“I’ll be here when you get back,” I say.
He doesn’t immediately respond, and the wall I placed between us is still there, still dividing us. “What you said to Carlo—”
“I meant every word.”
Again he is silent, studying me. “There are many things I want to say to you right now.” There is a low, rough quality to his voice. “But I can’t right now, before I—”
“I know, Hawk,” I say. “Go. Lead. Take care of business.”
“I’m leaving Matteo and Sasha here with you, and I have men on the exterior keeping watch. You know you’re safe here, right?”
I think of the hacker that out-hacked Matteo and wonder how true that really is, but that’s not what he needs to hear now. I have guns. I have suspicions. I have guards. So I say, “Yes, I do. I’ll be here when you get back.”
He hesitates a few beats, then turns and is gone. I stare after him, already wishing he were back.
Every answered question in my life seems to lead to another, but the ones I hate the most are the ones I created in Kayden and me and us. But I’m going to make them go away. Tonight.
ten
I have no idea how long I stand in the War Room replaying Kayden’s proposal, but it must be a while, because Sasha appears in the doorway, a concerned look on her face. “You okay?”
“I am,” I say, standing, having at some point sat back down at the table. “Just deep in thought. How are you?”
“You mean because of that little incident in the meeting?” She waves it off. “That was nothing. I won’t let it be anything, because Garner Neuville doesn’t get that kind of power. Besides, he’ll be dead soon.”
“He will be,” I agree, waiting for some guilt or distress to form, but all I feel is regret that I won’t be the one to kill him. “But every person who touches our lives leaves a mark. He’s left a mark on both of us. Even when he’s dead, that stays. You know that, right?”
“Not if I don’t let it.”
“You can deny it, Sasha, but eventually it demands notice.”
“Are you talking to me or you?”
“Both of us,” I say, accepting now that my mind is blocking everything that leads to Garner Neuville. “Obviously my mind thinks I can’t handle the truth, and it’s frustrating.”
She leans on the door frame, studying me for several long moments. “At least if he’s dead, the fear of knowing he’s on this earth is gone.”
“That’s true,” I say. “That’s some closure, and I admit I’m hungry to find that. I wanted to go to Paris and finish it myself. Kayden wasn’t happy with that idea.”
“If he was, I’d personally have to kick his ass, Hawk or no Hawk. You know what Neuville is like.”
“I thought returning to Paris might jog my memory and help me find the necklace.”
“It also could get you killed. But,” she pushes off the frame, her hands settling on her hips, “I do have an idea. I know Paris well. We could print out pictures of Neuville’s neighborhood, and any other area you remember. Maybe they will help.”
“That’s a great idea.”
“We can use Adriel’s office,” she says. “He has a printer.”
“Technically my office now,” I say, joining her and walking down the hallway. “I’m taking over the store now that he’s returning to hunting.”
“That’s a misuse of your talents, as it was his,” she says.
“Kayden isn’t exactly ready for me to dive into hunting, even after Neuville is gone.”
“Yes, well, he’s always believed Niccolo was behind Elizabeth’s and Kevin’s murders.”
“He’s all but admitted it.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Neuville is a crazy person, but make no mistake, Niccolo is an evil bastard. Kevin must have crossed him in some big way, though we’ll probably never know the details.”
“And now there’s Evil Eye.”
“Yes. And it really does work. One thing you’ll learn once you meet all our field Hunters, here and around the world, is that The Underground has the power to destroy empires. And Neuville is just a crazy person. Literally.”
“You know, maybe I could take over dispatching from Matteo,” I suggest. “That’s a safe way to get involved and ease Kayden into the idea of me working with him.”
“That’s also a misuse of your skills. I’ve seen you in action, and heard from others about how you handle yourself in a fight.”
“It would allow me to get to know the Hunters, the types of jobs, and the ins and outs of things. And it seems a misuse of talent to have ‘one of the best hackers on the planet’ being a dispatcher.” I laugh. “His words, not mine.”
She laughs as well. “How could I not know that?”
I make an Italian Stallion joke in French, and she gives me a surprised look. “You speak French.”
“I do,” I say. “I have no idea how I learned it or why, but I remember the language.”
“You think you’re CIA?”
“I really don’t know,” I say, but in my gut, I am certain my connection to the CIA is far greater than just my father. “I think most likely my father taught me the trade, like he did so many other things.”
“Maybe he worked in Paris,” she says. “That would mean he most certainly knew Garner’s parents, and maybe even him.”
“That’s an interesting thought,” I say, “but he’s been dead a long time. It’s not impossible, but I’m doubtful he has any real connection to any of this.” But she’s now got me thinking about my father and his murder. Could that be connected to the French mob? Could I have wanted to go to Paris to follow a lead, and that’s why I jumped on the elopement? Something about this feels more right to me than any other explanation.
“As for you doing the dispatching,” she says, thankfully changing the topic, “think about how that would consume Kayden. He needs to be thinking of the big picture. You’d pull him into the small pictures.”
