19. Tomorrow always comes
NINETEEN
TOMORROW ALWAYS COMES
SHARK
Earlier in the night, Troy stole all the covers, and half an hour ago, in her sleep, she took my pillow and tucked it between her legs. I’m watching her lying next to me, sleeping in the nude since I never got a chance to grab her a T-shirt from my suitcase, which the staff left in the den. It’s where I planned to work from while staying in Alessio’s guest house.
Troy fell asleep shortly after the third round of sex. I kept my nightlight on so I could watch her while she was silent and unaware. There’s something utterly fascinating about watching people while they’re sleeping. Troy in particular.
She’s pretty, to be sure, but until now, I never noticed the flawlessness of her skin. The lack of freckles or blemishes or old scars. Only smooth skin that I run my thumb over, hoping my touch won’t smear dirt on her cheek.
And I don’t mean actual dirt.
I mean the dirt left over from my hands that have done work her government didn’t want to do and for longer than she’s been on this planet. They’re smeared with the blood of hundreds of people, and not all of them bad. Some were simply stupid enough to get caught in the web of their own lies. Others made greedy choices that led them to cross paths with people whose way of doing business they couldn’t handle.
Sometimes, like now, I wish I could wipe my hands clean and, along with them, my memories of my teenage and young adult years. But even if I could get rid of it all, no amount of scrubbing could wash off the dirt left on my body. I’ve tried. I’ve scrubbed myself raw more times than I can count.
The reason I can’t feel clean is because of all the bad shit I keep locked up in my head. Now would be a good time to take my own advice and get ahold of what’s running through my mind. It would be so much easier if I had amnesia.
Hell, I wish Troy would wake up with amnesia. Then she’d have never met me as an assassin and I could’ve hidden that part of my life from her altogether. I could erase her as Alessio and I erased me. She and I could have a fresh start. Free from our pasts.
But life happens. We are where we’re meant to be, and tomorrow always comes.
Troy’ll wake up sore between her legs and maybe even horny for more. She’ll wake up completely oblivious to the fact that I’ll ask her to marry me. And I can only hope she’ll say yes so that I don’t have to drag her to the altar. Which might send me over the edge and after Alessio, who, along with Valerina, must witness our wedding.
Nobody wants Alessio and me coming to blows. What I want is to marry Troy. What I want is for her to have her baby in a place where she’s surrounded by people who care about her.
And I also want vengeance. I want the man who calls himself La Falena, which is Italian for moth, and everyone he surrounds himself with. They will suffer. I intend to get creative with their suffering. It will be their prelude to hell.
Across the courtyard, in the main house, a light flickers on and off. I peck Troy’s cute, perfect nose, slide out of bed, and turn off the lamp. I put on Alessio’s T-shirt and a pair of his gray sweatpants, then leave the room.
The spare key to the blue door is buried under the lavender plant. I dig it out and lock the door from the outside. I pocket the key, feeling like a complete shit for trapping her in the guest house, even if by the time she wakes up, I’ll have already returned and opened the house back up. But I can’t even walk as far as the kitchen without knowing nobody can get to her, even though I personally set up alarms around Alessio’s property.
I don’t know if I’m more afraid she’ll run from me or if I’m afraid someone will take her from me. And that’s how I know I’m starting to obsess over her. But that’s okay. Some of my obsessions are healthier than others, and Troy is a healthy one.
Alessio meets me by the pool, and we start our stretching, preparing for our morning workout. You’d think he’d take advantage of the location of his property and miles of uninterrupted stretches of beach, but he doesn’t. Alessio lives on the top floor of his building in Rome, where he jogs on a treadmill while watching people jog over the ancient cobblestone streets.
He’s a man of structure and rules, and oftentimes, his character makes him difficult to negotiate with. Given that I work best with well-defined rules and have never broken his until I brought Troy, I think he should grant me an exception now. I need more time before I ask Troy to marry me.
As soon as we start the treadmills, and I say, “She’ll say no.”
Alessio slings a white towel over his shoulder. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“You have a fifty-fifty chance.”
“Exactly,” I say, my voice pitched a little higher than I intended.
Alessio glances at me. “Don’t panic. I think she’ll agree.”
“I’m not panicking.” At least I don’t think I am. “You must know how I feel about pressuring a woman into marrying me.”
“It was your idea, not mine. You told me she was your wife.”
“I know what I said.”
Alessio changes the treadmill pace from a brisk walk to a jog. “The rings are arriving in two hours.”
“Rings?” I match his speed.
He spares me a look that tells me he’s annoyed I’m not keeping up with his plan. “You will propose with a ring, won’t you?”
“Yes. Yeah.”
“Well, it’s the day of your wedding, and you don’t have a ring, so I took matters into my own hands.”
I point to my head. “I was working on the plan for the rings. I was going to wake up the jewelry store owners nearest the house and have them open the store.”
