Chapter 13
AURORA
Marisol answers on the second ring this time, which means she’s been expecting my call.
We’ve settled into a rhythm over the last few weeks, with me calling Tuesday and Friday mornings.
She picks up faster each time because she knows I’m alive, calling from the secure line, and she no longer needs to brace for catastrophe before answering.
“How are you?” she asks, sounding concerned.
“I’m good.” I’m sitting on the back porch of the Key Largo house with my feet on the railing and a cup of coffee balanced on my knee. The ocean is calm today, pale green under a flat sky. “I went horseback riding on the beach this week.”
“You went horseback riding on a beach…while hiding from a criminal syndicate?”
I smile. “I know how it sounds.”
She snorts. “It sounds like you’re on vacation with your boyfriend, except the vacation is involuntary and the boyfriend may or may not be in the Russian mafia.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Aurora...” She says my name with an edge of impatience after hearing this correction for three weeks. “You’re living in his house, spending his money, and calling me from his phone. If he’s not your boyfriend, what is he?”
I don’t have a good answer for that. I’ve been trying to find one for weeks, and every label I test feels either too small or too permanent.
Partner implies commitment I haven’t agreed to.
Protector implies passivity I’d never accept.
Lover is accurate but incomplete. Adrian is all of those things and something else underneath them that I haven’t found the word for yet.
“He’s Adrian.” I say it like that explains anything. “He hasn’t tried to isolate me, belittle me, or make me feel foolish for being cautious. He asks direct questions, expects honest answers, and he’s somehow made me feel less guarded instead of more trapped.”
“You’re already talking like someone emotionally invested, mija.”
Yes, I am. That’s the part I keep circling back to during the quiet hours between phone calls, Russian novels, and training at the range.
I’m emotionally invested in a man I watched kill my employer, and the investment doesn’t feel forced or manipulated.
It feels chosen, which makes it harder to argue against because I can’t blame anyone but myself.
“Have you slept with him?”
I hesitate for exactly one second too long.
“I knew it.” Marisol’s voice has no judgment in it, just confirmation. “When?”
I don’t bother evading. “Twice. The first time was at the club before Dominic died. The second time was on the plane to Key Largo.”
She lets out a stifled gasp. “On the plane, with Viktor sitting right there?”
My face flushes as I remember the risk and the thrill of that. “Viktor was pretending to sleep.”
“Pretending? That didn’t bother you.” She exhales. “Okay. I’m not going to lecture you because we’re past that. I’m going to ask you a question, and I need an honest answer.”
I already know what she’s going to ask. “Go ahead.” I sound totally in control, as if the mere thought of what she’s about to ask doesn’t throw my world into chaos.
“Do you love him?”
The ocean is still calm. A pelican dives into the shallows thirty yards from the dock and comes up with a fish. I watch it swallow and take flight again before answering. “I don’t know yet. I want to, and that’s the most terrifying answer I can give you.”
Marisol exhales softly. “Yeah, it is.”
We don’t speak for a moment before she shifts to practical matters.
Eric has tried contacting me more than once through blocked numbers and messages passed through former coworkers.
Grigor has intercepted everything, and either Viktor or Adrian relays the gist to me.
The pattern is always the same. Eric sounds reasonable and professional, and underneath every message is the same demand to let him back in.
“He’s escalating through channels again,” says Marisol.
“He called the real estate office last week pretending to be a client and asked my assistant whether I’d mentioned where you were staying.
My assistant told him nothing, but he got the office address confirmed.
That’s not a big deal though. It’s easily available with an Internet search.
The call felt more like a threat than a fishing expedition. ”
My stomach churns on her behalf. “Did you tell the attorney?”
“I called her within the hour. She sent a cease-and-desist to his precinct.”
I scowl. “He’ll ignore it.”
“Of course he will, but now there’s a paper trail.”
I try to look on the bright side. “Good. That helps.”
“Good?” She laughs without humor. “It’s not good, Aurora. He’s investigating a murder and using it to stalk you. That’s criminal, and the only reason he’s getting away with it is the badge.”
