Chapter 45
History repeated itself in Seattle. They went from hotel to hotel, Varen using a series of fake IDs she kept in the back of her wallet.
Nala’s identity changed as well depending on who asked.
Sometimes her name was Natalie. Other times it was Natasha.
Once, she introduced herself to a hotel clerk using the name Natalya.
They were easy to remember and yet so different.
Not like Varen, who was Lucy one minute and Gloria the next.
She used her reserves of cash to rent these rooms, buy them food, and buy them small necessities.
It was not a glamorous life, not even when compared to hotel hopping in Portland.
That had been a warning. This was real. Nala lived under a constant threat of death.
Her hotel could catch on fire. She could be shot or hit by a car crossing the street with Varen right in front of her. What a way to go.
And Varen? Well, all Nala could say was that she was happy Varen had plenty to distract herself with. Otherwise, during downtimes, she was a bundle of negative energy.
The woman was still processing the horrors.
The horrors of what Xan Ravenwood did to her fiancée, and the horrors of almost dying in her car.
Sometimes she opened up to Nala about these terrors, but more often than not she drowned herself in phone calls and researching things on either her or Nala’s phone.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked the second day.
Varen kicked up her heels on the hotel room couch.
If she had a real computer, I would be really shut out.
The only thing keeping Varen from walking into a store and buying one was the fact she didn’t have enough cash and didn’t want to use her card anywhere.
“I hate standing around feeling useless.”
“You’re not useless,” she said. “But if it makes you feel better, you could go through those emails we have and highlight the really important things.”
It was a task best left to some law enforcement grunt, but Varen was right in that it made Nala feel better.
At least I have something to do. As painful as some of the emails were to read, Nala re-read as many as she could, creating a color-coded system from a pack of highlighters Varen bought at the nearby store.
Pink for names. Green for hits. Blue for veiled threats.
She nearly lost her light lunch of a sandwich when she reached the correspondence between Ravenwood and Desirée.
What would Nala have done in that situation?
Well, she wasn’t Desirée, that was for sure.
She would have made very different decisions from Varen’s fiancée.
Then again, Nala knew a different Varen from the one Desirée was destined to marry.
Was she scared? Desirée must have been scared.
Although her words to Ravenwood were calm and collected, there was an underlying panic to them.
She didn’t want Ravenwood to be a part of her life - not after what he had done.
Yet she needed the money. She had decided to raise the baby, and back then there was no way to know how rich Varen was about to be.
I wouldn’t take that poisoned money. Easy for Nala to say. She was used to poverty and making things work on the tightest budget around. Desirée probably wasn’t used to that. She grew up middle class like Varen. She wanted a certain life for her baby, regardless of who the father was.
Nala swallowed the last of her bile as she put those emails to the side. Instead, she went through some recent ones, particularly about Othello and Sparrow. Last Nala had heard, Melanie / Sparrow was still in a coma in a German hospital. Like how Robin was still in a hospital.
“Lucian sent me the Jones’ address,” Varen interrupted her. “They live out in Hillsboro.”
“What’s weird about that?” It was the westernmost suburb, practically in farm country if someone strayed too far from the main streets, but not a strange place for someone to live. If the Joneses wanted extra land, that was the place. “Don’t Starling and Josephine live in Beaverton?”
“That’s all well and good, but the address isn’t exactly high-flying. They live in pure suburbia. Two-bedroom house. Small yard. The house is worth about $500,000, and that’s only because of the bubble. A few years ago when it was bought, it was only about $300,000.”
Only, the rich kid says. “So, what are you saying? That they’re not swimming in dough?”
“Hardly. Either that or they love living the simple life by a millionaire’s standards.”
Nala thought back to their dinner. It felt like months ago. “I thought they were investing in huge properties, though?”
“That’s what I thought too. They’re getting money from somewhere, but it’s not reflected in their home. The nicest thing they own is their car, and it’s five years old.”
“Do you know how ridiculous you sound?”
“Point being… well, I don’t know what the point is. Find anything new in those emails?”
Only an exchange where Desirée condemns Ravenwood to hell. “Not yet. I’m organizing them again. Hey, at least we have them. Who knows what they’ve gone through at your house.”
Varen pursed her lips. “I’m sure the police have been through a time or two by now. They probably know more about you than you do.”
