Crossing Stars

  I shook my head. “I wonder if you’ll still be saying that when you’re dodging bullets on the side lawn.”

  Rylan chuckled before kissing my temple one last time. I doubted he knew where the bullet had grazed me—or if the Morans even knew that their assassin had fired one before his chest had been filled with hollow points—but the edge of his mouth skimmed the edge of my scar. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m invincible.”

  As he crawled out the window, my voice caught in my throat. He was already hanging outside of it and leaping onto the grass before I cleared it.

  “That’s exactly what I’m worried you’re not,” I whispered as he rolled to a stand.

  He sprinted across the estate grounds like he was more specter than man, and I watched until he disappeared behind the hedges lining the estate. He was right—he’d escaped totally undetected, almost like he’d never been there. If it wasn’t for his taste still on my mouth or his words fresh in my ears, I might have believed I’d imagined it all.

  I’m invincible.

  I’d never wanted to believe a person’s words more, yet I knew they were the least truthful ones I’d ever heard.

  I WAS BEING fitted for wedding dresses tomorrow morning. That’s why I really wished tonight was the night we were escaping. How was I supposed to smile and excitedly hmm and haw over dresses when Constantine was the last person I wanted to marry, especially since I was being forced into the whole thing under a veiled threat of death? Yeah, I was up a creek.

  That was why I was practically bouncing as I counted down the minutes until I got to see Rylan again. I was hoping that seeing him and putting together the final details for our escape would give me the jolt of hope I needed to get through the veils and lace tomorrow.

  After Rylan left last week, I hadn’t said anything to Mrs. Bailey about the knowledge I’d become privy to. But from the unusual silence that had passed between us all week, I guessed she knew. I didn’t know if she was waiting for me to bring it up, or couldn’t bring herself to broach the subject, or preferred to keep the past in the past, but the topic had settled heavy between us. No doubt she felt guilty for the task she’d been given all those years ago, and I felt guilty for her choosing my life over her husband’s. Neither of us had been fully or even mostly responsible for the reasons we harbored our guilt, which made me even angrier. For the millionth time in my short life, I’d been an unwilling pawn in a game I’d never wanted to play.

  I was so ready to say good-bye to this life. It was the first thing I said when I rolled out of bed, the last thing I whispered before closing my eyes at night, what I hummed in the shower, what I played on repeat throughout the rest of the day. When I said Good morning to my mom in the morning, what I meant was good-bye. When I said Thanks to Mrs. Bailey in class, what I was thinking was good-bye. When I said Okay to my father, what I was saying was good-bye . . . and maybe a few other choice words.

  I was prepared to say good-bye to the only life I’d ever known—the very one I couldn’t wait to leave behind. I’d never really learned how to live in it. That was what I was going to focus on in my new life—the living part.

  Rylan had been right about time helping dim the confusion. A week hadn’t been enough to clear it all up, but some was better than none. In between working out all of the things I’d learned from him, I plotted ways to leave the estate undetected. That took more time than I’d have thought—probably because I couldn’t walk down the hall by myself. Especially with the enhanced security my father had added after receiving no fewer than two dozen threats to my life daily following the Armistice ceremony.

  No doubt if I refused to marry Constantine, my father would eagerly accept any and all death threats that came my way, but for now, he was being cautious.

  After coming up with no fewer than forty-one possible escape routes, in the end, only one was truly feasible. Mainly because the only time I was ever left alone was when I was in my bedroom, and partially because I was too big a chicken to Taser my guard and hide him in a closet so I could escape. In Rylan fashion, I’d decided to wait until I’d “gone to bed” to crawl over my balcony and jet across the lawn. I hoped to make just as speedy and secret of an escape as he had. I’d managed it with Serena weeks ago; I should be able to manage it on my own.

  I didn’t have a back-up plan, which was unwise. I didn’t know what I’d do if I was stopped, and I didn’t have a weapon any more threatening than a pair of fabric scissors. So to sum it up? My plan was made of fail.

