Chapter 28 Luke
LUKE
The plane touches down in Dallas by midnight. I intended to arrive during the night, so I could get to the office when no one else was there. I haven’t heard from Jackson about the investigation. I only told him I was returning an hour ago.
Kate is asleep next to me. Her golden hair is splayed around her, mouth parted as she drools on her shoulder.
I smile again at the newfound realization that she isn’t a spy, an agent, or a mercenary trying to kill me. She’s a normal girl—in the best way possible.
I lift her up into my arms. She barely stirs. The past few days have felt like an otherworldly experience. The change in the air is clear when I walk out onto the tarmac and see Jackson waiting.
We’re in danger again. It lurks behind every shadow, threatening to get the knife in its mark this time.
He opens the door for me to lay Kate on the backseat. She finally stirs, opening her eyes a fraction. I sit down next to her, supporting her head on my shoulder as Jackson drives.
“I went through Georginne’s office. Nothing.”
“She’s probably smart enough to keep it hidden.”
“So, what’s our next move?”
“I need to stop at the office.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Kate is sitting up, peering out the window as we pass by the lights of the city. She turns back to me, eyebrows pulled together. “Where are we going?”
“I need to check on something at the office. I could take you to my penthouse, but . . .”
She nods, understanding. I don’t want her to be alone, considering what happened the last time.
Jackson takes us to the Bradshaw Enterprises building, idling inside the parking garage.
“Do you need me to come inside?” he asks.
“Just keep your phone on.”
Kate could stay in the car with him and be perfectly safe, but we both seem to ignore that option. She steps out of the SUV, walking in through the side door in the parking garage behind me.
The hall is dark, a lone light illuminating the way. A heavyset security guard is stationed ahead, texting on his phone.
“Hey, just grabbing something.”
He nods in our direction, returning his attention to the device in his hand.
We travel up the elevator, both breathing heavy as we ascend.
I watch her face, wanting her lips on mine.
I step closer, and her breath hitches. When she was attacked, my gut reaction was to snatch her out of harm’s way, hiding out until I could formulate a plan.
We couldn’t stay at the farm in North Carolina forever.
If we’d tried, they’d have found us eventually.
“You should stay with me until we find out who it is.”
Her head bobs in agreement. It’s late. I need to focus.
Fifty-six floors takes a long time. We can get a little distracted before we reach the top.
My hand reaches out to brace against the wall behind her, and I clench my jaw. She’s watching my lips, pulse racing under her jawline. I lean down, the width of a piece of paper separating us.
“I don’t know if we’re in danger here or not.”
She gulps. “I trust you.”
That was all I needed to hear before pressing my lips to hers.
She’s soft and pliable, and I love molding my mouth to the shape of hers.
My tongue reaches in for a brief moment, savoring the taste of the sweet peppermint gum she was chewing on.
She presses up against me, and I’m finding that I live for her reactions.
Her hand is on my chest, gripping my shirt.
We forget where we are, each moment taking us closer to the clouds.
I finally pull back, as the excitement becomes too much, pressing my forehead to hers. “You make it hard for me to focus.”
“I’m sorry,” she breathes.
I turn my face up to read the numbers. We’re around the fiftieth floor, nearly at the top.
“Stick close to me, okay?”
The doors open, leading to the dimly lit office I know so well. I grip Kate’s hand, tugging her along.
“Stay close.” I tell her again, nerves on edge. I release her hand to grip my pistol, pointing it at the floor.
I find my office, leaving the lights off.
“What are we doing here?” she whispers.
“I need to get something.”
I’ve had bugs planted in my office since Kate’s second day, after I thought she had done it to my penthouse.
They’re old school, so they can’t be tracked or detected.
I locate all four, the tiny cameras easily fitting inside my pocket.
I lead her down the long corridor, and we make it to Georginne’s office. I twist the knob, but it’s locked.
“Shit.” I could go downstairs and ask the security guard for the key, but I’m wary of trusting strangers at this point. “Let’s go.”
We make out in the elevator again, and I’m ready to get her home to my penthouse.
We were in North Carolina for three days, so tomorrow is Thursday.
I could obviously give her a few days off, considering she’s been stabbed, but I need to get back to work to observe my employees closely.
She’s not safe without me, so she’ll have to be at her desk.
Once we reach my penthouse, Jackson goes up with us. I grip her hand on the journey up, but we both wish we could be alone.
Jackson and I are both armed and ready to sweep the top floor once the doors open. It takes less than three minutes even though my place is five thousand square feet. This isn’t our first time.
“Clear,” he tells me.
I’ve got my laptop on the kitchen island, and I insert the tiny chip from the first camera. He’s the tech genius, so I slide it over.
“It starts the day after Kate started.”
“That would be the sixteenth,” she tells him.
He fast-forwards through the feed for a few minutes before a dark shape appears at three a.m. that morning.
“There.”
The video goes back to real time. The shadow of a man goes up to my executive chair and slides a knife over the seam of the headrest cushion. He seems to insert something at the base of it before going back over it with a tube of liquid, holding it down.
“So, they’re listening to me. No surprise there—”
“Wait!” Kate shouts.
