29. Anders
Anders
“ I ’m sorry, sir. It looks like you’ve been checked out. Whoever was paying for the room went in and packed your things. We have them in the back if you could just give me a mome–”
“What the fuck do you mean someone went into my room and packed my things?” I demand.
This is the last thing I expected when my key card wouldn’t work to get into my room. Why the fuck would Mick check me out of the hotel?
I pull out my phone as the brunette concierge sputters, her whole face turning the color of a tomato. “I’m so sorry, I was told that?—”
“I don’t care what you were told. Pretty sure it’s illegal in all fifty states.” My fingers fly over my screen as I type out a message to Mick.
Is there a reason you checked me out of the hotel?
Less than five seconds later, Carmela’s name pops up on the home screen, along with a picture we took with Maya at Harry Potter World when we all had Butterbeer mustaches. “What’s going on, Cara?”
“You need to come to Désirer.” She sounds baffled.
A pinprick of panic makes my heart pause for a beat. She wasn’t supposed to go to the club without me. “What do you mean? I thought we agreed you’d wait?—”
“Another letter was delivered. It was on my desk when Martin and Nikolai were sweeping the place for more evidence. All traces of membership cards being scanned were wiped along with video footage,” she starts rambling.
A male voice says something in the background I can’t decipher. It sounds an awful lot like Mick. Carmela’s response is muffled, and I assume she is holding her hand over the mouthpiece of her phone.
The concierge jumps when I turn my attention back to her. “Keep my stuff in the back for now. I’ll be by to get it later.” I fish out my wallet and flash my badge. “Do not let anyone else touch my things. Do you understand?”
The brunette nods vigorously, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Yes, sir. I understand. Again, I am so sorr?—”
I turn, not giving a shit about her apology. I know I’m being rude, but I’m sick of Mick treating me like I’m dispensable. Like, I’ll just disappear once this is all over.
And how convenient that he just happens to be at Désirer.
“Cara,” I snap, trying to regain her attention as I walk briskly through the hotel lobby.
“Sorry, Mick and I are arguing about whether or not to call Paul. Where are you? How fast can you get here?”
“I’m already on my way. Did you open the letter?” The doors leading outside swing outward, crashing loudly against the building exterior as I push them open with more force than necessary. My mood reflects the storm currently brewing above the New York City skyline. Dark and cloudy, filled with a shit ton of rage I’m about to unleash on the senator.
“Mick got here before I did, and he opened it,” she says in a quieter tone.
Of course he fucking did.
Thoughts begin to form. Desperate attempts to figure out a hundred-thousand-piece puzzle that’s about to be taken away from me for taking too long to solve it.
If Mick went into my room to pack my shit himself, that means he saw every note. Every photo. Every piece of information I linked with red strings and every file I poured through while trying to make connections.
As I hail a cab, my phone vibrates—an incoming message from Mick.
Yes, there is. Your services are no longer needed.
I’m letting you go. You’re safe from ME…
“This is all it says? There was nothing else in the envelope?” I clutch the letter as I ask Mick, but my eyes dart to Martin and Nikolai, who are wearing matching skeptical looks.
“Just the rose,” Carmela answers. She’s still wearing her jeans and shirt from earlier, fresh-faced, with her hair thrown up on top of her head. She’s holding the fresh, bright red bloom, fingering the black ribbon tied just beneath the peduncle. I note that the thorns aren’t present on the stem this time.
“We dusted for prints. The only ones that came back were Mick’s,” Nikolai says tightly .
“Because I touched it when I took it out of the envelope, obviously,” Mick snaps from where he sits at the bar with a nearly empty tumbler and a bottle of Blue Label Johnnie Walker.
“No nursery rhyme, once again,” Martin speculates. “Furthering our suspicion that it is two separate people working together.”
“Though perhaps not working together at all,” Nikolai adds.
I’ve had this worry for weeks now. Too many factors don’t add up, too many inconsistencies. Everything points to two different minds at work—or even one person with multiple personalities.
Or one very desperate man who is on the verge of losing everything.
I narrow my eyes toward Mick again. He looks like he’s had better days. From across the Grand Room, I can see the bags under his eyes and the unkempt manner of his overgrown beard. His suit jacket is slung over the back of his chair, revealing a rumpled dress shirt.
“You look like shit, Mick,” I goad.
I don’t get the reaction I’m looking for. Instead, he huffs a laugh into his drink. “Yeah, well. I resigned and made a statement about divorcing Kate. Both will hit the evening news. And I’m not exactly welcome at home right now.” He turns in his chair and looks at me, green eyes glowing triumphantly. “Good thing I have two of them. ”
I snort at his sheer audacity, but when his eyes slide to Carmela, dread fills my body, pulling it down like a sinking ship. Following his gaze, I see her staring at him, mouth slightly open, surprise flickering across her features. It isn’t an angry type of shock, though. It’s lighter and raw and so goddamn intimate that I have to swallow the bile that rises in the back of my throat.