“I figured as much, which is why I called our Saudi connections.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Some of the finest jewels come from the Arab world, and they’ll bend over backward to deliver only the best for Alessio. “Thank you. What did Valerina say when you told her Troy and I are getting married?”
“I didn’t tell her.”
“Troy will need a witness.”
“Tatiana will do it.”
“Troy likes your sister.”
“Valerina will protest,” he says. “She can’t know.”
I don’t know how we’ll execute this mission without her knowledge, but Alessio will have to deal with that fallout if it happens. I have enough on my plate. “Where is the wedding?” I ask.
“Rome, since you’re not Catholic and can’t get married at the local church.”
“That’s good, because I don’t think she’s Catholic either.”
“She’s not,” Alessio says. “I checked.”
“We can have a civil marriage,” I propose, even though I know Alessio will reject that. Secretly, I reject it too, but I’m trying not to think about how fucked-up I am for wanting her all to myself for all eternity. (Amen.)
“You get one wife in this life we’ve chosen. Only one, and church vows are hard to break. You’re getting married in a church, my friend.”
We increase our speed again, our pace making it hard to talk, so I wait until we’re jogging briskly again. “Did you sleep?”
“No.”
“Worked on the guy’s name?”
“Mmhm. I might have more than one name for you.”
At the prospect of vengeance, I get an erection. It makes it hard to exercise, but I continue jogging. “How long is the list of names?”
“Shorter than the erection you’re sporting over avenging your wife.”
I chuckle and slow down even more. “Are you almost done with the list?”
“Almost.”
“What’s the holdup?”
“The man who calls himself La Falena or the moth doesn’t want to be found.”
“That’s never stopped you before. Put more people on it.”
Alessio glares. “Short of declaring an emergency, I have mobilized every agent we have. They’re working as fast as possible while also preserving their covers. It’s been a day, and I have seven names, including his point of contact in the US. It’s a woman.”
He is good. The best, actually. “One day. Seven names. That’s great work, boss.”
“Eat me.”
I clear my throat. “This sounds like an organization, not a one-man type of scheme. When Troy spoke about it, I got the impression La Falena brought her in and things spiraled from there.”
“The seven people I’m putting on the list are the staff seen helping him and Fis get her on the yacht.”
“You mean there’s a surveillance video?”
“Niksha put together pieces from various sources.”
Niksha is one of the best operatives in the world. He’ll work for anyone who offers the most money. Usually, it’s Alessio, but sometimes, it’s the US government. We also like their contracts, but oftentimes execute them for free. One never knows when you’ll need CIA intelligence. I’m sure we could use it right now. “I want to get this job done before she has my baby.”
Alessio whips his head around. “Your baby?”
I shrug. “Troy is a package deal.”
Alessio wipes his face with the towel. “If you say the baby is yours, she’s yours. I haven’t told Valerina anything about your future wife. It’ll be up to the two of you what you want to say.”
“I’ll say that baby girl is mine.”
Alessio nods. “You think the baby is a girl?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I have a bet going with Troy. She thinks it’s a boy.”
“It’s a girl,” he says. “I’m in for a hundred euros. Or dollars. Whatever currency you two agreed on.”
What did I say about rich people and their measly hundred dollars? “You’re a prophet now?”
“Troy’s face glows. It means she’s having a girl.”
I slow almost to a stop. “How do you mean her face glows?”
“Your future wife glows. Even when she’s sad, she glows. It’s magnetic, the essence of the word attraction.”
“You think Troy is attractive?”
“Yes, I do.”
“What the hell?” I step off the treadmill, crack my neck, and think about snapping his.
Alessio hops off the treadmill, pinning me with his blue eyes. “Tread carefully. I might start thinking you can’t handle a compliment I gave you about your girl. I might start thinking you think I want to take something you’ve claimed for yourself.”
I grind my teeth. If I open my mouth, I might bite off his cheek, so I stay quiet and content with the happiness the image of biting off his cheek evokes.
Alessio looks down my body and steps back. “You better wear boxers next time we work out.” He throws a towel at my face. “And bring your own towel.”
I wipe the sweat off my forehead and neck. “You know how violent images make me horny.”
“An image of a pregnant woman is the very antidote to violence.”
“Oh, that’s not what I was thinking about. I was thinking about biting off your cheek.”
Alessio walks over to the window and opens it to let in the fresh morning air. “If I said she was ugly, how would that sound to you?”
“Unacceptable,” I tell him. “I see where you’re going with this. You’ve made your point.”
“Good. Now that that’s sorted, you think you can spend the rest of our morning the way you normally do?”
“Which is?”
“In silence.”
“One more question.”
“Shoot.”
“I need a dress,” I say
Alessio smiles. “That’s new.”
I roll my eyes. “A wedding dress for Troy.”
Alessio sighs. “I’m ten steps ahead of you.”
“Sandals too.”
“Boots,” he corrects.
“Boots?”
He nods. “Boots.”