Chapter 21
Rhys
Afew days later, I wait for Ares. And I’m already crawling out of my skin. Trace keeps texting for updates, but I don’t respond. There are too many questions I don’t want to answer.
I left Fallon making adjustments to her holiday plans, since now she’s included me in them. If possible, her whiteboard looks even more chaotic with notes about me, what I need to wear, how long to hold her hand, and something about a haircut.
I wait outside my building, my coat open despite the wind, and the temperature drops when a black Bentley slides to the curb.
Ares Zervas steps out in a tailored gray suit and severe dark shades even though the sun’s hiding behind the November clouds. The man looks like a god carved from marble who shits money.
This all seems surreal when he struts my way, leaving the car door open for someone else to shut it.
I walk toward him before he can get closer to the building. “If I’d had my way, I never would have agreed to this.”
“That is why I called Shane,” he admits to his deceptive tactics.
“I understand why you need to know if she’ll be loyal.” I get up in his face. “But you came to me for the hit because you trusted me. So why aren’t you trusting me to question her and give you the assurances you need?”
“Not after the way I saw you look at her.” He removes his sunglasses. Blue eyes that match his suit lock on me, calm and lethal. “You’re compromised.”
“And you’re not?” My voice pitches. “You made me kill the man married to your assistant.”
His jaw ticks, like he didn’t expect we’d figure that out.
“Check yourself, Quinlan. You have no right to question my motives. You are an executioner. And executioners wear black hoods and cut off heads without a second thought because they don’t care.
I guess I was wrong about you. You’ve gone soft. ”
“I’ve killed men for less of an insult.”
“Consider it a warning. A friendly one. If you want to make it in this life, you need to stay tough.”
I fold my arms. “And by tough, you mean, not touched by love or emotion? Is that how you’ve made it all forty-something years of your life?”
He steps back and tugs on his suit jacket. “Quinlan, I’m here to question a witness. And I’m waiting for you to escort me into your apartment as a courtesy. In two minutes, three guards will leave that black SUV behind my Bentley, incapacitate you, and I will take your woman.”
My fists clench. “I have it handled with her. She saw me commit the murder. It’s up to me to keep her quiet.”
“She was at the scene of a murder tied to my house. That body, if found, will be dissected. I don’t want to insult your cleaners, but the tiniest spec of blood can be found and tested.
Surely you will be implicated, our ties assessed.
A good prosecutor will not expect you to be a snitch, but when they discover her DNA, they will find her. ”
There’s no use in stalling. All those ugly truths burn my stomach. “Just say what you came to say. And then leave. The minute you get rough or inappropriate with her—”
“I don’t need much time to make sure she’s not a problem,” he replies evenly. “If I decide she’s loyal, I’ll walk away.”
“And if she’s not?”
His lips curve into something that could almost pass for regret. “Then I’ll handle it.”
Heat detonates in my chest. “If you touch her, you will need a set of prosthetic hands to sign your blood money checks.”
Ares’s smirk deepens. “Let’s not threaten each other. I’m not here to hurt her. But I need to look her in the eye before I decide she’s safe.”
He struts toward the entrance to my building, and I follow, jaw locked so tight my teeth ache.
We ride the elevator in silence. I can hear my pulse hammering by the time we reach Fallon’s door. Ares doesn’t hesitate or give me the chance to prep her. He knocks once, sharp and commanding.
The door opens, and Fallon’s eyes widen when she sees him. All the color drains from her face. She looks small and fragile in an oversized orange sweater, fun leaf-patterned leggings, and her bare feet curling against the cold floor.
“Ares…” she whispers. “Ares, Ares, Ares.”
I glance past her and see the calendar, a riot of colors, doodles, arrows, and glitter stickers. Holiday events storyboarded like a Hollywood action movie.
I imagine Fallon through Ares’s eyes. Where he’ll see troubled, I see quirky.
Maybe quirky isn’t the right word.
Before I intervened with that bloke who harassed her in the garden, she had casually threatened to take a shovel to his head if he got too close to her. No hesitation. No remorse.
There’s violence buried deep inside her. I admit, I like that. But is she a danger to herself or others? Can she be loyal?
I need someone who won’t freeze when the world starts burning.