“Maybe they think I’m a Russian spy by now. Or a mail-order bride.”
She exchanged a smile with Varen. “I have very discerning tastes for a woman who…”
“Who yanks girls off staircases and turns them into her unsuspecting subs?”
“I was under the impression you liked it.”
“Oh, I do, Ms. Lake.”
It was the first real flirtation - let alone one laced with promises of kink - between them in days. Maybe a week. Ever since the bodyguards started hanging around the loft, there weren’t many opportunities to even make out, let alone have sex.
I’m dying. Now that the adrenaline rush had faded for the time being, Nala’s hormones took over again, so now all she could think about was getting off and then getting off some more.
There hadn’t been time for that, though. There definitely wasn’t time in Varen’s world. If she longed for Nala like she did for Varen, none of that was happening until…
Nala stopped flipping through the stack of printouts. With a highlighter in hand, she grimaced, her face paling as she read her sister’s name in a “FROM” field.
“Mr. Ravenwood, I cannot thank you enough for the plethora of opportunities you have given me these past few months. Working as a researcher for your company has been an absolute pleasure. I’m sorry the latest trial did not work out as we hoped,
but my resignation from your company has nothing to do with the work itself. I just can’t do the personal anymore.”
Nala knew that she should not keep reading. Yet she did because she was a glutton for punishment.
“I’ve learned a lot from The Aviary. I’ve learned things I didn’t even know about myself.
But I think you and I both know I didn’t go into it with you because it was a calling, or because I thought it would be an exciting adventure.
I went because I wanted to please you. When you asked me to dinner all those months ago, I was the happiest girl in the world.
I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that you’re one of the most eligible bachelors in the country, and you’re a bachelor your whole life for a reason.
It’s because you’re not meant to have one woman for the rest of your life, let alone at a moment.
I know about you and Ms. Hawk. I also know about the woman in New Delhi and the twins in Paris.
None of that ever bothered me. I never had any delusions that I would one day be Mrs. Tasha Ravenwood.
But I still wasn’t happy. You pushed me to do things I wasn’t comfortable with, but I did them because I wanted to hold onto the idea of us being more serious.
Now I realize I was a pretty girl who worked in your chain of command.
I caught your fancy. You had visions of me, and with your power knew you could make all of that a reality with a snap of your fingers.
Don’t worry. I feel plenty stupid. I may be intelligent, but I am very stupid in other realms of the world.
So not only am I resigning from Black Crow Pharmaceuticals, but I am also parting ways with you - personally.
I hope that you can find someone to make you truly happy, Xan.
If that’s multiple people… well, that’s okay too.
I don’t regret my time with you, but I do wish I had caught on to my real needs sooner.”
Nala didn’t bother to read the response from Ravenwood.
She was too busy staring at the paper, digesting her sister’s words.
Probably some of the final words she ever wrote, judging from the timestamp.
Tasha looked that miserable and she still considers it unregrettable?
That didn’t seem right. Like it didn’t seem right that Tasha would willingly go out with him!
Oh, who was Nala kidding? Tasha was a romantic. She dreamed of meeting the perfect guy. Apparently, she didn’t care if that man was over fifty - as long as he had the charm and the funds. Love could be blind, and so was Tasha’s ability to see the danger in front of her.
Why did it have to be Tasha? How was it possible that her smarts brought about her demise?
If she had never been that smart, then she would never have advanced that quickly up the ranks at Black Crow, let alone get a job there.
Sure, some other danger may have come from somewhere else…
but what did it matter? Nala needed to stop thinking about this crap.
Especially since it had the power to make her cry.
While she managed to hold in most of the tears, she still sniffed, causing Varen to look up from her phone. When she asked what was wrong, Nala put the emails aside and stood. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announced. “I need to clear my mind.”
The bathroom was one of the only places she could be alone.
Not that she didn’t want to be around Varen, but sometimes a girl needed privacy, even if they were in mortal danger.
Taking her phone into the bathroom and pretending to have stomach problems or taking showers that lasted a lifetime helped her regroup.
Until that day, Varen respected her requests for privacy.
She would occasionally ask if she was okay, but beyond that, she let her do her thing until she was ready to rejoin wherever they stayed.