Chapter 17
LARK
My eyes were blurring.
I rubbed them and sat back on the couch, my legs curled under me. I’d spent another day in Bastian’s penthouse. This time, I’d been working.
The coffee table was covered in files and notes. The laptop screen was filled with articles and electronic files. I was poring over Ed’s life, over everything we had on the Red Ribbon Killer. I put out a few discreet feelers to my network of informants.
Who the hell was this guy?
Ed had connected with him somewhere.
That now-familiar sickening feeling, knowing what Ed had done, rolled through my belly. I’d eventually have to find a way to reconcile my savior with the monster he’d kept hidden. But today wasn’t that day.
Tawnee and Jeff popped into my head and I closed my eyes. Guilt felt like a huge rock balanced on my shoulders. That poor couple hadn’t deserved this.
I sighed and rubbed my eyes.
I’d slept tucked up beside Bastian, once again.
I’d half expected him to make a move. A part of me was certainly interested in a replay of what we’d done in the kitchen yesterday.
But all I’d gotten was a lazy kiss before we’d both fallen asleep.
I was shocked about how well I slept with him in the bed. I’d never shared a bed before.
He’d left early to get to his office and deal with what he’d called a mountain of work. It seemed that running a casino kept you busy.
There was a plate of half-eaten pizza resting on the coffee table.
He’d appeared at lunch time with a pizza box from the casino’s Italian restaurant.
It had been delicious, with a crispy, thin Italian-style crust. He’d gotten very bossy about me eating it and staying hydrated.
He’d also bugged me to get up and stretch, occasionally, and to take my painkillers.
It turned out, the man was a bit of a mother hen.
I hadn’t expected it of the ruthless, stylish assassin.
He’d left a few hours ago for a meeting.
I stretched my neck. It was stiff, so I guess he was right about the stretching. I stretched my legs out. I was wearing a pair of my favorite leggings and another one of Bastian’s shirts. I was thinking about stealing it.
The front door opened, and the man in question strode in. Liquid heat pooled in my belly. He was back in a suit. My gaze traced the lines of his muscular body. “Hey.”
His gaze flicked my way and he shrugged out of his jacket. “Did you drink some water?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes.”
“How’s your stab wound?”
“I changed the bandage and took my pills. It’s healing fine.” It wasn’t a lie. I healed fast and the wound wasn’t even bothering me.
“Did you find anything?”
I frowned and folded my arms. “No.” I leaned back on the couch. God, the man had to be aware of the effect he had on me. “Did you make a gazillion dollars in your casino this evening?”
“Likely.” He unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. Then he dropped down beside me. “Want to go over the stuff with me? I’m a good sounding board.”
It was hard to believe that a few days ago, I’d been trying to kill him, and now, I was happy he was home.
I shook off that disturbing thought. “Sure.”
“Let me get us a glass of wine.”
Soon, I was sipping an excellent Australian Shiraz.
Bastian leaned back on the couch, then pulled a long, slim box from his pocket. “I got this for you.”
My eyebrows winged up. “What is it?”
“A gift.”
I froze. I’d never been given a gift before. Well, Ed had given me weapons, but they hadn’t really been gifts.
“Why?”
“Because. I was walking past the casino shops earlier and saw it. It made me think of you.” He made a disgruntled sound. “Don’t make a big deal about it. Open it.”
Swallowing, I flicked the lid of the box open.
It was a bracelet.
It looked almost delicate. It was made of silver and gleaming seed pearls. I’d never owned anything so pretty. It had a circular, silver clasp.
“This made you think of me?”
He turned his head. “Yes. Pearls are said to symbolize the integrity of spirit. The salesperson at the store said they also promote a sense of calm in your emotional life and help soothe emotional wounds.”
My throat was so tight. “No one… I’ve never…” Shit.
He reached over and placed it on my wrist. I held still while he fastened it. As he studied it on my skin, a satisfied smile crossed his lips. Then he reached for his wine again and sipped. “Right, tell me what you found today.”
“Not as much as I’d hoped.” I went over things I thought might be important, every now and then sneaking a glance at the bracelet.
“Whoever this guy is, he knew Ed well. They must have been friends, or knew each other somehow. You don’t just run into a stranger and say, ‘hey, let’s start murdering people,’ right? ”
“There was no one he mentioned.” A groove formed between Bastian’s eyes. “I thought I knew him better than anyone.”
“Same,” I whispered.
He blew out a short breath. “That’s in the past now. We have to focus on this. On stopping this killer.”
I nodded. “I agree. I guess it’s lucky that I didn’t kill you, after all.”