I step aside to let Ares into the flat. His presence fills the room like toxic fumes. His gaze sweeps the small space, eyes snagging on her hanging plants, the others along the windowsills, and the ivy draped down from her bookshelf.
Staring at those plants, I personally don’t care if she talks to them or if she hears them talk back.
Wrapping an arm around Fallon’s shoulders and pulling her into my chest, I say, “It’s okay, love. He’s just here to talk.”
Her head shakes, a dull hum vibrating from her throat. “Why?”
“Because this is how it works,” Ares tells her, his voice steady. “You were a witness. You get questioned. It’s standard.”
Ares goes still when he notices the whiteboard. Then he looks at me.
I meet his stare head-on. “She’s harmless.”
God help me, I want to wrap her in my arms and snarl at the world to fuck off. I don’t care if everything outside this flat is a complete fucking delusion for her. She’s the most genuine, decent person I’ve met.
“That depends.” Ares turns to Fallon and waves a hand toward the whiteboard. “You’ve obviously spent a lot of time and energy on this, Miss Nova. What does it all mean?”
Because it looks like she loves to document evidence in excruciating detail. Shite.
If something slips and she mentions I’m an assassin to any of these people at her events, just marrying her won’t be enough. I worry about what else Griffin will ask me to do to her.
Fallon’s fingers twist around my sleeve. “It’s...just how I plan. Writing it all out like this helps me make sense of things. I can’t afford to miss details. Those lead to…spirals.” Her smile doesn’t falter, but she lets go of me and grabs Basil’s pot.
I flinch at the word spirals. Ares is watching her, but his expression hasn’t changed.
“Do you spiral a lot, Fallon?” I ask.
“Not a lot,” she says, biting a fingernail.
Something cracks in my chest. She’s fighting inner battles no one can see. All they see is how she copes.
I’m about to tell Ares to back off when he glances at me again. This time, something shifts in his expression. He nods slowly, the faintest hint of understanding in his eyes.
“The man Rhys killed,” he says quietly, hands in his pockets, “was a terrible man. He was hurting someone I care about.”
Fallon’s head tilts like a puppy’s. “So, what Rhys did helped protect someone you love?”
It’s a stark and simple truth. This was about her.
Lourdes Sinclair.
“Yes.” Ares exhales, gaze focused on Fallon.
“Despite what people think, I have a heart. But I need to make you understand what is at stake. It’s not me you should be afraid of.
The man Rhys eliminated has dangerous allies.
And do not think that the police or the Feds are all good guys.
They have snitches. If you betray us, you might be dealt with by a group of men so—”
“We get it.” I bark and motion for Fallon to sit down on the armchair.
She stares at Ares, trembling slightly. “I would never hurt Rhys,” she says softly. “And if that means I have to be loyal to you, too, then that’s what I’ll do.”
My chest fills with pride. Fallon is innocent and breakable, but she’s also brilliant. She knows exactly what Ares needs to hear.
Something like approval flickers through his eyes. “Good answer.”
I stand in front of her. “Are we done?”
“For now.”
Fallon exhales, and with Basil clutched to her chest, she stands at the window, stroking the other plants. No doubt talking them out of helping her strangle someone.
Ares notices and brushes me aside to get near her. “You have quite the indoor garden going here”.
He’s too fucking close.
“Thank you,” she answers softly, smoothing a leaf between her fingers. “They help keep my mind calm.”
The room tilts for a second, not because of what she said, but because of how naturally she says it.
Ares shifts in his stance. “You need help staying calm in your own apartment?”
She hesitates, and my chest locks. What hasn’t she told me?
“Sometimes…” she murmurs, eyes drifting out the window. “I worry Kosta might show up.”
My jaw tightens, and the air goes dead.
Who in fuck’s sake is Kosta?
Ares grins like he knows I’m about to detonate. “I’ll take my leave. Goodbye, Miss Nova.”
“Goodbye, Ares,” she says calmly.
“I’ll be in touch.” I’m ready to shove him out, but he’s already striding through door.
My fake relationship is deepening. But it’s also a noose around my neck that just tightened.
I shut the door and turn to Fallon to ask who this Kosta arsehole is.