Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Paige
“I have to make a phone call,” I said, pulling out my phone and stepping out of the waiting room.
“What’s up, Paige?” Gabriel answered.
“Parker’s father was shot outside his bar tonight. I’m at the hospital now.”
“Is he okay?”
“According to the doctor, he will be. Elias is responsible for this. I have to find him before any more innocent people get hurt.”
“Let me see what I can find out. I’ll be in touch.”
After ending the call, I turned and practically ran into Simon, who was standing close.
“I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here, but I will find out.”
“Good luck with that, detective,” I said, and began to walk away.
Simon gripped my arm. “This isn’t a game, Paige. Elias Dimitri and his men are very dangerous.”
“You don’t think I already know that?” I spoke through gritted teeth. “That’s why I’m here. He’s after Parker because he thinks Parker’s client told him things.”
“Who do you work for?” he asked, letting go of my arm.
“It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is getting Elias before anyone else gets hurt.”
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“I’m staying at Parker’s to keep him safe from Elias and his thugs.”
“I’ll be over first thing tomorrow morning, and we’re going to talk. I’m on your side. Trust me. We’ve been after Elias and his crew for years.”
“I don’t trust anyone,” I said, raising my brow.
“I’m not just anyone. Ask Parker. I reviewed the camera footage outside the bar.
A man about six feet three, muscular, dressed in all black, and wearing a mask, approached Harrison in the alley as he was walking to his car.
See, I’m sharing information with you, and I expect you to extend me the same courtesy. ” He walked away.
Sighing, I walked back into the waiting room.
“We’re leaving,” Parker said.
“Love is going to stay with our dad, and we’re coming back first thing in the morning,” Roman said.
Parker dropped off Roman first and then pulled into his driveway.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” Julian hugged him. “Paige.” He nodded.
Parker and I stepped into the house. The first thing he did was go over to the bar and pour us a scotch.
“Here. I’m sure you need this.” He handed me the glass. “I know I need the whole fucking bottle.”
“Thanks. Tell me about Detective Simon Kind.”
“He’s an excellent detective and a good friend. All of the Kinds are. You can trust him, Paige. I wouldn’t lie to you.”
“He’s a cop, Parker. There are a lot of dirty cops.”
“He’s not dirty. Never has been. Never will be.”
As I stared into his eyes, I could see the panic and worry about his father. Stepping closer to him, I grabbed his hand.
“Your dad is going to be okay. I will get Elias, and all of this will be over soon.”
“It doesn’t seem like it,” he said, bringing his hand up to my face.
Our eyes stayed locked on each other, and it was as if all time stopped. Leaning in, his lips softly brushed against mine. Our kiss turned passionate, and I didn’t stop him. I needed this as much as he did.
He picked me up and carried me upstairs.
Our clothes came off in a flash as we fell back onto the bed.
He hovered over me, his fingers trailing down my torso as his warm lips pressed against my neck.
I gasped when his fingers dipped inside, exploring me until I orgasmed.
His mouth clamped around each of my breasts before traveling down below.
The pleasure and satisfaction overtook me as another orgasm ripped through me.
Reaching into the drawer of the nightstand, he pulled out a condom and rolled it over his hard cock before slipping inside me.
Moans escaped us simultaneously as he thrust in and out.
Pushing him off me, he rolled onto his back, and I climbed on top, my hips grinding into him while my hands rested on his muscular chest. He threw his head back while pleasurable moans erupted from him.
“God, you are so fucking beautiful.” His hands gripped my hips.
I sped up the pace, rocking back and forth.
“Oh God, I’m going to come,” he moaned, holding my hips down.
I let out a loud moan at the pleasure and collapsed on him. I could feel his heart racing along with mine.
Climbing off him, I rolled over and covered myself with the sheet.
After disposing of the condom, he hooked his arm around me.
I snuggled my body against his. There was something about him I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Maybe it was the way his arm curled around me with just the right amount of pressure.
Not too tight. Not too loose. I never allowed a guy I slept with to hold me, but he was different.
I couldn’t explain it, and I didn’t want to.
“What happened to you?” he asked in a low voice.
“Nothing,” I whispered.
“Come on, Paige. Enough,” he snapped. “You at least owe me something.”
In my mind, I had a sense that I could show him all my broken pieces without fear of judgment. He didn’t trust me, and I needed to give him a reason to. I propped myself up on my elbow and stared at him.
“My name is Paige Winters.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Paige Winters.” The corners of his mouth curved into a sexy smile. “Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?” I asked.
“Where did you grow up?”
“I’m from Virginia.”
“Do your parents still live there?” His finger softly stroked my arm.
“My parents were killed when I was twelve years old in a car accident.”
If I were going to do this, I needed to tell him everything. It’ll be okay, I kept telling myself.