  But fail or not, it was what I had. The one thing I didn’t lack was determination, although in this case, I wasn’t sure if that could be considered an attribute or a vice.

  As I stood in front of my wall mirror, zipping up my jacket, I looked ready for a new life. I certainly looked nothing like the girl who’d lived in this room for the last eighteen years. Pale pinks and powder blues in soft cottons and linens had been replaced by black leather and denim. My hair was pulled up into a high ponytail at the crown of my head, and my ballet flats had been stomped out by a pair of boots that seemed to weigh half as much as I did. I looked the part of a woman who’d be sneaking out of places to make secrets plans with a man—thanks to the heap of clothing Serena had left behind from her weekend visits—but it was time to act the part.

  Once I’d triple-checked my pockets for money and the scissors, I sucked in a breath, turned out my bedroom lights, and headed for the balcony. There was a chill in the air—or was that just me?—that made me button the collar of the leather motorcycle jacket I had on. After checking to make sure a guard wasn’t immediately below the balcony, I rolled my shoulders a few times, bouncing on the balls of my feet to psych myself up.

  The next part was harder—the climbing-over part. The taking-the-leap-of-faith part. The there’s-no-going-back part. Planning to climb down a balcony was nothing, but this . . . this was where I found out just how far I was willing to go to break free. I took two long breaths before I could swing one leg over the edge of the balcony, and another two before I could swing the other. From there, I had to twist and adjust until I was ready to climb down the trellis. For some reason, the ground seemed farther away than it ever had before. Instead of ten or fifteen feet, it looked more like fifty. The moisture seemed to pass to my hands until they were a clammy mess.

  My fear was running away from me. I made myself close my eyes, exhale slowly, and picture Rylan. He was waiting. For me. To discuss the final how and when so we could escape. My heart slowed, my lungs filled, my muscles relaxed, and my mind calmed. Opening my eyes, I lowered my legs into the ivy until my feet found something solid. Hand under hand, foot under foot, I pretended I was climbing down a ladder instead of a maze of ivy.

  Once I was a few feet from the ground, I leapt the rest of the way. I crouched to the ground, scanning the area to see if anyone had seen me. The night was quiet, almost still. There wasn’t even a breeze. The loudest sound was my breath, coming in and out in a nervous rush. I studied the grounds in front of me, tracing an imaginary line that I’d sprint down to hopefully escape undetected. Rylan was right—the surveillance cameras had gaps. They were sliver-thin gaps, but if I managed to stay inside the gaps and no one patrolling the grounds saw me, I could make it.

  Part of my week had involved reconnaissance, which was a fancy word for me dropping off a plate of tiramisu to the technicians in the surveillance room a few nights ago. They’d been so busy devouring dessert and espresso, I’d had plenty of time to examine every screen and where the gaps were. Thankfully, there was a small one just outside of my bedroom. I was certain staying within that paper-thin gap would be impossible, but I’d put some of my success tonight on luck. Luck that neither of the two technicians would be looking at the one screen I was racing across, and luck that the sleeping aid I’d snuck into their espresso would have kicked in a half hour ago.

  Luck or not, I was going to try to be perfect. I was going to run that imaginary line that no camera could see. I was going
to sprint faster than a gazelle, and I wasn’t going to look back, not even if I heard shouts behind me. Tonight was a dress rehearsal for the final escape in the days or weeks to come.

  Tucking my hair into the hood of the sweatshirt I had on beneath the jacket, I whispered a quiet prayer, felt adrenaline trickle into my veins, and then I took off. I couldn’t remember ever running so fast. I whipped by the rose bushes that were about the mid-point in the estate before I realized I’d taken off. At this pace, the wind cut across my face like a river breaking over a boulder, but all the cool, sharp air did was speed me up.

  When I made it to the tall hedge sweeping the perimeter of the estate, I didn’t hear any voices hollering after me or footsteps pounding in my direction. As I tucked myself through the hedge, I checked behind me, finding the grounds just as silent and unbothered as if I’d never passed through them. On the other hand, I felt like both my heart and lungs were about to burst from the exertion . . . but I’d made it. My smile didn’t falter as I climbed over the ten-foot iron fence just past the hedge, nor did it dim when I sprinted again, heading down the street in hopes of finding a taxi.