“You made a statement?” she whispers.
Those four words hit my heart like a sledgehammer, sending a crack down the middle as wide as the Amazon River. It’s like the rest of the room melts away as he rises from his chair, never breaking eye contact with her while he dips his head affirmatively. “That’s right, tiny dancer, I did.”
For a single moment—a fleeting split second that crushes every last part of me—she looks like the happiest woman alive. Then, she shutters her emotions, eyes darting in my direction as she clears her throat. “I’m sure you’ll have a lot on your hands, then. You should probably find somewhere to hide before the press catches wind.”
My lungs burn with the breath I’m holding as she crosses the few feet between us and presses against my side. Mick scowls at me. From my peripheral, I see her turn her face up to my profile as she reaches for my hand. An outsider would think Carmela’s clearly declaring that she’s choosing me. But her palms are sweaty, and there’s a tremor in her limbs she can’t control.
You want him, don’t you, baby girl? The life he always promised you is finally yours for the taking. All that stands in the way now is me.
“Mellie…” Mick’s tone is a warning. A tapered threat in the form of a stupid nickname that she probably secretly loves. We haven’t deep-dived into the beginning of their relationship. It’s obviously painful for her, and I don’t want to fucking hear it—but the last five minutes have done nothing but remind me that I’m just an accidental smear on a much bigger canvas they’ve been painting for years.
They have a daughter together—a history, no matter how sordid it is. Suddenly, I’m glad I didn’t tell her I love her in California. My insecurities seep from my pores, drenching every inch of my flesh to form protective armor around myself.
“We’re going to head home. Have a good night, Mick. Martin, Nikolai, we’ll talk tomorrow,” Carmela announces. Her fingers grip mine as she pulls me from the room. We don’t say a word to each other until we’re secured in her apartment a few blocks away, each of us clutching a glass of red wine like it’s a lifeline.
“It’s too easy, Cara. It doesn’t make sense,” I speak to her back as she peers out the large windows along one wall.
“But what if it’s the real deal?” she asks softly, without turning around. “Am I just supposed to keep living my life in fear? I’m exhausted, Anders.”
“And I wouldn’t be doing my job if I took this at face value. What’s wrong with keeping the club shut down? Lie low for a little while longer? I still haven’t had the chance to question Morroni?—”
“You’ve had nearly two months.”
“Two months where I’ve spent every waking moment with you.” My tone has a hard edge, one she doesn’t deserve, but her pointing out how long it’s been sounds awfully accusatory—a deflection from her guilt—and I’m not in the mood.
Silence fills the room, stretching as the sun dips below the horizon and the city falls under a blanket of dusky blues and purples. “Where do we go from here?” Carmela whispers.
“We didn’t have to come back, Cara.” I set my glass down and cross the room, taking hers to discard on the coffee table before I pull her into my arms. “We can go back to California. Everything was easier there. You and Maya can stay at the house while I investigate further here with no distractions?—”
“Mick will never let me take Maya to California permanently.” She twists in my arms, causing me to break my hold on her. Her brows draw together, and the little divot that pops out when she’s angry appears between the delicate, dark arches. “And I just reconnected with my parents. I’m not leaving them again. How could you ask that?”
“We talked about this. And Mick signed away his rights, he doesn’t get a say in what you do with Maya.”
“Yeah,” she scoffs. “We talked about it in bed when you were balls deep inside me, Anders. You think it matters that he signed away his rights? I think we both know he can take me to court and fight for her if he wanted to. And he’d win—you know he would.” She takes a deep breath before continuing, “In theory, us moving to California is a great idea. But Maya has school, and I don’t want to rip her away from her friends—from everything she’s ever known. And now that Mick?—”
“Now that Mick, what?” I snap. “Now that Mick is available ? Now that Mick no longer has a wife? Now that Mick, what , Carmela?”
She ignores my question. “It’s four years. Maya has four years left of school. Greta and Roe can come live here.”
“They can’t move to New York!” I yell, throwing my hands in the air. “It’s way too crowded.”
“We can all live at the house in Jersey. There’s plenty of room,” she argues.
“In the house that Mick bought you?” Now, it’s my turn to scoff. “To hell with that, Carmela. Besides, Roe can’t take the cold weather. And neither can my mother. Her arthritis is bad enough as it is. ”
“What do you want from me, Anders?”
“I want you to answer me!” I roar, causing her to flinch. “Why are you so quick to believe Mick? Nothing about this is right! Nothing about this situation makes sense! Why would the murderer just decide to stop? It’s all just a little too coincidental that Mick just so happened to find the letter, don’t you think? Why was he even at Désirer? Doesn’t any of it seem suspicious to you?”
