Chapter 15
“John?” the psychiatrist greeted me, using the fake name I”d provided.
I stood, buttoning my suit jacket and pulling down my shirtsleeves, then checked my cufflinks, using these few seconds to not only size up the man in the doorway as he did me, but to give myself a moment for the twinge in my side to lessen.
He smiled and extended his hand as I approached, but his eyes were wary as he took in my appearance. I knew the effect I had on people, the way I made them nervous. Like Veda. It didn”t bother me, and it served me well in my profession.
I clasped his hand firmly, meeting his gaze with a guarded stare and wondering if this was a mistake. But I couldn”t live this way anymore, and I was quickly losing control over my own psyche.
As I released his hand, he gestured for me to proceed him inside. Walking into the office, I scanned the room, automatically noting the placement of the furniture and the lack of a second escape route.
”Make yourself at home, John. Wherever you feel comfortable is fine.”
I caught the look he gave his secretary before I instinctively chose the chair that would put my back to the wall, breathing normally through the pain as I sat down. A strategic position, one that allowed me to keep an eye on the entire room. Probably not necessary in this situation, but a habit that was hard to break, especially when I was in an unfamiliar place.
I watched as he retrieved his notebook, pen, and a tape recorder from his desk. The sight of the recorder made me pause, a flicker of unease in my chest. I didn”t like the idea of my words being documented, of there being a record of my being here, fake name or not.
I hoped this guy would live up to the money I was paying him for this appointment and fucking fix me. I”d been made into what I am because it kept Luca alive. It kept me alive. Nothing distracted me. Nothing made me lose my focus.
Until Luna.
I had to let her go, to purge myself of this obsession before it consumed me. Before it destroyed everything I knew. And if this damn psychiatrist couldn”t help me, well...
I would deal with that problem if and when it happened.
”How are you today?” he asked.
”I”m fine. Thank you.”
”Do you mind if I record our session? It”s only for my own use inside of this office. Have you been made aware of the doctor-patient confidentiality clause?” He set the recorder on the table.
”Yes.” His secretary had shown it to me when I”d arrived for the appointment. But also, I was familiar with this particular psychiatrist, knew that he was discreet and professional and could be bought. He”d appeared in court more than once for members of the family. And if I wanted his help, I would have to trust him. To a point, at least.
I leaned back in the chair, crossing my ankle over my knee and lacing my fingers together on my lap. A deceptively casual pose, but one that I knew from previous experiences would help put him at ease.
He pressed the record button. ”So, what brings you in to see me today?”
”I met a woman,” I told him. It was a simple statement, but one that carried a weight I didn”t know how to fully convey.
I watched as the psychiatrist”s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his voice laced with incredulity. ”You met...a woman?”
I could see the wheels turning in his head. He had to be wondering why the man sitting before him would seek his help for something as trivial as a crush. But he didn”t understand. This wasn”t some schoolyard infatuation. This was something far more insidious, something that threatened to unravel everything I was.
”Yes,” I said simply, my voice flat and emotionless.
He cleared his throat and jotted down some notes, but I could tell he was still trying to wrap his head around the situation. ”And where did you meet this girl?”
”She”s a woman, not a girl,” I corrected him, a flicker of annoyance in my tone. ”And actually, I”ve known her for a while now.”
”And this woman is the only reason you came to see me?”
I paused for a moment, considering his question. Was she the only reason? No, not entirely. But she was the catalyst, the one who had forced me to confront the cracks in my armor, the weaknesses I”d never allowed myself to acknowledge. ”Yes,” I said finally.
”Why is that?”
I hesitated again, the words feeling foreign on my tongue. I didn”t normally talk about myself like this, and it wasn”t easy for me to admit weakness, to acknowledge that something was wrong. But if I wanted his help, I would have to be honest. ”Because ever since I met her, it”s fucked me up in the head,” I said bluntly. ”And I want you to tell me how to make it stop so I can go back to the way I was before.”
He leaned forward, his pen hovering over his notepad. ”What do you mean, ”the way you were before?”” he asked. ”Why would you want to do that? People change a little when they fall in love, John. It”s completely normal.”
I sighed with impatience. He didn”t get it. This wasn”t simply love. This was…more.
I glanced down at the Sony voice recorder on the table, watching the word ”rec” flash on the small screen as I tried to think of a way to communicate to him what was at stake without giving away too much.
”You have doctor-patient confidentiality, John,” he reminded me. ”Nothing you say here will ever be shared outside of the two of us. Not even if they put me on the stand.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket and, without thinking, I reached inside my jacket to get it, wincing at the unexpected stab of pain it caused.
The doctor”s eyes followed my movements, widening slightly when the straps of my shoulder holster peeked out.
Silencing the call without looking to see who was trying to get in touch with me, I met his eyes and slid it back into my pocket. ”I”m not normal. And I”m not in love. I locked her in a fucking cage.”
His eyes flew to my face, and I cocked my head. I watched as the gravity of what I”d said sank in, making his eyes widen. It appeared I had his full attention now. He held up one hand, palm out, a gesture of caution. ”Before you say more, I need to make sure you”re clear on the confidentiality agreement. It”s no longer applicable if I believe you”re a danger to yourself or someone else.”
Despite his warning, I could tell he was intrigued. I could see it in the way his eyes flickered over me, in the way he leaned forward slightly in his chair. He wanted to understand, to unravel the mystery of the man who sat before him.
But I wasn”t here to satisfy his curiosity. I was here to regain the control that had always been my lifeline. But if he thought I was going to sit here and let him delve into the darkest parts of my soul, he was going to be disappointed.
”I would never hurt her. That”s the whole fucking problem.” The words came out harsher than I intended.
The psychiatrist”s eyebrows shot up, surprise and something else flickering in his eyes. ”But you want to hurt her?”
