35. Smith
Chapter 35
Smith
S he’s dead.
Calista Juniper Price is dead.
On paper.
I sigh and pace my Manhattan penthouse, waiting… waiting… not for Calista, because she’s with Jones. Learning all about her death, about how her life as she knows it, is over.
It’s been a week and my heart hasn’t stopped aching.
Fuck me, I’m falling apart.
It’s been a week and I went shopping for a fucking wedding gift to send Orion and my kid and came back with other… things. One, in particular.
Probably the ache and the weird shopping shit is lack of constructive things to do, people to kill.
I need an assignment, something good, hard, dangerous. I need to go and get fucking laid.
Only problem with that last one is there’s no one I want.
All my fantasies seem to have become particular. They all sound and feel and smell like Calista .
I know what she was asking in that hospital room, when she asked about her and me.
She wanted to know if we could ever work. Shit, I saw her face after I got shot, before I collapsed. And it was bright with fear and fierce with love. Love she had no idea about.
“The girl’s twenty-four.”
Calling her a girl should make me feel better about the decision to push her away, to pretend I don’t crave her, want her, need her. But it doesn’t. What it does is make me feel old and perverted.
Which, I guess, I am.
She just deserves better. She deserves a life.
With me, even with Jones’s proposal, it’s another prison. New York’s big, but she’d be stuck with me and the Knights.
For her, it isn’t a life.
She’s leaving at the end of next week. Norway, apparently. I’m not sure why, but she chose it. I know because everyone’s falling over their fucking selves to let me know what Calista does and exactly when she does it.
I check my watch. It’s almost time.
Blowing out a breath, I stop, stand in front of the CCTV feed from the street. There she is. Girl of the hour.
She buzzes the intercom, and I let her in. I switch to the elevator feed that’ll take her to my apartment.
Normally I don’t watch people in my elevator, as I’m not that voyeuristic. But this is an unusual event. And each second’s a special kind of agony.
I want it to take forever. I don’t want it at all.
But the elevator dings and swishes open.
“Hey.”
“Smith…” My daughter runs her fingers down the front of her jeans, and she looks about as thrilled by this as I feel. “I… ”
Dakota looks around, then at me. “Jaxson’s waiting downstairs.”
“I’d be disappointed if he wasn’t.”
“Where is she?” Again, she glances around the apartment.
I frown. “Who?”
“Your girlfriend.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
She ignores me and moves past, into the kitchen where she helps herself to some cold water from the fridge.
“Then you’re the idiot I always thought you were. Look.” She stops, her defiant, almost arrogant tone is ruined by the need, the uncertainty on her face, and I’m hit by a rush of love so strong I almost fall.
This is my kid and over twenty years are gone. Wasted. Lost.
“We’re never going to be close,” I say, feeling like this is an echo of other conversations we’ve had. “And I get it if you don’t want me at the wedding, but…”
“You want to come to my wedding?” Her eyes are big, cornflower-blue pools of need, of mistrust, of wishes scattered and broken. And hope. I can see a tiny bit of hope in the depths.
I don’t cross over to her. As much as I want to. “Dakota, I did this to us, and I’d do it again. Because by keeping you at a distance, I kept you safe.”
“Not enough.”
I flinch. “No. And I wish to fuck I could change you being taken, but I can’t.”
“That wasn’t fair,” she whispers. “What was Mom like?”
“Almost as beautiful as you, sweet and kind and funny. We were kids, but she loved you, and I’m betting she would have been the best mom ever to you.”
A small smile breaks out. “Jaxson tells me that things aren’t always as they seem. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re not so bad.”
“You turned out all right.”
Her smile grows a bit. “We’ll never be a conventional dad and daughter. We weren’t close, but maybe we can work on it. Your girlfriend?—”
“Not my girlfriend.”
“—spoke to me the other week. Told me about what you did, your sacrifices. H-how you put me and my safety ahead of a chance to be a real dad.”
Fuck me. I run a hand over my face. “My job’s always been dangerous, Dakota. I did what I needed to make sure people wouldn’t figure out that you’re mine. And if they did… you’d be fine. I’m only sorry I hurt you, but I’d sacrifice the world for you.”
She sucks in a breath and blinks rapidly. “I… please come to the wedding.”
“I’d love to.” A tentative smile comes to me, too.