The man has turned around and is walking back out. Jackson pauses the video, but the image is dark, and his long blonde hair is covering part of his face.
Too thick around the shoulders to be Garrison with a wig.
“What?” I ask.
“I think . . . I think I know him.”
We all squint at the screen.
“Who is it?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I don’t . . . I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Kate, who is he?” I ask again. Is she trying to protect someone?
Her eyes are wide as she looks up at me. “I . . . I think that’s my roommate’s boyfriend.”
I stare at her, unsure of if she’s being serious. The video is blurry and difficult to make out, but if she’s right, there are some major pieces to the puzzle missing here.
“Are you sure?” Jackson asks.
She slowly nods, leaning in closer. “I mean, I could be wrong. I don’t get why he would be in your office at three a.m., but it looks like him.”
“What’s her boyfriend’s name?” Jackson asks, pulling up another program on the computer.
“Nikolai . . . I don’t know his last name. He goes by Nik.”
My blood turns to ice at the Russian name. It immediately puts me on high alert, and I look around the apartment on instinct. The shadows are only a product of the dim lighting coming from the kitchen. Kate watches as Jackson does a search.
“She met him at the same bar that we did—Divine Taste.”
The scene at the bar from the night I met Kate immediately flashes in my mind. Her short pink dress and intoxicating smile are most of what I noticed, but I force myself to laser in on the faces in the background.
Derek was there, being a usual prick, bragging about the new deal he made by screwing a politician’s daughter. His antics give me a headache, but unfortunately, our world intersects with business quite often.
I close my eyes, my memory of the night from before Kate entered unfolding. There was a redhead at the bar, giving me a look, but I wasn’t interested. A man to her left kept complaining that his drink wasn’t strong enough, insisting the bartender remake it.
“The bartender.”
I open my eyes to see Kate nodding.
“Mel went home with him that night.”
So, Nikolai—no doubt a fake name—was planted there to spy on me.
“Did they leave after we did?”
“Yes. I think she had to wait for his shift to end.”
So, he was with her roommate that entire night, presumably. Does this make Georginne innocent? Was Nikolai somehow responsible for Kate becoming my assistant? My head is spinning as I try to determine what Garrison could have to do with all of this.
“Did you talk to him at all?”
She shrugs. “I ordered a drink—no, wait. Mel ordered for me. Something pink and really strong.”
Did he drug her?
Kate didn’t seem drugged, but she certainly was bold in approaching me. I’m not approachable according to Fallon.
“What do you remember about Mel’s conversation with him? Or maybe what you two were talking about that he could’ve overheard?” I ask.
Her face turns pensive as she tries to recall. It was over a month ago, so the details are no doubt unclear.
“I remember her flirting with him. She’d been there before, and she was hoping to see him.
She wanted me to find a guy to . . . help me forget my shitty day.
I’m really not usually like that, but I had been with Stephen for eight years, so .
. . anyway.” She breaks off, looking away. Her cheeks are turning pink.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed, Kate. I don’t typically act that way either.”
Jackson interrupts, “Found him. Thirty-two years old. Real name is Edik Lebedev. Doesn’t have any kind of visa, so his US records are spotty.
He’s registered on several porn sites, and he seems to be working for cash only.
Although the bartender job is probably just a cover to keep an eye on you for Tycos. ”
“Any obvious link to him?”
“Nothing yet, but I’ll find it.”
“The long hair is consistent with who broke into the apartment.”
I turn to Kate, whose eyes have widened again. She stands up.
“Wait . . . if he’s a bad guy and he’s the one who tried to kill me . . . that means, Mel is danger!”
She’s visibly shaking. Her hand reaches up to cover her mouth, tears pooling in her eyes.
“Hey, hey. He would have no reason to hurt her.” I reach out a hand to cup her shoulder. “He clearly used her to get closer to you. Was he ever in the apartment?”
She nods, a tear beginning to trail down her cheek.
“Okay . . . so we need to get rid of all your electronics. He’s hacked them, and he has no doubt heard anything we’ve said near them.”
“Everything is still at Mel’s apartment. I didn’t grab any of it. I was unconscious when you . . . carried me out.”
The realization dawns on me that the attempt on her life truly was because of me.
“Kate, what exactly did I say to you while I was drunk? When we were back at the bungalow?” I reach out to her, caressing the soft skin on the inside of her forearm.
Her blue eyes focus on me. “You said . . . … ‘The Lion was the mole.’ ”
I confided in her about Reid’s death when I was drunk and angry with Garrison.
The failed mission in Dubai was an attempt to kill Tycos, but it went south.
Reid was killed, and the team scattered.
We were all put under investigation when it became apparent that a SEAL had murdered my best friend and betrayed us.
Years of work, trying to take down the Russian mob boss, was thwarted.
The SEAL who put the bullet through Reid’s skull was Garrison.
That was when everything in my life exploded, and the debris has been raining down on me ever since.
I’ve been trying to prove it, but when the FBI and the Russian Mafia are stalking my every move, waiting for me to screw up, it’s not easy.
And now, Kate has a bone-deep stab wound because of it. They went after her because of the information I’d shared about Steelhart. My anger and hatred for Garrison rises up yet again.
It’s time I dealt with him once and for all.