The End of Me (The Single Lady Spy #1)
Page 28He jumped slightly, “He was. The Master Key dies when it’s his turn to retire. He always dies. There is no other way to protect his family, if it is discovered he was a Master Key. I have endangered you by telling you with these other people here. Your children will never be safe again. Are you happy you know?”
I fought a sob, “Fuck!” What other word was there?
I looked around the room for the magic beanbag, as my neck nearly seized.
Chapter Twelve – Love in all the wrong places
I stared up into the dark ceiling and knew.
There was one answer to the problem in my mind. I glanced over at Luce’s rising and falling chest. She was either sleeping or very good at faking.
I reached for my clutch and slipped the phone from it. Coop had told me to leave it behind, but I hadn’t. I didn’t want to think about why. I looked at the screen and the number that had called seventeen times and pressed it. I pressed the message button and texted slowly, ‘Come Find Me! I’m in SLC’
I pressed send and tried to keep my breathing even. What was he going to do to me, if I came back? Would he hurt me?
I slipped from the bed and tiptoed from the room and down the hall. I picked my shoes up, but as I rounded the corner I heard a whisper, “You won’t get far you know. Mister serious, he likes you.”
I turned to see a pair of dark eyes in the shadowed corner of the store.
I nodded, “He’s like nine-years old. I need answers, Fitz. I’m done risking you. Tell them I went back to Boston. Tell them to forget they ever met you.”
He smiled and I could see the glint of his teeth from the streetlights shining in the window, “I’ll be out of here the minute they are, kid.”
I shook my head, “I’m so sorry to have involved you.”
He chuckled softly, “I knew it would come for me one day. I’m glad it was you. The Burrow can’t stay hidden without a lot of work, and unfortunately, times are changing. It’s getting increasingly harder to keep its secret.”
I frowned, “What do you do with the doctors that don’t want to stay hidden?”
His eyes narrowed as he stepped forward and hugged me, “Have a safe trip, kid. Go easy on the arms dealer.” He ignored my question.
I pulled back, “How do you know it all?”
He kissed my cheek, “I still know people.”
I nodded, “Okay. Thanks, Uncle.” I kissed his weathered face and opened the front door to the store. I walked down the cold sidewalk and turned up an alley. I pulled on my boots and tucked the card in my clutch.
The phone vibrated.
‘Done with your uncle then?’
My heart hurt instantly. I went to the phone function and dialed in the code and then the number to the shop. Fitz answered, “You missing me already?”
“RUN, FITZ! DON’T WAIT! WAKE THEM AND RUN NOW!”
He hung up before I had a chance to explain. I started to run. I dialed the number that had called repeatedly.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this midnight call?”
I sighed, “I need you to help me.” I ran to a corner and stopped there. I pressed my back into the concrete wall and spoke softly, “I will do whatever you want, if you help me.”
He sighed, “You know how to play hardball. Whatever I want?”
I bit my lip. I wanted to call him a pervert degenerate, but I didn’t. I nodded, “Whatever you want. But you can’t hurt anyone. Not my uncle, not the team helping me, and not my family.”
A large black SUV pulled up the corner of the street. The window lowered. I gasped when I saw his face, “We can negotiate in the car.”
I lowered the phone. How had he done it? No one should have known about Fitz. There was no way we were followed, unless one of us was a mole. And yet there in front of me was Servario, with a look that could skin a cat.
I looked both ways and walked across the road softly. I expected a bullet to strike me in the back, as he moved over and I climbed in.
The new car smell struck me. “Did you buy this today?”
His eyes had none of the green hints in them, that were there when he was happy. I closed the door and looked down, “Please don’t hurt them,” I whispered.
He tapped the glass in front of us and the SUV drove away. As we rounded the corner, I caught a glimpse of Coop running after us.
“Ironic, isn’t it,” he said and sipped from his glass, “Last time it was me running, desperate for you to stay with me, and it was young Cooper driving away with you in his car.” He leaned over, taking a good look at Coop, “I have to say, I think he has a bit of a thing for you.”
I shook my head as I watched Coop from the window, “No, he doesn’t. He’s like that with everyone. He’s flirty and fun away from the job, and serious and controlling on the job. Somehow he makes it fun still, even when he’s serious.”
