Chapter Eight
I hear the lighter clicking before I see him.
Slowly, I release my breath. He’s here. This mission is happening. Other than a text last week with the location and time, Elias has been silent.
For a moment there, I was afraid he didn’t want to involve me anymore. That he’d take away my chance at atonement.
“For someone who’s supposed to be invisible, you sure make yourself conspicuous,” I say.
The side door closes behind me with a bang, cutting off the icy early March wind and faint drizzle outside.
Looming shadows cloak the dark hangar at Teterboro, the structure empty except for one lonely jet parked inside. My aircraft is in the Fleur hangar on the other side of the airport, and I know my staff is getting it ready for our evening flight to Greece.
Our. Because Olivia will be there for my first mandatory therapy session.
My pulse quickens at the thought of the woman I’m not supposed to be attracted to because she’s my sisters’ best friend. And definitely not now, because she’s the doctor to my patient.
The first time I saw her was a quick glimpse at Steven and Grace’s wedding. She was in a sparkly dress that clung to her perfect curves.
Then there was the smile she directed at Taylor, her close friend, who later introduced her to the rest of the family.
That smile was blinding. Genuine. She radiated joy. It was like walking into a sweets shop and ingesting its entire inventory in one sitting. My fingers twitched. My heart banged against my rib cage. I felt lightheaded and nauseous.
I wanted that smile directed at me.
Then I thought, how could someone seem so happy when I was struggling inside?
A selfish and dark craving slithered in. To snuff out the smile as much as I wanted to see it again. I wondered if she was hiding any shadows like me. If she’d still smile that way if someone dug up her secrets.
It was certifiable. The thought alone terrified me, and I’ve stayed away from her ever since.
But because my willpower is abysmal, I keep thinking about the night at Mystique a month ago. Her guileless eyes, the hint of pain in them, a rousing echo calling to my own.
And that pure, unblemished white dress.
The same dark craving from years ago resurrects—only amplified.
Another dark rumination begins—deviant thoughts of what I’d like to do to her. Or better yet, how I wanted to undo her poised, good-girl exterior.
Unspool. Despoil. Thread by thread.
The clicking stops. Then starts back up again.
“You assume I was trying to make myself invisible,” a familiar raspy voice finally replies.
His words are cryptic, but that’s par for the course for the man who’s known as the dealer of secrets. The fucker talks in riddles too.
Elias Kent steps out from behind the jet, the dreary daylight cloaking his angular face in stark contrast. The weather gods must love him because the bluish lighting somehow highlights the singular long scar spanning one side of his face.
It looks good. Sexy even.
Maybe I should get a scar. That’ll make my outsides match my insides.
“Do I even want to know what you’re thinking?” he asks, cocking one dark eyebrow.
“I’m thinking you look fucking hot with a scar. I need one. The ladies will dig it. Where do you think it should be? On the cheek like yours?”
His lips twitch. Barely, but I see it. See? I can charm even the coldest of criminals.
“But then people might accuse me of copying you, and Rex-a-Million copies no one. Maybe the upper lip like a dashing pirate. But the damn lighting won’t hit it the same way.”
He snaps the lighter shut and rolls his eyes. “You love hearing your own voice, don’t you?”
“No. It gets monotonous hearing the voice equivalent of mind-blowing sex 24/7, but I can’t deprive the world of that, you know? There’s enough bad sex as is.”
Elias rubs his temples and mutters something unintelligible under his breath. Probably like I don’t have time for this shit, or why did I wake up this morning?
Or perhaps I should stab him with a knife, carve him up like a Thanksgiving turkey, and feed his entrails to my enemies.
If only. That’ll end my miserable existence. I shudder in horror or excitement. I can’t tell the difference anymore. I guess my quest to transform myself from the scaredy cat of my younger years to the daredevil I am now has worked too well.
He levels his deep green eyes at me. “I’m fucking regretting this already.”
“Lighten up. Even the mobster needs a break from brooding all day.”
“Are you sure you’re up for this? Because we can’t blow it this time.”
The smile slips off my face, and I straighten, because this is important. This is my chance to redo it.
Oh please, Rex. Nothing will bring them back. There are no re-dos in life.
I clench my hands into fists. “I got this, Elias. I won’t let you or her down.”
Raya’s dying moments barge into my mind—the same images I relive night after night.
Her hand grips mine, but the pressure is softening. Damn it, I’m losing her.
“Stay with me, Raya. Fuck. Stay with me.” I cradle her in my arms. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. They weren’t supposed to find her.