  It took more blocks than less before I finally came to a street busy enough to warrant a few taxis zipping by. I slowed from a sprint to a walk to hail the first one I saw. It sped right past me. Probably because I was covered head-to-toe in black and had a hood covering my head. It was dangerous, but I couldn’t chance all the taxis in Chicago passing me because I looked like I was going to hold them up, so I lowered my hood and stepped up to the curb.

  The next taxi that passed stopped. After crawling inside, I gave the driver an address a few blocks away from the warehouse—I’d rather walk the rest of the way than let anyone know exactly where we were—then slipped the hood back into place and squirmed down into the seat.

  I wasn’t hiding from the enemy, but my so-called allies. If anyone noticed the white-blond girl hailing a cab this deep in Costa territory, so close to the Costa estate, it wouldn’t be hard to put two and two together. I couldn’t change whoever might have seen me back there on the sidewalk, but I could stop whoever might see me while driving by the cab. Just because I was willing to take chances didn’t mean I was willing to take unnecessary ones.

  This late at night, it only took about twenty minutes for the cab to get to the address. The cab driver stared out the windshield at the old warehouses like they were about to come to life. He asked me twice within three blocks if I was sure I had the right address. I assured him, twice, that it was.

  After I paid him, his gaze diverted again to the decaying warehouses painted with more graffiti than whatever they’d originally been painted in. “This isn’t a safe part of town, ma’am.”

  Another irony. “This is probably one of the safest parts of town for me, but thank you for your concern and the ride.” I flashed him a reassuring smile as I climbed out. Whatever might go bump in the night around here, Rylan was a mere three blocks away, ready and plenty capable to save me from them. Plus I had scissors zipped into the inside pocket of the leather jacket. Might not be the most intimidating weapon in the world, but they could still do plenty of damage.

  After the taxi sped off, I started for the warehouse down by the water. Being this close to the lake, the breeze was especially cold. My cheeks felt numb by the time I’d gone two blocks, but that didn’t stop me from breaking into a jog for the final block. The increased speed made the frigid breeze feel like tiny knives stabbing into my face repeatedly, but I was past feeling pain. All I felt was elation as the realization of what I’d just done settled in.

  I’d escaped. On my own, using my own plan and volition, I’d snuck past some of the most impressive security in the city. Meek, non-threatening, obedient, skirt-and-sweater-wearing Josette Costa had done what few of the most highly trained men could have. I supposed that sometimes, overwhelming determination made up for years of training. Thankfully.

  Other than a few rats that hurried out of my path, there were no signs of life. But that didn’t mean nobody else was here. I couldn’t see them, but I felt them watching me. From the dark alleys I passed to the dilapidated warehouses’ broken windows, I felt their eyes on me. I guessed most were harmless—wanting, like me, to make it through the night undisturbed—but I unzipped my jacket and the pocket my scissors were stuffed in nonetheless. Just because I didn’t feel threatened didn’t mean I shouldn’t be ready.

  The address Rylan had given me was sprayed above the door of the last warehouse on the street. Somehow, it was in worse shape than the others. It almost looked like if I blew on it, it would tumble over. The door was cracked open just wide enough for a body to slip in.

  Closing my eyes, I whispered another silent prayer, one that was meant for no one god, but any and all that would listen. Then I slid through the door. Inside the warehouse, every sound echoed. The sound of dripping water filled the room, along with creaks and groans as the building whined in the breeze. The air smelled equally of stagnant air and mildew. There was just enough moonlight casting through the holes in the roof to highlight the room so a person would know where and where not to step. If this was the place my father and Patrick Moran met on occasion, there must be power running through this place somewhere.