I shook my head, frustration mounting. He didn”t understand. ”No. I locked her up to keep him from hurting her.”
”Okay. Okay.” Leaning back in his chair again, he studied me intently. ”Does she have a name?”
His efforts to trip me up were entirely too transparent. ”Jane,” I told him.
”How long have you kept Jane locked up?”
”A few weeks.” Or had it only been days? It seemed like I”d known her forever, and yet not nearly long enough.
”And you haven”t hurt her?”
”No. I told you, I can”t.” The words came out through gritted teeth, my jaw clenched tight.
”Are you planning to let her out?”
I paused, considering the question. I”d left her out of the cell once without me there and she ran off and almost got herself killed. I didn”t want her in my head, but I also couldn”t conceive of a world without her in it. And that was when I knew I already had the answer to his question. ”No,” I told him, shaking my head. ”She”s safer in there.” At least until we found her father. Perhaps longer.
”So, what do you want from me?”
I got to my feet, unable to sit still any longer. Agitation thrummed through my veins, making my skin feel too tight and the material of my expensive clothes too coarse. I ran a hand through my hair as I paced the room, trying to put into words the turmoil that raged inside me.
”I want you to fix me,” I demanded. ”Undo whatever the fuck she did to make me feel all of this shit, like I need to protect her. To make me feel at all.”
He started to say something, then nearly jumped from his chair. ”You”re bleeding!”
As I continued to pace, I glanced down to see the bullet wound was bleeding through the makeshift bandage I”d covered it with. But it barely mattered. My mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Luna to pay much attention to anything else. ”Yes,” I said distractedly.
”Why are you bleeding?”
”Because she shot me.”
He did jump out of his chair then, uncaring when his notepad fell to the floor. ”What are you doing here? Why the hell didn”t you go to the hospital?”
I cocked my head, confused. I”d just told him. And this was much more important than the bullet hole in my side. Besides, I”d deserved it. ”I didn”t want to be late for my appointment.”
He stared at me in disbelief. ”You need to go to the hospital.” He walked to his desk and pressed the intercom. ”Lydia, call an ambulance for Mr...”
Before he could finish, I drew my pistol from its holster and chambered a round, the sound echoing in the small room. I pointed the barrel directly at his face. ”No ambulance.”
He froze, holding up his free hand, like that would stop a bullet, and swallowed hard. ”Lydia, cancel the ambulance.”
”Are you sure?” she asked over the speakerphone. ”Are you okay?”
”Everything”s fine,” he lied, his voice trembling slightly. ”Why don”t you go ahead and take your lunch now?” Then he disconnected the call.
I kept the gun trained on him, my finger resting lightly on the trigger. I was out of patience. ”Can you fix me or not?”
”I”m sorry,” he said after a pause. ”But other than prescribing you something akin to a tranquilizer, there isn”t anything I can do to keep you from caring about someone. It just...happens sometimes. Whether we want it to or not.”
That wasn”t the answer I wanted to hear.
Sweat beaded on his brow. ”Look,” he said. ”How about you lower that weapon, and we can talk about this some more. I can help you work through these feelings you”re having so they don”t seem so overwhelming.”
”I don”t think you understand. If you can”t fix me, I”ll lose everything.” How could I do my job now? Like this?
He spread his hands wide, holding them out in front of him. ”What you”re asking just isn”t possible. I can”t just medicate your feelings away, but if you”ll just let me...”
”No,” I told him. ”We”re done here.”
”You don”t have to do this. I can help you.”
Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled out a silencer and screwed it onto the end of the barrel of my gun, glad I”d remembered to grab it from the glovebox. This was not the way I”d imagined this appointment ending, but it was always good to kill with as little noise as possible whenever you could to avoid attracting attention. ”No, you can”t.”
”I can!”
”Nothing personal, Doc. But this was a mistake. Thank you for patronizing me, but this appointment is over.” The bullet hit him right between the eyes. It was a quick death, and that was good. It would give me plenty of time to get out of the vicinity before he was discovered.
Taking out my cell phone, I called Matteo. ”I”m standing in an office right now. There are cameras in the hallways, elevator and main lobby. I need you to make it so that I was never here.” I gave him the address, and he assured me it would be taken care of immediately. Then I went back to the table and stopped the recorder from recording, slipping it into my inside pocket with my phone.
I left the body where it was. Without camera footage or fingerprints—which I”d been very careful not to leave anywhere in the building—the authorities would have no way to tie me to the scene.
I made my way out of the office building, keeping my head down and my pace measured. I couldn”t afford to draw any attention to myself, not now.
As I stepped out onto the street, the bright sunlight momentarily blinded me. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision as I walked towards my SUV. I slid into the driver”s seat and started the engine.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I glanced at the screen. It was a text from Matteo, confirming that the footage had been taken care of. I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for his efficiency. I thanked him and carefully pulled out into traffic.
I drove around the city for hours, barely noticing when the sun went down and the streetlights came on, my mind consumed with thoughts of Luna. Fucking hell, how I craved her. How had a simple fascination with a beautiful woman twisted itself into this?
My hands tightened on the steering wheel as I fought the urge to turn the car around, to go back to her. If there was any way to get her out of that cell other than the key in my pants pocket, I”d have Enzo release her and send her and her brother far, far away. Yet the thought of letting her go made something dark and possessive rear up inside me, so strong a low growl reverberated through my chest.
Jerking the steering wheel to the side, I pulled off into a restaurant parking lot. Luna belonged to me. Not by her choice or mine, but because of the fucked-up sense of humor of fate.
Was she hungry? Cold?
Did she miss me, despite the things I”d told her?
I closed my eyes and took a breath, and when I opened them, a sense of calm flowed through me.
Turning on my blinker, I pulled back out of the parking lot and headed toward home.