She coughs, and blood seeps out of her bullet wound.
Fuck. So much blood. Just like Mom all those years ago.
I press my handkerchief onto her wound.
It’s useless. She grows paler by the second.
“M-Make sure Ava and Cora are safe,” she rasps, her breaths sawing out of her. “Don’t let him find them. Get them o-out, tell them I’m sorry I can’t b-be with them.”
“Don’t you dare, Raya. You tell them yourself. You’ll see them soon.”
Blood bathes my fingers. Desperation convulses my insides as I press harder. Two hands now.
Raya’s eyes roll backward, and her grip on me slowly loosens. No. It can’t end this way. I can’t have another death on my hands.
She whispers, “P-Promise me. Tell them I l-love them.”
Raw, anguished sobs bellow inside the nondescript motel room.
“No, Raya. Don’t give up on me. You need to see your girls grow up and get married. Kids need their moms. F-Fuck. Don’t—”
“I don’t blame you.” Her lips barely move, but I hear her.
Then she’s gone.
It’s only then when I realize the racking sobs come from me.
I remember the wet metallic smell of damp earth mixed with blood, the sound of raindrops hitting against the small picture window, her faint vanilla perfume.
I failed another mom with kids that day. Just like I failed our mom and my siblings suffered because of it. Logic tells me the two events aren’t related, but it doesn’t feel this way. The guilt presses heavily on my lungs. The what-ifs. The what could bes.
My mind’s a maximum security prison, and I’m serving a life sentence.
Will the guilt ever go away? If I do this, get this other woman to safety, will I be able to breathe again?
Will I finally be free?
With determination pulsing through me, I stride to Elias. “It’ll be different this time. I promise you. I joke and fuck around, but not with this. Never with this.”
The mobster holds my gaze, his sharp eyes assessing. His leather gloves creak when he clenches, then releases his fingers.
Finally, he nods. “I believe you. Against all common sense, I believe you. You know the plan, right?”
“Unlike last time, she’ll travel with me and be Rex Anderson’s newest plaything. I’ll flirt and act like she’s one of my flings.”
Frankly, I was lucky The Association didn’t connect me with Raya last time. We tried to be discreet. I used a fake name and only interacted with her a few times while wearing a disguise.
I continue, “They won’t suspect her at all because they won’t think you’ll hide her in plain sight.
No one will believe Rex-a-Million the playboy will be involved in something so dangerous.
When we get to Monaco, I’ll meet with your person and he’ll shuttle her to a safe house for a fresh start. Simple.”
My pulse quickens as I go over the encrypted details he sent me last week.
I know the woman’s new identity. Bree Williams, thirty-five, a graduate from Vassar, interior designer relocating to Monaco to work with the rich and famous.
Based on what I’ve pieced together, she was a hacker who penetrated The Association’s firewalls.
She’s on the run because of something she’s found, but I don’t know what.
It’s suspicious as fuck and I should think twice before jumping into this mess.
Elias redacted much of the information, but I’m not surprised.
There’s a reason he’s dangerous and feared by the mafia, the Bratva, and other criminal organizations alike.
It isn’t because he’s bloodthirsty or gory, but because he has something on everyone and no one knows when he’ll use their secrets against them.
I don’t know what beef he has with The Association or why he’s repeatedly tried to thwart them.
It doesn’t matter.
I think about the unspeakable assault they did to Taylor when she was sixteen in a member-initiation ceremony where people commit an atrocious crime to join their ranks.
Then, there was Alexis’s coma for eight years, which wasn’t from an accident at all, and Ethan nearly drowning in the Hudson last year.
All because they want our family to join them, to be part of their greed and power to take over the world.
The Association wants the Andersons to be involved with them? Well, they fucking got their wish.
Elias nods. “Good. I’ll be on the cruise at some point. That won’t be unusual since I usually man the personnel on the Rose floors anyway. Act normal and it should be smooth sailing.”
“A pun. You realized you just made a cruise pun?”
He ignores me. “Any questions before I bring her out so you can chat before the flight?”
At my silence, he turns and walks toward a nondescript door tucked in the back.
“What’s in it for you, Elias? What do you have against The Association?” I holler after him.
Curiosity killed the cat, and apparently, I have a death wish.
I know my reasons for risking my life.
But Elias? I’d think he’d want to join The Association, not go after them.
It makes no sense.
Elias stops, the next words coming out in a barely there whisper.
“Well, we all have our skeletons, don’t we?”