  I tip-toed away from the door, finding it difficult to imagine my father in a place like this. The farther I moved inside though, the more I realized the warehouse was the building equivalent of my father—in need of being torn-down and leveled because it was long past saving. I was tempted to call out for Rylan, but I didn’t want anyone else to know I was there. Someone could have made a home in the dark corners of this place, and I was alone and had nothing more than a pair of scissors to defend myself with. So I kept slinking through the room, dodging the brightest shafts of moonlight and tucking behind old pillars and ancient pieces of machinery.

  From the looks of it, I was halfway through the building when I heard what sounded like a voice . . . or voices. So many other noises sounded around me, it was hard to be sure. It was just as hard to determine if the voice, or one of them, was Rylan’s.

  After another fifty feet or so, I noticed a power cord. Of course in a place like this, plenty of power cords and lines and wires were running all over the place, but this one wasn’t covered in an inch of mud and dust. This one was regularly used. This cord, snaking just below an outlet, would turn something on. Hopefully, the lights.

  Crawling on my hands and knees the rest of the way to the cord, I was close enough to ascertain I was definitely hearing voices and one of them sounded like Rylan’s. I didn’t think he’d bring anyone with him, but I trusted him. If his plans had changed, they’d changed for a reason. Lifting the cord to the outlet, I slid it in, and the warehouse went from mostly dark to mostly light thanks to the florescent lights on the ceiling. It took my eyes a moment to adjust, but once they did, I barely noticed the rust and decay surrounding me. The only thing I saw was Rylan.

  A wide aisle cut down the center of the warehouse, and he was on the other side of it, almost directly across from me. He was on his knees, his hands behind his head. A cut above his eyebrow was leaking blood down the side of his face, and a gun was to his head. Circling him were four men.

  Four familiar men.

  Equal parts rage and fear consumed me when I realized that somehow, four Costa men had gotten to Rylan, and from the looks of it, they hadn’t come to negotiate. The four men holding their guns on Rylan were busy scanning the room, probably wondering who or what had turned on the lights. Rylan’s gaze almost immediately flickered in my direction. When he saw me crouching in the shadows, his face issued a warning as he mouthed a discreet, Don’t.

  I whipped my head side to side. If he thought I would stay hidden while four of my own men drew straws for who got the honor of messing him up or worse, then he was about to get an education. Just as I was about to leap up, something gleaming in the shadows next to me caught my eye. Snatching it, I bolted up and stepped into the light-drenche
d aisle.

  Rylan grimaced, maybe from the gash seeping blood or maybe because of me disobeying his instructions, but a couple of the men were still too busy gazing around the room to notice me. The other two were too busy grinning at Rylan.

  I raised Rylan’s gun, clutching the grip with both hands. “Think about shooting him for one more second, and I won’t wait a second to shoot all of you.”

  Four heads whipped my way. Four guns followed.

  “Who the hell are you?” one of the men asked, the one I think was named Vito. “Just so the coroner knows what name to put on your toe tag.”

  I lowered my hood as I narrowed my eyes. “Josette Costa. The daughter of your current boss and the woman who will be your future boss.”

  I didn’t flinch; my eyes never lowered. Their guns lowered instantly, only to return to Rylan. My heart thundered, but I didn’t let them see a moment of weakness on my face.

  “Miss Costa?” the one named Giovanni said, looking as dumbfounded as he sounded. “What are you doing here?”

  The barrel of my pistol moved in his direction. “I’ll ask the questions, and you’ll answer them.” My voice even intimidated me as it echoed off the walls. “What are you doing here? And why do you all have guns pointed at the son and heir of Patrick Moran?”

  I knew keeping as much distance between Rylan and I was paramount. If my father’s men suspected Rylan and I were what we were, all hope of them listening to me and backing away would be gone. And if I didn’t get them to back off, it didn’t take much to figure out what would happen in a gun fight between four armed men, one unarmed man, and an armed woman who’d never fired off a single shot in her life.

  “We’re just following orders, Miss Costa,” Vito answered, his eyes moving from me to Rylan like he couldn’t decide who posed the greater threat.