REBECCA
The elevator doors slide open. Olivere is ready and waiting.
Well... Mostly ready. He looks like he lost a fight with a freight train.
One eye is swollen nearly shut, turning an impressive shade of purple.
His lower lip is split, one cheek is mottled with bruises, and when he shifts his weight, he favors his left leg just enough that I notice.
I stop dead. "Jesus."
He gives me a polite nod. "Morning, ma'am."
I blink. "What happened to you?"
"Boss."
Just... boss. Like that explains everything. Judging by the state of his face, it probably does. The alley behind the clubhouse slams back into the front of my mind.
"I'm going after him. Also, I need a gun."
"No."
"I'm not asking."
"Boss said—"
"The boss is unconscious in the back of a white cargo van."
"I promised him I'd keep you safe."
I wince. "I'm so sorry."
Although... I'm not. I want to be. I really do. But I'm not. I'll never regret that decision. Not for him. Not for Alessio. Not even knowing it earned Olivere the beating of his life. I'm not sure what that says about me. I'm not sure I want to know.
His good eyebrow furrows. "For what?"
I gesture vaguely at... well, all of him. "This."
He actually looks confused. "I deserved it."
I stare.
"He could've killed me." The words are so matter-of-fact, I almost miss them. "Instead, he beat the living crap out of me."
We start walking toward the elevators. He disobeyed Alessio's direct order to protect me. Alessio beat the living daylight out of him. He could've killed him.
But he didn't.
Why?
Because he didn't want that on my conscience?
Or because he understood that sometimes... orders have to be broken?
The elevator doors slide open. Olivere steps aside, waiting for me to enter first before following.
"I let you out of my sight." He shakes his head. "It won't happen again."
Something about the way he says it sends a chill through me. Not fear. Certainty. I glance sideways at him, notice the limp. "And the limp?"
The corner of his mouth twitches. "I kept getting back up."
I look at him. "You... what?"
"Boss knocked me down." He says it like he's discussing the weather. "I kept getting back up."
"Why?"
"I thought eventually he'd get tired."
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. He looks almost offended.
"He didn't get tired."
"No?"
"No, ma'am."
He exhales through his nose. "Turns out Boss has excellent cardio."
That only makes me laugh harder. "You seem remarkably cheerful about this."
"I am." He sighs dramatically.
"I noticed."
The elevator reaches the lobby. The doors open onto a small army waiting to guard us on the way through the casino floor to the valet parking where two black SUVs are idling. Six men. All wearing discreet earpieces.
I stop again. "Seriously?"
Olivere nods. "Boss's orders."
"It's shopping."
"It's protection."
"I'll survive."
"That," he says as he opens the SUV door for me, "is exactly what Boss intends."
I climb inside, shaking my head. "You know..."
He looks down at me.
"You're all a little insane."
For the first time since I've met him... Olivere smiles.
"We work for Mr. Vitali."
I suppose that does explain a lot. We start the drive to the mall. Curious, I look out the window once we turn into the service entrance behind the large shopping center. I glance out the window. "Where is everybody?"
The parking lot is empty. Not mostly empty. Completely empty. No shoppers. No employees wandering between cars. The place looks like the zombie apocalypse hit Louis Vuitton first.
I frown. "Is the mall... closed? Today?"
Olivere nods solemnly. "Yes, ma'am."
I blink. "For us?"
"Yes, ma'am."
My eyes drift toward the several black SUVs parked at the back entrance. Another four pull in from another side. Men in dark suits step out, discreet earpieces in place. Some head toward the entrances. Others spread out across the parking lot. One disappears onto the roof.
I slowly turn back toward Olivere. "Really?"
He keeps a perfectly straight face. "There was a bomb threat."
"There was..."
"Terrible shame."
I narrow my eyes. "You're lying."
A tiny smile tugs at the corner of his bruised mouth. "Yes, ma'am."
I shake my head. "You people have completely lost your minds."
"So I've been told."
I reach for the door handle. His hand gently catches my wrist. "One moment."
Before I can ask why, he's out of the SUV. He circles around the front, scanning rooftops, windows, reflections in the glass doors. Only then does he open my door. He offers me a hand. Seriously? I take it anyway.
The second my feet hit the pavement, the other six men fall into formation like they've rehearsed it a thousand times. Two in front. Two behind. One on either side.
Olivere stays half a step ahead, subtly positioning himself between me and... well... everything.
I look around. "I'm starting to feel like a diplomat."
He doesn't look at me. "Diplomats don't have this kind of protection."
I stare at him. He's not joking. He's dead serious.
"Boss wants you protected."