“Hmmm,” I say, as the door opens. “That’s a good point.” We enter the store to find the lights have remained on, and I punch the button to lower the doors, which is mandatory for security. With the doors down, anyone who gets into the store can’t get to the rest of the castle.
“Now that the meeting is over,” she says, as we walk toward the front of the store, passing glass cases filled with collectibles, “Marabella is out of exile. You think she might be convinced to bring us food? That woman makes the best everything. Her cooking is a guilty pleasure. Well, that and Adriel. It’s a two-for-one when I’m here.”
“I’ll call her, on one condition,” I say. “You have to tell me the real scoop on you and Adriel.”
She laughs. “There’s nothing to tell,” she says, making it clear she’s not going there.
We round the counter to find Matteo sitting behind the small wooden desk, full bookshelves surrounding him, and I feel a little like I’m in a crowded elevator with the three of us in the small space. “We need the printer,” Sasha announces. “You have to find another spot to work.”
He shoves fingers through his wavy dark hair and says something to her in Italian, which she answers in English. “We’re trying to jolt her memory and find the necklace. Are you convinced to get up now?”
“That does the trick,” he says, shutting his MacBook and standing. “I’ll be in the TV room. I’m calling Marabella to bring food.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Sasha says as he exits. “Ask her if she has any of those chocolate croissants she makes,” she calls after him, but he ignores her. “Maybe we should call ourselves.”
“She’ll take care of us,” I assure her, claiming the visitor’s seat while she sits down behind the desk and powers up the desktop.
“I’m sure you’re right,” she says, and then moves on. “Okay. I know you were at Garner’s place,
so I’ll start by printing out things around his building.” She grabs a pad and pencil and hands them to me. “Write down other locations you want me to focus on. And really, anything you remember. I’ll try to turn that into a destination and photo.”
“Chocolate shops,” I say. “I went to one the night I called Neuville for help, and I’m hoping that finding the one I visited could flip a memory switch.”
“I’ll go out on a limb here and estimate that there are about a hundred chocolate shops in Paris,” she says. “Can you narrow it down at all? Was it near his home?”
I write down the address I found inside the necklace and hand it to her. “Near this location. And I need pictures of anything and everything around this address.”
She types in the address. “Five chocolate shops within only three blocks. I’ll start printing them out.”
“What about within eight blocks? I went that far after the murder.”
“Trying to disappear,” she says. “Smart.” She keys into the computer. “Another four.” The printer begins to hum and I start writing down the places I do remember.
A few minutes later, I’m looking at a printed image of the store and street fronts for all nine shops, and I see one that I’m certain is the location I’ve been looking for. I stuff it at the back of the stack, not wanting to black out in a flashback right now.
“Anything?” Sasha asks.
“Not yet, but when Blake Walker shared things with me, I didn’t immediately feel the trigger. It came later in the day.”
“Well then, let’s just print out everything and get you armed.”
I hear the exterior door opening and I push to my feet, exiting the office as Marabella calls out, “Chocolate croissants have arrived.”
I round the counter and rush to meet her, finding her lugging two picnic baskets, and I have this sense of belonging, of rightness here in the castle. Death might live here, but so do new beginnings, healing, and perseverance. I belong here, no matter what my past might try to say otherwise. It’s at that moment that a peal of thunder rattles the store windows, as if I’m being told the calm before the storm is over.
An hour and a half later, my stomach is stuffed, my stack of papers is substantial, and there is no word from Kayden, which has me feeling pretty antsy. “I think that’s about everything,” Sasha says, finishing off a croissant before handing me one last page. “I even printed everything I could find here in Rome that’s near the alleyway where you were found. But there’s one other place in Paris I wanted to mention. Did you ever go to the club?”
Ice slides down my spine and I quickly shove away the memory of being tied up, the whip biting into my skin. “He took you there?”
“Fool that I am,” she says, “I went by choice. Naively—who’d ever think to call me that—I didn’t see that we’re his targets. He likes powerful women he can break. If they submit easily, he doesn’t want them. But I guess that’s good. I mean, think about how he affects us. Can you imagine what he would do to someone with a different nature?”
“I don’t even want to consider that.”
“But maybe that’s the point,” she continues. “He wants to be able to push and push and push some more.”
“Why were you involved with him?”
“We had a contract with a French diplomat who wanted to take him down once and for all. The paycheck was huge and I’d get to take down the brutal head of the French mob. I was so inspired that I stayed even when it got bad. Did he ever make you call him Master? That was where the trouble started for me. I have this ‘never surrender’ mentality that he saw as a challenge.”
My mind starts swimming with images, and I begin to tremble. I drop my head forward, fighting the flashback I can’t have here. Not in front of Sasha, and with Matteo nearby, perhaps walking in at any moment. I fight hard, but it’s no use. Suddenly I am in the past, though not at the club. I am in his bedroom. Garner Neuville’s bedroom.
I am naked. He is not. He’s dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt. I’m on my knees and he’s holding the flogger I hate so damn much. I stare at the floor, willing myself to just get through this.