“I’m sorry for your loss. That must have been hard.”
“It wasn’t until I found out the truth,” I said.
“What do you mean?” His brows furrowed.
“After the crash, I woke up in a facility called Hearthstone. The doctors wore white coats and spoke in hushed tones. They told me I was in the car with my grandparents, not my parents, when the crash happened, and that my brain injury made me the perfect candidate.”
“The perfect candidate for what?” he asked.
“For their experiment.” I turned my wrist and showed him the small scar.
“They implanted neural transmitters, rewired my brain receptors, and enhanced my reflexes. They called it cognitive restructuring. The doctors told me they didn’t have a choice, or I would have died.
I had memories of my life before the accident.
Memories that weren’t real and implanted into my brain.
Only I didn’t know that at the time. I believed I was Victoria Pollack, and I lived with my parents, Geneva and Harold Pollack.
But it never felt right. I didn’t feel anything toward them.
Three days a week, a black SUV with tinted windows would pull up to the house to take me to Hearthstone.
The two men in dark suits would escort me down the hallway, lit by fluorescent lights, to a playroom with one-way glass.
It started out by assembling puzzles blindfolded.
I can still hear Dr. Moretti’s voice inside my head.
‘Subject shows remarkable progress.’ Then he’d squeeze my shoulder and tell me that my brain was healing beautifully. ”
“My God, Paige.”
“After a while, they stepped up their training. They’d have me solve impossible puzzles, memorize faces and floor plans, and assemble and disassemble firearms in record time.
‘You’re not like the others, Victoria. What you can do—it’s a gift,’ Dr. Moretti would say.
Then the physical training started once my body was fully healed from the accident.
Various forms of martial arts, every morning starting at four a.m. I’d train until eight o’clock, eat breakfast, and then attend school for six hours at the dining room table with Geneva as my homeschool teacher.
It wasn’t your typical middle school experience.
While other kids were at public school learning mathematics and biology and taking cooking classes, I was studying cartel hierarchies and memorizing the structures of terrorist cells.
Harold and Geneva called it ‘practical education.’ They said the world wasn’t all sunshine and unicorns.
They wanted me to understand and learn the world’s darkest corners.
By the time I was fifteen, I could spot a potential security threat in a crowded room in seconds.
I could tell you who was a threat, which exits to take, and who was hiding weapons under their clothes.
When I turned sixteen, they put all my training to the test.”
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“I was sent to Colombia to take out a well-known cartel that was secretly selling arms to the Russian government.”
“Who sent you?”
“Hearthstone.”
“What and who exactly is Hearthstone?” Parker asked.
“They’re a top-secret high-level black ops security division working outside of the CIA.”
“You’re CIA?” he asked.
“Ex-CIA. As far as they're concerned, they succeeded in killing Victoria Pollack.”
“They think you’re dead?”
“Yeah. And it needs to stay that way until I get every single one of them at the top for what they’ve done.”
“How long have you supposedly been dead?”
“Three years.”
“Why the hell would they want to kill you after what they did to you?” He sat up, his back resting against the headboard.
“Because I found out. Old memories of my life before the accident started to emerge. Flashes, lights, my real parents. Memories I couldn’t make sense of.
For thirteen years, they led me to believe I was Victoria Pollack.
When the memories started resurfacing, I needed answers.
So, I started digging around, carefully.
That’s when I met Gabriel. A few days after his father’s death, he received an envelope with a flash drive.
It was a video of his father saying that, if anything happened to him, Hearthstone would be responsible.
He told him to find me and the others before it was too late.
He also gave him a key to a vault that contained all the secrets of Hearthstone.
We met, and he told me everything, including Hearthstone’s plan to have me killed because they knew my memories were resurfacing. ”
“There are others like you?”
“A few. The last mission Hearthstone sent me on was in Yemen to recover a stolen shipment of chemical agents. They sent me into a refinery rigged with explosives. I was instructed to retrieve the briefcase with the agents and take out the people involved. Only, when I got there, there wasn’t a person in sight.
No guards, nobody. That’s when I knew they had set me up.
I was told to open the briefcase and make sure the agents were in there.
But the thing was, the second I opened that briefcase, the refinery was set to explode.
Gabriel hacked into the refinery’s system, buying me a couple of minutes to get the hell out.
Once I did, he blew up the refinery, letting Hearthstone believe I opened the briefcase, and poof. Victoria Pollack was dead.”
“Jesus Christ, Paige. How did they know you were dead if there was no body?”
“Trust me. You don’t want to know,” I said.
I climbed out of bed, grabbed my wallet from my purse, and pulled out a one-dollar bill.
“Here.” I handed it to Parker.
“What is this for?” His brows furrowed.
“You’re my attorney now and can’t tell anyone, including your family, what I just told you.”