Chapter 43 Rae #2
I pull my knees up to my chest. The sweats are soft and familiar, but they can’t quite swaddle away the chill that’s settled into my bones. “I know how it sounds, trust me. But I feel like I’m going crazy, Jill. When he touches me, I just… I can’t think straight. It’s like my brain goes offline.”
“That’s called being horny, babe. It’s not a legal defense.”
“Well, yes, fair. But it’s more than that.” I pick at a loose thread on my pants—old habits die hard. “When he looks at me, I feel like I’m the only person in the entire world. And I know that’s probably just his manipulation tactics at work, but…”
“But it feels real,” Jillian finishes for me.
I nod miserably. “Too real.”
She sighs, long and heavy, and pulls me into a hug. I collapse against her shoulder like a deflating balloon as all the tension and confusion of the past three days finally catches up with me.
“You’re an idiot,” she murmurs into my hair. “You know that, right?”
“Fully aware.”
“And this is probably going to end in disaster.”
“Also aware.”
“And I’m going to have to pick up the pieces when it all goes sideways.”
“I’ll buy you chocolates. Lots of them.”
She pulls back and cups my face in her hands. Her thumbs brush away tears I didn’t realize I’d been crying. “Okay,” she says finally. “I can see I’m not going to talk you out of this.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Oh, I’m furious.” She releases my face and reaches for her wine again. “But I also know you, Rae. Once you’ve decided something, you’re like a dog with a bone. Stubborn to a fault. It’s one of your worst qualities.”
“Thanks, Bean. Really feeling the love.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “Anyway, enough about me and my terrible life choices. What’s going on with you? You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
Something shadowy passes behind Jillian’s eyes before she plasters on a casual shrug. “Oh, you know. The usual. Chasing leads, pissing off powerful people, dodging weirdos.”
The last bit snags my attention. “Weirdos?”
She waves me off, but on some unspoken instinct, her hand goes to her neck.
She tugs her collar up, adjusting it like she's cold. “It’s probably nothing. I’ve just had this feeling lately, like…
someone’s watching me?” She laughs, though it’s a little too brittle to be real.
“I’m sure it’s just paranoia. Sort of comes with the territory in my line of work. ”
My stomach clenches. “Jill, that doesn’t sound like nothing. Do you think it’s related to this story?”
She bobs a shoulder. “Maybe, maybe not.”
“Have you considered backing off a little bit?”
“Absolutely not!” Her jaw sets in that familiar determined line. “I’m close to something big, Rae. I can feel it.” She pauses, then adds in a murmur, “Some stories you can't walk away from. Even when you probably should.”
“But if someone’s following you—”
“Then I’ll be careful.” She fixes me with a pointed look. “Besides, you’re hardly in a position to lecture me about self-preservation. You quit your job yet?”
“No, but—”
“Then I’m not quitting mine.”
We glare at each other for a long moment, two hard-headed women who refuse to take their own advice.
Then Jillian’s mouth twitches, and I feel mine doing the same, and before I know it, we’re both laughing, overwhelmed with the helpless, unhinged giggles that only come when you’re so tired you can’t think straight.
“God, we’re disasters,” I say, reaching for the wine bottle on the coffee table.
“Complete and utter disasters,” she agrees as she holds out her glass for a refill. “But at least we’re disasters together.”
I top us both off and settle back into the couch cushions, tucking my feet under me. The familiar comfort of Jillian’s presence helps me breathe easy for the first time in days. I put on the TV for background noise and we chatter for a while.
Eventually, the conversation winds down. Jillian yawns so wide I can see her molars, and I realize I’m not far behind her. The time zone hopping is doing a number on my sleep cycles.
“Stay over,” I say with a nod toward my bedroom. “It’s late, and I don’t like the idea of you going home alone if someone’s been following you.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but another yawn cuts her off. “Fine. But I’m stealing your good pillow.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
We shuffle through my nighttime routine like we have a hundred times before. When we finally crawl into my bed, Jillian on the left side like always, I feel safe again.
“Hey, Rae?” Her whisper is soft in the darkness.
“Yeah?”
“Just be careful, okay? I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’ll be careful,” I promise.
I’m not sure either of us believes it.
When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. I pat the sheets blindly, still half-asleep, expecting to find Jillian’s familiar warmth. But my hand encounters nothing but rumpled cotton and the indent where her body used to be.
“Jill?” I croak, pushing myself up on one elbow.
I fumble for my phone on the nightstand. The screen tells me it’s 4:53 A.M., which is ungodly early by any reasonable standard, but especially by Jillian’s. That woman would sleep until noon if the world let her.
There’s a text waiting for me.
JILLIAN PIERCE
Had to run. Source finally agreed to meet. Will call later. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. xo Bean
It takes a while for my sleep-addled brain trying to parse whether “source” means something innocuous or something that should make me worried. Given everything she told me last night about being followed, I’m leaning toward worried.
But before I can spiral too far down that particular rabbit hole, I notice the little red notification badge hovering over my email app.
Twenty-four new messages.
That can’t be good.
I tap the icon and scroll through the usual detritus—spam, newsletters I don’t remember subscribing to, a reminder about my overdue library book. But near the top, there’s one that makes me sit up straighter.
From: Kir Lazarev
To: All Employees
Subject: Announcing the Lazarev Global Strategic Innovation Initiative
My thumb hovers over the screen. Whatever this is, I already don’t like it.
I open the email.
Team,
I’m thrilled to announce the launch of LGSII, a new cross-functional initiative designed to identify and develop the next generation of leadership talent within our organization.
This program will bring together a select group of high-potential employees from across departments to work directly with senior leadership on strategic projects.
After careful consideration, the following individuals have been specially selected for the inaugural cohort...
There’s a list of names. I skim it without really reading, because I already know what I’m going to find.
And sure enough, there it is, third from the bottom:
- Rae Everett, Executive Assistant, Office of the Chairman
I read it again, just to make sure I’m not hallucinating. But no, my name is definitely there, black pixels on a white screen, officially pulling me back into Kir Lazarev’s orbit.
This isn’t a coincidence. It can’t be. This is me becoming a chess piece in whatever twisted game the Lazarev men are playing with each other.
I think about Lukas on the plane, ignoring me completely, and I think about Kir in the stairwell, warning me that no one leaves his father, not even him.
And now, this.
Specially selected.
For what, exactly?