker.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Hank hits a button and holds the phone toward me with a sorry, but what can I do? shrug.

I freeze and resist the sudden wild urge to throw myself out of the moving car. Anything to get away from Lucien and whatever he’s got planned for me next.

“I know you can hear me, Ms. Scott,” he says with absolute calm and awful finality. The familiar sound of his deep voice rips open something deep inside me, causing it to bleed anew. I’ve missed him. I hate myself for it, but I have. Every day without him in my life has felt like a thousand years of seething purgatory. “You need to come back to Ackerley.”

I hike up my chin and turn away from the phone, as desperate to put some distance between us as I am to sound like a powerful adult woman rather than some heartbroken waif with no control over her own life and emotions. I’ve got to put some distance between myself and him if I hope to get my life back. “No thanks. I’m safe here.”

Long pause.

Lucien clears his throat. “I don’t think you understand. The paps aren’t going away now that they’ve found you. More of them will come. You’re under siege. Do you really think Mrs. Hooper and her fancy neighbors want you destroying the peace of their quiet Upper East Side street?”

Oh, shit.

My heart sinks because I hadn’t thought of that. Mrs. Hooper is moving soon. She needs to stage the house and get it listed. She doesn’t need commotion right now. “It’ll die down.”

A disapproving rumble from Lucien. “You’re deluded. You’re not used to this kind of thing, but the press will be all over the story for the duration. That’s why you need to come back to Ackerley where I can keep you safe and we can figure out what our press strategy is going to be. And our legal strategy.”

Oh, God.

I’m just a nurse. Just a newly minted and lowly RN. I barely have a big girl credit card. How have I landed myself in this kind of mess? Even so, I can’t go back there. I love him too much. He affects me too profoundly. Even now, my racing heart is headed toward cardiac arrest territory, and he’s not even in the same room as me. Going back there will ruin the little bit of me that’s left. “No, thanks. Last time I was at Ackerley, someone tried to kill me. I feel safer on the mean streets of Manhattan.”

The funniest thing happens then. Lucien laughs. The sound is hard and bitter. Unexpected. But it plucks on some strings inside me that only he can reach. “You’re nothing if not predictable, Ms. Scott,” he says, his laughter fading away. “I knew you would say that. And you probably know that I’m going to say this .”

I hold my breath and wait while dread tiptoes its prickly feet up my nape and across my scalp.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Ms. Scott.” Lucien’s voice is full of silky menace. “If you’re not here by the end of the day, our next interaction will be me landing my helicopter on the roof of Mrs. Hooper’s brownstone and extracting you like a Seal Team Six operative.”

Oh, God. He’d do it, too. Worse, he’d probably bark a command at my rescuers here and seamlessly use their undying loyalty to execute a kidnapping. They’re all ex-military, as I recall. They’ve got the training. Hell, there’s nothing to stop them from doing it now if he snapped his fingers and gave the signal. Guys like this get things done. Guys like this probably have the skill set to take care of Ravenna for him. So what do I think I’m going to do? Fold my arms, stamp my foot and glare hard enough for them to let me go? Hop out of the speeding car, run away and go into hiding for the foreseeable future? Yeah, no. And I don’t want to test the full might of Lucien’s power. Still, I’m not going to just roll over and do what Lucien tells me to do because he told me to do it.

“You’re threatening me now?” I say.

“Absolutely, Ms. Scott. I hope I’m making myself clear about what I’m prepared to do to get you back.” He pauses and clears his throat. Maybe he heard the same funny note in his voice that I just did. “At Ackerley, I mean.”

I’ve had enough. “Listen, Lucien, I don’t know who you think you are, but you?—”

He hangs up on me and my mushrooming outrage, robbing me of the opportunity to get in the last word and tell him to go fuck himself, which is what I’d planned to do.