She’s right, and I don’t argue because there’s nothing to argue about. Eric will keep pushing until something stops him, and the only things that will stop him are Adrian’s countermeasures or Eric’s own overreach. I’m betting on both.
That afternoon, Adrian gives me a big hat and a black coat. I stare at them. “What’s this?”
“I’m taking you somewhere, and I don’t want you to be recognized going in or out.”
I frown. “Where?”
His enigmatic smile is annoying. “You’ll have to come if you want to know.”
Curiosity gets the better of me, so I don the ridiculous hat and coat.
We drive for about an hour before stopping outside a venue called Azimuth.
It’s located in a converted warehouse on the waterfront in Marathon.
Adrian has spent most of it on the phone with Viktor coordinating security for the visit but now hangs up.
I’m amused when he reaches into the backseat to grab a fedora. We’re already wearing sunglasses, and as we slip out of the SUV, there’s a surreal awareness of how absurd we look. It’s like we’re playing spy.
I’m also ridiculously happy to get away from the Key Largo estate even under these circumstances. “So, what is this place?” I slide my arm through his as I ask.
“It’s a nightclub I own. I thought you might be interested in seeing how it’s run versus Dominic’s place.”
“Oh.” I’m intrigued. “That explains an afternoon visit.”
He nods. “It’s too risky to bring you in here when the club is open.”
Azimuth is immediately distinct from Echelon. Echelon ran on Dominic’s charm and my management. I know almost immediately this place is handled much differently.
Adrian gives me an overview of Azimuth’s infrastructure as he conducts the tour.
The staff are vetted more carefully. Security communicates through earpieces with constant check-ins, not walkie-talkies and guesswork.
The VIP sections have visible sightlines to the exits, and the private rooms don’t have hidden ventilation panels where someone could install recording equipment without detection.
I notice all of this within the first five minutes. “This is solid.”
Adrian grins at me. “You’re auditing my club.”
“I’m assessing your operation.” I run my hand along the bar surface and check the speed rail organization.
“Your bartenders pre-batch their signature cocktails, which cuts service time by forty percent. Your floor layout gives security coverage of the entire room from two positions instead of three, and your VIP host rotation is staggered so no single host manages a client for more than ninety minutes, which prevents relationship dependencies.”
The club manager, with short blonde hair and a muscular build, who looks like she could run a military operation, stops in the middle of bundling silverware to look up at me. She seems impressed and a bit wary.
Adrian almost smiles. “Reina, this is Aurora. She managed the VIP floor at Echelon for six years.”
Reina looks at me with the evaluating expression of a professional recognizing another one. “You noticed the host rotation in five minutes?”
“I noticed it because it’s smart. Echelon didn’t do it, and it created problems. Clients would request specific hostesses, and the hostesses had no leverage to refuse.”
“That’s exactly why I implemented it.” Reina looks at Adrian. “Where did you find her?”
“She found me.” Adrian’s almost-smile becomes a real one, and the pride in it makes Reina raise one eyebrow and wisely doesn’t comment.
Instead, she says, “I hope she isn’t here to take my job.” Her smile makes it a lighthearted comment, but that explains the air of caution.
Before Adrian can answer, I say, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
That seems to relax her, and she sets aside her tasks to join us.
We spend hours touring the facility. I ask questions about the booking system, the security vetting process, and the vendor management protocol.
Reina answers every question directly and without condescension, and by the end of the tour, she’s asking me questions about how Echelon handled overflow nights and high-security clients.
Adrian watches the exchange, but he looks pleased with himself.
By the time we’re ready to leave, the club is about to open. I frown up at him. “Shouldn’t we get out of here?” I don’t want to be caught on camera or recognized by someone, though I don’t know anyone in the area. Call me paranoid, but I prefer being alive.
“Yes. I hadn’t planned for us to stay so late, but you were having a good time, and I like seeing you happy.”
“Is there a back entrance?”
He hesitates before his smile shifts. “I have a better idea.” Adrian makes a call, exchanges three sentences in Russian, and turns to me. “There’s a private suite attached to the club. One bedroom. We’ll stay overnight and drive back in the morning.”
I look at him. “One bedroom.”
“One bed.” He holds my stare without apology. “I can sleep on the couch.”