“No! It doesn’t! All I care about is that it’s over!” she shouts. I don’t know which she’s referring to—the letters and the murders, Mick and Kate, her waiting for Mick to come to his senses and beg for her forgiveness for the way he’s treated her?
Us.
“Why are you so quick to treat your life like it’s so unimportant? You just eat up whatever Mick fucking feeds you, and then you go back and beg for more. Why, Carmela? No one is taking this fucking seriously! I haven’t even been on my A-game because I’ve been so wrapped up in you! For Christ’s sake, it’s no wonder we haven’t caught this guy yet.” I walk away, running a hand through my hair as all my insecurities come to the forefront.
Flashes of the night Mariana died in my arms play like a movie behind my lids as I close my eyes. The feeling of complete hopelessness as she bled out and there was nothing I could do, all because I got too involved .
It was only ever supposed to be physical between me and Carmela. But now? The thought of losing her sets my blood on fire. The threat of her being taken away sharpens every baser instinct I have to protect what’s mine .
“I don’t want to live my life in constant fear that something is going to happen to me, Anders! Always looking over my shoulder and wondering if someone is watching me. Feeling like I can’t have Maya with me, in case she gets hurt. The letter said I was safe!”
“IT’S A FUCKING LETTER! Who KNOWS where it came from!” I spin back around angrily. “Convenient that it comes at the same time Mick announces his split from his wife. Put the pieces together, Carmela. You’re smarter than this.”
“Don’t you do that. Don’t you belittle me for wanting to believe I’m out of harm’s way! And you know I don’t care about Mick’s announcement. To think he’s the one behind all of this is absurd! He wouldn’t harm a hair on my head, let alone have his own daughter kidnapped!”
“Oh, stop being so fucking na?ve, Cara,” I spit out. “Everything was to scare you so that you’d run right back into his arms so he could protect you!”
“Killing random men is going a little too far, don’t you think?” she sneers. “He wouldn’t stoop that low. I don’t—” she cuts herself off, swallowing a sob as angry tears gather in her eyes. “I don’t mean that much to him to go through all of this. ”
“Or maybe you just want to keep telling yourself that because you don’t want to believe it. Maybe you like the attention.” I spread my arms wide and shake my head. “Tell me, Carmela. Does the thought that he actually just might go to these lengths for you make your knees weak? Isn’t this what you always wanted? His full attention? Maybe you don’t want to let go of the lifestyle he provides you.”
I step into her space, walking her backward until she’s pressed against the window behind her. Our chests heave with fury, hot breaths mingling as we glare at each other. She looks so beautiful, even with tears running down her flushed cheeks, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her. But it’s time to hit her with some hard truths.
“You argued pretty hard about not moving to California,” I whisper, raising my arms to cage her between me and the glass. “Maybe you need to be honest with yourself. I can’t give you what he can. You have everything you’ve ever wanted at your fingertips. Who cares if he threatened your life? Who cares if he employed people to murder innocent men just to scare you? It worked, didn’t it?”
“Is that what you really think?” she spews into the space between us, head craned back as her eyes narrow. “That I’m that materialistic? That I have that much self-deprecation to let Mick play me like that?”
“I saw the way you looked at him when he told you about the announcement. You can finally have your happily ever after, Carmela. And you want to take it, don’t you?”
Cara shoves me back with every ounce of strength she has. “If that’s what you think, then leave!” she cries. “You never thought much of me anyway, did you? This is just your MO, isn’t it?” She gestures between us. “Fuck around with the woman you’re supposed to be protecting. Why don’t you just leave before I actually do get hurt!”
I feel her words with the force of a physical slap. Ice shreds my veins, turning my insides into a cold, unfeeling block of numbness. Shock floods her raven orbs at her own callousness. “Anders?—”
“No,” I cut her off, holding up a hand as she tries to reach for me. I take a moment to collect my thoughts, rolling every harsh response around in my mouth before I drop my hand. I don’t know how I let this happen. How I let myself get blinded by her pretty face and her lively banter.
How did I let myself fall in love with the wrong woman again?
“Despite what you think, Carmela, I’m not a fucking dog who’s gonna let you abuse it before I come crawling back. That’s you with Mick. It ain’t me, baby girl.” I can’t even look at her as I turn to leave.
“Anders, wait!” she pleads, surging forward to grab my arm.
I’m not gentle as I shrug her off, propelling her back a few steps. “I’m done talking to you. There’s nothing more to say. At least not tonight.”
This time, she doesn’t try to stop me as I leave.
And the rising pitch of her sobs doesn’t deter me from walking away like I should have done from the start.