Chapter 32
“There’s someone looking into you,” my partner, Ethan, says.
“What else is new? Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Yeah, but before it was more or less known enemies.”
“Ethan, I’d appreciate it if you got to the point.”
“For fuck’s sake, your bad mood never improves. I thought being married to my sister would’ve tamed you.”
“It did, but I save my smiles for her. Now stop stalling and tell me what this is about.”
“Nothing we need to worry about. Someone—a woman—in Italy hired a private investigator to dig up everything about you.”
“A woman?”
I stare at him, and I know what he’s thinking. He and I have been best friends for most of our lives; we have a wild past when it comes to no-strings sex with random women around the world. But that ended when I found my Lilly.
“Don’t even put into words what you’re thinking. I would never cheat on your sister.”
“I know that. If I suspected it, we wouldn’t be having a civil conversation. It’s precisely because I know you love Lilly more than yourself that I didn’t even consider this woman might be a lover.”
“Great. Now that we’ve established I’m not a cheater,” I say drily, “how about you tell me the whole story? Because I don’t believe for a second you don’t already know it.”
“Of course I know it. You’re my brother-in-law, but you’re also my best friend. Anyone who gets near our family gets investigated by me.”
I say nothing, since we don’t need words to reaffirm our friendship. I’d die for him, and I know the feeling is mutual.
There was a time, right at the beginning of my thing with Lilly, when we fought. He didn’t want me near his sister and ended up screwing up so badly that it not only caused months of estrangement between them, it almost cost us our friendship.
He and I are proud men, and it wasn’t easy for either of us to back down and wipe the slate clean, but today, years later, the friendship is what it was before.
“I’m going to ask you something, and you’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“I never thought you were normal to begin with.”
It’s the plain truth. He’s my best friend—loyal and honorable—but he’s also capable of killing the men we hunt without losing five minutes of sleep.
“Any chance you have a twin sister?”
My body goes tight. Talking about my childhood isn’t something I want.
It’s all shitty memories in foster homes, the second-to-last one turning me into what I am today.
Yeah, because no matter how much falling in love and marrying Lilly changed me, those people killed a part of me that will never be recovered.
“You know I don’t have any leads on my past. I never even had a way to look into it. Whoever left me at the orphanage door didn’t want to be found.”
“I know, but I’d like you to take a look at something.”
He points to an envelope on the table.
I pick it up and pull out a photograph.
I can’t speak for several seconds.
It’s like looking into a mirror.
The woman in the photo is the female version of me.
Hair color, skin, and the same eyes with that faint yellowish tone.
I drag out a chair and study the photo more closely. Sure, there are doppelg?ngers in the world, but this goes a step beyond.
“Why do you think she’d be my twin and not just a sister?” I ask.
He shrugs. “We don’t know your exact age, right? We could be off either way. But to me, this woman looks to be right in your age bracket.”
“How did you find her?”
“By backtracking the P.I.’s trail. She’s American, but she’s in Italy right now. That’s not what grabbed me, though. Besides the fact that she hired someone to investigate you, her past is a big question mark. As much as yours.”
“No one is untraceable.”
He makes a calming gesture. “I was getting there. I’ll get everything on her, no matter how well she thinks she covered her tracks. But I’ll need a few days. I figured you’d want to keep this,” he says, pointing to a slip of paper on the table. “Just in case you want to contact her.”
I take the sheet.
Elodie Martin.
A sister? No, not a chance. If that were the case, why look for me only now?
“What are you going to do?” he asks.
“I don’t know yet. I need to think.”
That same night
Lilly looks at me, and I can tell she’s holding back from asking something. If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed over the years, though, it’s that my wife still doesn’t have a filter between her brain and her mouth. She doesn’t beat around the bush.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You tell me, Amos. You’re totally distracted. You didn’t even complain when Bruno let the soaking-wet dog sit in your favorite armchair.”
I shrug. “He loves that mutt, so I don’t mind.”
She huffs and stands. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”
“Lillyana. . .”
“Don’t ‘Lillyana’ me in that alpha-male tone. We have a deal: you’re in charge of me in bed, but outside of it, we’re a team,” she says, turning her back on me, looking very pissed and sexy as hell at the same time.
I go after her and cut her off in the hallway because, as always, she’s right.
“Ethan thinks I have a twin,” I say.
To my surprise, instead of looking shocked, she smiles.
“I knew it.”
Then she takes off toward our bedroom. She’s back a minute later with her wallet.
“I bumped into a woman the other day at the mall, and I thought she was your spitting image. Now I’m thinking she must’ve been tailing me. She seemed really nervous. But wait. Something’s off. She looked too young to be your twin.”
“Are you calling me old?” I try to joke because truth is, I’m wired.
Could it be? A sister?
The heart I didn’t even know I had until I met Lilly hammers in my chest as I watch her pull a small scrap of paper from her wallet.
“I wrote her name down to show you and then forgot. Here it is,” she says, handing it to me. “Amber Martin.”
“No. The woman I’m talking about, the one who might be my twin, is named Elodie Martin.”
I go back to the living room and pull the envelope Ethan gave me this morning from my backpack.
I take out the photo, and again, I’m floored by the resemblance.
“Is it her?” I ask.
She takes the picture from my hand and examines it in silence for a few seconds.
She looks from me to the photo, then shakes her head. “The woman who bumped into me is identical to her. Identical to you, too, actually, but it’s not her. She was younger, I’m sure of it. Which means there’s only one conclusion. There are three of you.”