“Look at me,” he orders, and I ignore my warning to myself and his command. “Look at me.”
I can’t do it. I just . . . can’t.
His fingers tangle in my hair and he yanks my head back, the tug against my scalp biting. “I see that defiance in your eyes, my love. You dare to look at me this way? The man who saved you? The man who owns this city, as I own you? The man who deleted the security footage that showed you leaning over a dying man?”
And there it is. A promise to destroy me should I not submit, delivered by the mob boss. A laundry list of the many ways he can, and will, hurt me if I leave him. And a reminder to me that I can’t kill him yet. Not when I’ve seen enough of his operation to know he will be avenged. Not until I know I’m ready to disappear and take the necklace with me.
“Say thank you,” he orders.
“Thank you,” I force out.
“You don’t sound like you mean it.” He leans in and brushes his lips over mine. “I can taste your disobedience. Ah, love. The moment I break you will be the most erotic of my life.” He nips my lips, a painful punishment that draws blood, his voice roughening. “I am your Master. You will say it before this night is over.”
He tightens the grip on my hair and reaches down and smacks my nipple with the flogger. But I don’t give him what he wants. I do not cry out; I do not so much as whimper. “Master,” he repeats.
I want to kill him.
I want to hurt him first.
I want this night to be the night I get to do those things.
“Say it,” he commands. “Master.”
I don’t say it, but he doesn’t even wait to realize that. He releases my hair and thankfully drops the flogger, only to produce a rope from his pocket. “Put your hands in front of you.”
The moment I let him tie me up, the real torture will start and I’ll be unable to kill him.
“Hands,” he demands.
Kill him!
No.
Not yet.
Survive. You have to survive, or you won’t enjoy his death.
He grabs my arms and pulls me to my feet, turning me to face the bed before shoving me down, half my naked body on the mattress, my backside in the air. And then he has my arms, and I know that this is it. I have only moments to decide how this ends. In thirty seconds I could snap his neck. But then what? I can’t get to the money I stashed tonight. I can’t get to the necklace tonight. He binds my hands, thinking he’s forced me, having no clue that I let him. And then his hand is on my lower back, and he shifts. I steel myself for what I know is coming, fearing it and him, not because I couldn’t kill him. Because I can’t yet, which means I am this man’s property.
And then it happens, the expected, and yet it’s still a shock. The flogger smacks my backside with vicious force. He lets that first hard smack sting, lets the promise of another linger in the air, and then he’s punishing me. Hitting me again. Once, twice, twenty brutal times, and then it’s his hand on my flesh instead of the flogger. Over and over and over again. In some part of my mind, I know that pain is his way of telling me that to survive, I must surrender. And I hate that it’s true. But he’s going to really hate the moment he finds out that my surrender is my control—not his.
“Ella. Ella.”
Sasha’s voice permeates the flashback, bringing me back to the present, and I become aware of my elbows on the desk, my chin to my chest and my hair draped around my face. I inhale, willing myself to regain my composure, and suddenly my mind goes to earlier today with Kayden. To us naked on the couch, with my hands taped and him promising to spank me.
“Why aren’t you afraid, Ella?” he’d asked.
“Because you’re not him,” I’d said.
/> I have never appreciated Kayden as much as I do in this moment, and how easily he could have made me feel like a prisoner but never did.
“Ella,” Sasha repeats softly.
“Yes,” I say, shoving my fingers through my hair. For the briefest of moments, I realize I was a redhead in my flashback and yet now, with brown hair, I am so much more myself than I ever was with Garner Neuville. “I’m sorry,” I add. “The flashbacks come fast and hard, and if I don’t let them happen, I lose the memory. Unfortunately, it wasn’t useful.”
“Sweetie,” she says softly. “I know who you were with in that flashback. I saw how you trembled. But that’s between us.”
I swallow against my suddenly dry throat. “Thank you, Sasha.”
“I hate that you have to relive Neuville to find that necklace.”
“I’m not sorry,” I say. “I have to do this. My surrender is my control.”
She arches a brow. “What?”
“He can’t have my fear. I’m angry that my mind keeps sheltering me—but not for long. I’m going to remember it all. I’m close. Very close.”
“Any luck?”
At the sound of Matteo’s voice, I twist around to find him in the doorway. “I’m armed with potential triggers,” I say, holding up the papers we’ve printed. “But the memories come as they please, not as I will. It’s no miracle fix. What about you?”
“Chris Merit and Blake Walker check out,” he says. “I can find absolutely nothing to suggest otherwise.”
“What about Chris running in the same circles as Neuville?”
“There’s nothing there that looks like a problem to me,” he says. “And I dug deeply. I’ve sent a detailed file you can review to Kayden’s email.”
The buzzer at the front door goes off and we all frown. Matteo pulls his phone from his pocket and eyes the screen. “It’s a man with a trench coat and a hood on.” He walks around the desk. “I need to see the larger view.” He reaches over Sasha and types, then clicks.