I looked up at Servario’s stoic face, “I’m sorry I ran.” I needed the subject changed.
He turned, “Are you?”
I swallowed and nodded, “I am.”
“We’ll see.”
He made me shiver.
He didn’t speak to me as we drove. I continued to look at him, to try to catch a glimpse of how he was feeling or what he was thinking.
We arrived at the airport and the door was opened. He climbed out and walked to the plane. Roxy was startled to see me. She looked down as I boarded. I assumed that was bad.
My heart was in my throat. I sat in my seat from before and fought the nervous tears that were threatening me. I was cooler than that, a better spy than to cry from his possible anger. I would take what he would dish.
He didn’t sit beside me, like before. He went to the cockpit.
Roxy brought me a glass of wine and quickly left again. Her eyes never met mine.
Steve nodded at me as he took his seat.
I laid the seat back and closed my eyes. If he was going to beat or torture me, I would have to take it. I needed answers; they were worth whatever happened to me.
I closed my eyes and saw my kids’ faces. Jules smiling at me and looking so much like her father it was painful, and Mitch trying so hard to be grownup.
At least they had a ninja granny to protect them. I made it out unscathed, they would too.
“We’re about to take off, you should at least hold the wine,” his voice was detached as he took his seat.
I sat up quickly and held the glass. The jet started right away and began the taxi to the runway.
I glanced nervously in his direction. I was having a hard time seeing the cruel man and not the curve of his lips or the thickness of his fingers. I sipped the wine at first and then finished in a gulp, “Why are you so angry?”
He focused on the laptop in front of him, “I’m not.”
A smile played with his lips momentarily, and then it was back to stoic. He looked at me for a second, “I was crossing the line before. It was wrong. I’m not your husband, Evie.”
I unbuckled the seat belt and walked to the bathroom. I closed the door and sat on the closed toilet lid. He always had me in knots, whenever he was around. It was like walking on thin ice, constantly.
The jet started to take off, slamming my side into the sink. I tried to grab ahold of the bar next to me, but the force was too great. I gave in and let it squish me into the counter. I needed to think anyway.
I wanted answers and details from him, but he was no longer interested in me sexually. Why had he been so interested before, or at all? Nothing was making much sense and without the womanly wiles to get him talking, I didn’t know what else to do. I could try to spin it around in my favor. I could do what I did to James, and act like I was the angry one. He hated that.
It was an idea. When the plane got to cruising altitude, I stripped naked and cleaned myself in the sink with the hand towels, which was awkward and familiar. I opened the door and looked down the hall. He was no longer in the chair. I tiptoed to the very back of the plane to the dressing closet. I dropped my clothes on the floor and looked through the racks of clothes.
It was a sea of designer labels and soft fabrics. I pulled on a white lacy bra and matching panties. They still had tags, making it slightly less weird. Settling on Armani, I went with the most coverage I could get. I looked very comfortable in the long black, side-slit maxi skirt and mocha sleeveless, tie-waist tunic. I looked around for sandals. Instead, I found a suede pair of black Manolo Blahnik mules with a pointed toe. It was an elegant choice and made me look like a wife.
I pulled on a couple bracelets and pulled my long, dark hair up into a bun.
“That tan tunic compliments your dark skin,” Roxy said with a soft smile.
I grinned, “Thanks. My dad was half Black Irish and half Icelandic. Dark hair and golden skin. It was a good thing to inherit. My twin sister and I aren’t identical and she looks more like our mother.”
She grabbed my hand and whispered, “Are you insane for coming back?”
I nodded, “I need him.”
She rolled her eyes, “Oh my God, if you knew how many times I’d heard that from girls about him. He’s a bigot player. You need to run.”
I forced the fake smile to remain on my lips, “It’s not like that, I assure you.”
She gave me the up down, “Really?”
I blushed, “I wanted to look professional, not the other kind of professional. All your clothes are more twenty-three and hitting the clubs. This suits me and my other clothes were covered in garden dirt.”
She waved her hands, “This is exactly what he bought for you. He brought it on board yesterday. Jesus, you played right into his hands, calling him. I lost ten bucks in the bet we placed on you showing up and putting this on.”