“But one condition.”
I wait as she crosses to me and puts a hand on my good arm.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Bring Calista.”
Long after she’s gone, Dakota’s words ring through my head.
Bring Calista.
She’ll be here. I could.
But I’m not going to. I don’t need to go… fuck, Dakota’s not going to miss me. I already bought them something outrageously expensive. That should cushion the blow.
I know if I invite Calista, she’ll get the wrong idea. Worse, I will. I don’t get attached, but she’s the exception making the fucking rule. Two seconds with her and I’m ready to throw around heart-shaped words and sentiments and offer to jump in front of all the bullets for her.
Like with my kid, I’d sacrifice everything to give Calista freedom, her safety. Happiness. A chance.
Unlike my kid, if Calista sticks around, I might go and fuck that up.
No, scratch that. I’ll definitely fuck it up.
I walk to the kitchen, grab Dakota’s empty glass, and pour in a healthy shot of scotch. Then I down it, the heat sliding through me, doing nothing to make me feel better.
Better’s the point. She’s better off without me. End of fucking story.
But…
I want her, not just for sex, but her, in my life, and that’s the most selfish thing I’ve ever wanted. I’m not giving in.
Jesus, I can’t. Right?
I almost jump at the buzzer. As I head to the door, I glance around, for whatever my daughter might have left.
But there’s nothing, and… Fuck. It’s not her. It’s Calista.
Her image is a hard punch to my gut.
I’m barely able to stand still as she rides the elevator up. When it opens, she’s even more beautiful than ever. She’s in a short black skirt with black over-the-knee socks, and she’s wearing a black blazer and a tie.
And her hair is back to its techno rainbow over silver and now red.
I want to kiss the living fuck out of her, drop down and go to town on her pretty cunt. I want to just fucking hold her like an idiot.
“You look like some schoolgirl nightmare ninja mafia girl.”
She snaps her fingers. “You got it.” Then she glares. “I’m not leaving until I yell at you. You’re an ass, a pig, a moron. At that fancy hospital, you acted like you didn’t want me.”
Things start to crumble. “Maybe I don’t.”
“And at first I just figured you’d had your fun, but then I started thinking of how you took a bullet for me,” she says, ignoring me. “You could have died.”
“I’m alive.”
“You must have some feelings for me. I shot the fuck out of that guy. And do you know why? Because I love you. I hate that I fell in love with you, but I did, and I went crazy. And you?—”
“Calista.”
“What?”
“You know I took that bullet for you. You wanna know why? Because I couldn’t bear to be in a world without you. I wasn’t going to let him hurt you. My regret is not making him suffer.”
Things like resolve crumble. Hard.
She closes the gap between us and puts her hand on my cheek. “But you made me suffer.”
“I…” Fuck. “I didn’t mean to but come on, you deserve better than me. You deserve a life.”
“I deserve to make that choice. And I—” She shakes her head. “I said what I needed to. I should go.”
She drops her hand and turns, and she crosses to the elevator. She’s almost there when I crack.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Go.”
“Why should I stay?” she whispers.
Why fucking indeed. Because I’m a selfish prick.
“Fuck, I thought I could do this, not be selfish, but… no, I don’t wa nt you to go.”
“Why?” Her gray eyes narrow, like she’s challenging me to say the right thing, the thing she needs to hear.
But I don’t know if I can.
“I’d like you to stay. If you want, you can stay. My group, we need someone with your skills. It’s the only way you can stay here in New York. In the States. Work with us.” I hold my breath. Jesus, I don’t think I can fuck this up any worse than I am right now.
I’ve handled all kinds of intricate, delicate situations.
This should be the easiest thing in the world.
Instead, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
“As soon as we can make sure it’s safe, you can see your brother. Let him know you’re okay. He can be trusted, right?”
She narrows her eyes. “Yes.”
“Good.” I stop, then push out the words dancing on my tongue. “We can be together, because I think you want that, too. What do you say, sweetheart? We can play nasty little sex games, maybe get married.”
She just stares at me, her jaw damn nearly hitting the floor. I know she loves me. She said she does, and she has to know I love her, too.
Because I’ve been fighting it since before I got shot.
I’m going for nonchalance but man, do I suck at it.
“What do you think, Calista?”
Her eyes flash with anger, nostrils flaring.
“Fuck you, Smith.”