We start toward the entrance. The formation moves with us. It's strangely fascinating. Not a wasted movement. Not a single conversation. Just quiet professionals watching every angle.
I sigh. "You guys are going to make me claustrophobic."
"It's for your protection." He glances toward one of the rooftops before continuing. "At least until the Collector is found."
"It's overkill."
I wave vaguely at the small private army surrounding me. "I got Alessio out of that warehouse."
"Dumb luck."
I stop walking. "Excuse me?"
He finally looks at me. "Dumb. Luck."
I point a finger at him. "You know..." I search for words to frame my blood lust right. "I kind of want to punch you too."
A ghost of a smile appears beneath his split lip. "I've heard that before."
"I bet. You have the personality for it."
His smile grows a fraction. "So Boss says."
I snort. "I suddenly feel a lot better."
The glass doors slide open. Inside... the kind of silence I've never heard in a mall before greets us. But every luxury boutique is open. Every fountain is running. Every chandelier sparkles. Even though there is not another shopper in sight.
"This is insane."
"Probably."
"Definitely."
The click of heels echoes through the marble atrium. I follow the sound toward the central fountain. Jenna is perched on the edge with a champagne flute containing sparkling water in one hand, laughing at something Audra just said.
The second she spots me, she lights up. "There she is!"
Both women stand. Hugs happen immediately. Then kisses on both cheeks because, apparently, I've somehow wandered into European high society.
Jenna hooks her arm through mine. "Ready?"
"For what?"
She grins. "To do some damage."
I glance back toward Olivere.
He gives the smallest nod. Like he's just accepted his fate. Poor man. He survived Alessio. I'm not convinced he'll survive the next few hours.
Jenna drags me straight into Hermès. The sales associates are ready and waiting. Smiling. Champagne magically appears in my hand before I've even made it three steps inside.
"This is ridiculous," I mutter.
"It's fabulous," Jenna corrects.
Audra nods in agreement. "It's a little ridiculous."
The manager practically bows. "Mrs. Manetti."
Jenna smiles. "Morning, Pierre."
"We've prepared the private salon."
Naturally they have. I shouldn't even be surprised anymore. Within minutes handbags begin appearing like they're performing some sort of synchronized dance.
"This one!" Audra declares.
Then: "No. This one. No."
Suddenly she gasps. "Oh. My. God..."
She carefully lifts a buttery-soft black leather handbag like she's cradling a newborn. "I've wanted this one forever."
She strokes the leather with downright indecent affection.
"You know..." I glance at Jenna. "I'm starting to think she has a problem."
Jenna laughs. "You have no idea."
"I do not have a problem," Audra protests, offended. "I appreciate fine craftsmanship."
Jenna snorts. "Sure you do."
A mischievous smile spreads across Audra's face. "Gabe noticed me because I got arrested at an illegal knock-off purse party."
I blink. "I'm sorry, what?"
She grins proudly. "Long story."
"A very long story," Jenna agrees.
"And somehow," Audra continues, "I ended up with the actual purse."
I stare at both of them. "I have so many questions."
Jenna slips another handbag into Audra's waiting hands. "You'll have to read the police report."
Audra grins. "Or ask Gabe. He tells it with a lot more swearing."
I shake my head.
"I've only known you two for five minutes, and somehow I'm the normal one."
"Give it time," Jenna says with a wink. "It won't last."
It doesn't take long for Jenna to be infected by Audra's giddiness.
"This one!" she declares. "And this one."
Audra quietly picks up another. "What about this?"
I glance at the tiny leather purse. "It's beautiful."
"It is."
I flip over the price tag. Then immediately put it back down. Wiping on it like I'm trying to get my fingerprints off a murder scene. "No."
Jenna notices. "What?"
"I can't." I think I'm actually hyperventilating. Do people really pay this kind of money for purses?
Not too long ago I would have sold one of my kidneys for that kind of money to get more information on Rachel.
Rachel. That thought still sits a bit bitter in my stomach.
According to Charly, she, her husband, and her daughter are having the time of their lives in Mexico.
He sent pictures I've hardly looked at, because…
they made me mad. Here I was chasing ghosts, working the most vile jobs.
Got threatened more than once. Almost beaten.
Almost killed. All the while she… played house. Happily.
"Why?" Jenna interrupts my dark thoughts.
I point at the tag. "It's over four thousand dollars."
"So?"
"So..."
I stare at her. "It's a purse."
She blinks. "...Yes."
"It holds stuff."
"It does."
"It doesn't hold four thousand dollars’ worth of stuff."
Jenna starts laughing so hard she nearly spills her sparkling water. "Oh, honey."