His sensual lips twitched.
“I have some of Ed’s electronic files.” I gestured at my computer, turning my attention back to the task at hand.
“I’ve been going through them. He gave his files crazy names and used codes to encrypt his data.
He shared some of those codes with me. I’ve been unraveling his stuff.
Mostly what I’ve found are notes on some CIA jobs and the contacts he kept all around the world. ”
“There could be something in there.” There was a beep from the entry, and Bastian stiffened. “Shit.”
I raised a brow and swiveled my head.
A group of men entered.
A group of tough-looking, deadly men.
All of whom had been assassins at some stage in their lives.
I knew them all from the notes and photos I kept, even if I’d never officially met any of them.
Rugged, bearded Nash Oakley. Former military, ex-black ops assassin. Code name: Nightvision. He stood with his arms crossed, scowling at me.
Beside him was Cole Black. Wide shoulders, muscular body, a nasty scar on his left cheek that had to have come from the business end of a knife. He was a fighter who cleaned up in Las Vegas’ underground fight scene. He was a former mercenary and freelance hitman known as Darkwolf
Eyeing me with a healthy dose of curiosity was a good-looking African-American man with a neatly trimmed beard. I knew Landon Bradshaw was a doctor, but the hard-packed body said he was something else as well. Or had been. A black-ops assassin unoriginally called the Blade.
The final man made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
The others had all been military or close to it.
Alessio Rossi had been nothing of the sort.
I had a very long file on the former mafia enforcer and assassin who’d carved a bloody swathe through New York City before he’d retired.
He had bronze skin, dark hair, tattoos, and a scarily intense face.
People in the Italian mafia still whispered about Lo Spettro in hushed tones.
“We came to check in,” Nash said.
I snorted. “Don’t worry, I haven’t killed him.”
Nash’s gaze narrowed.
Bastian touched my shoulder and set his glass down on the coffee table. “Sit down. Don’t just all loom there.”
The group of retired assassins all sat or leaned. Cole leaned against the wall, Nash sat in an armchair, Landon pulled up a chair from the dining room table, and Alessio stood by the windows.
“Lark, this is Nash.” Bastian gestured. “Cole, Landon, and Alessio.” He motioned to the others in turn. “Everyone, this is Lark Smith.”
I nodded my head.
“It’s nice to meet you, Lark.” Landon gave me a smile.
Nash didn’t. “We want to know what the hell is going on.”
Bastian lounged against the couch. “Lark and I have… resolved our differences.”
Nash arched a brow, his gaze drifting to the open bottle of wine. “Is that what you’re calling it?”
My nerves tightened. I could tell Bastian’s friend didn’t like me.
“I explained everything about Ed to her,” Bastian said.
I felt all the men looking at me and I glanced toward the windows. I wasn’t ready to share my anger and grief about the situation with them.
“And now we’re working together,” Bastian continued.
Nash frowned. “On what?”
I crossed my legs. “Ed had a partner.”
Silence. The men all traded glances.
“He killed with someone else?” Landon asked.
Bastian nodded. “Ed and his accomplice were known as the Red Ribbon Killer.”
“What the fuck?” Cole muttered.
“I’ve heard of this serial killer,” Alessio murmured. “Brutal killings of innocent families.”
My stomach did a sickening whirl.
“The authorities aren’t aware that there were two killers,” Bastian said. “Ed admitted to me that he had a partner, but refused to reveal his identity.”
Nash leaned forward. “That’s why you’ve had me and the security team pulling intel on the RRK.”
Bastian nodded. “And now, this accomplice has killed in Las Vegas.” He looked at his friends. “And he’s targeting Lark.”
I sat quietly as Bastian ran them through all the details and showed them pictures from the crime scene.
“What can we do to help?” Landon asked.
A weird sensation wormed through me. I realized that it was envy. Bastian’s friends didn’t hesitate to offer him their help.
I’d never had anyone like that in my life.
“Nash and his team are already pulling info,” Bastian said. “Our top priority is to find out who the hell this fucker is and stop him.”
“You have no idea of his identity?” Nash asked.
I shook my head. “I’m trawling through all of Ed’s files. Looking for any clues.”
“Whatever you need,” Landon said. “Just ask.”
“You find this man, and we’ll help you take him down,” Alessio added.
The others all nodded, and I felt that pulse of envy again.
Nash rose. “Well, I guess we’ll leave you to it.” He eyed me and I held his gaze. “I assume Lark is…staying here while you’re working on this.”
“Yes,” Bastian answered.
“Don’t worry, Oakley.” I shot him a smirk. “It won’t be forever.”