“Sounds like the book was a way someone delivered him information.”
“That’s what I thought at the time, too,” I say, “and I wanted to know who DOD was, so I started digging for anything I could find with that name. One of his old Rolodexes had a David Densen in it, but I found nothing. So I started going through every one of my father’s hundreds of books, starting with the common denominator of Stephen King novels.”
“And you found something.”
“An email address.”
“And?”
“Every option had flaws, but I finally settled on going to a public computer and emailing as my father. The message was: Tell DOD I’m alive. Must talk. Candycand5 to RumbleRed11. Meet in person.”
“And then what happened?”
“Somehow the CIA knew it was me. They showed up at the house. Told me DOD was now dead, thanks to me, and that I was to never speak of such things again. They questioned me and asked where I found the information. I lied and said in a desk drawer. I wanted to go through the rest of the books. The next morning, I was sent on an assignment in Washington, D.C. that lasted a month.”
“What assignment?”
“A double agent I was supposed to expose and deliver, which I did. Upon returning home, I was handed a check for my family home that had burned down, which they said was related to the DOD murder and the reason they got me out of town. And why I was being assigned to San Francisco as a schoolteacher.”
“Where were you living?”
“North Carolina, right across the border from the Virginia training facility for the CIA.”
“Just far enough to not make it obvious your father was CIA,” Kayden assumes. “You used a public server to email that message?”
“Yes. A local copy shop. And I cleared my history, but that can be retrieved.”
“They’d been watching you, thinking you’d lead them to something connected to your father.”
“They had to be, which must mean whatever it was is big. I mean, I was a long shot, but . . . it can’t be the necklace, right?”
He taps the address I’ve written down. “Paris and the CIA are common denominators. I don’t think we can rule that out. I’ll go to this address myself while I’m there.”
“Why would the necklace show up now, not a year ago when I sent that email and the CIA came to my house? That makes no sense.”
“Unless DOD wasn’t dead, but hiding, and he knew where RumbleRed11 was.”
“And RumbleRed11 was the necklace,” I supply. “Maybe.”
“What do you remember about the CIA now?”
“I was—am—in a program called Black Forest. We don’t exist to the rest of the CIA.”
“Who did you report to?”
“A man named Drew Nelson, though I have no idea if that’s his real name. I met him once. He said he knew my father, and that’s why he recruited me.”
“If you only met him once, how did you get your assignments?”
“Phone calls that told me to go to a lockbox. I also had an emergency extraction phone number that, as I mentioned, wasn’t working when I called for help in Paris.”
“Whether this is connected to your father or not, it’s obvious that someone is dirty in the CIA and used you to transport that necklace, because you’re a woman and you have skills. Which could be as simple as Drew Nelson knowing you and targeting you.”
“But that feels too simple, doesn’t it?”
“It does, and I’d say I’d try and find out who Drew Nelson is. But right now, anything we do could alert Neuville to a setup. This will come after Sunday.”
I inhale and let the breath out, taking back the piece of paper and staring at what I’ve written. Then I turn back to Kayden. “Why can I remember this, but not where the necklace is?”
“We’ve talked about this. You’re blocking something to avoid a trauma.”
“There can’t be anything left to protect me from.” My lips tighten. “The chocolate shop has to be the answer.” I consider this for a moment, images fluttering in my mind, as do facts. “I hid it there. In a planter by the downstairs bathroom. I was sure I’d be followed, so I went to several other places, and walked a good mile before I called Neuville for help.”
“But?”
“But that still doesn’t feel right, even though I’m saying it and I even remember doing it. I had to have moved it.”
He presses his hands on the counter and leans closer. “You’ll remember.”
He’s right; I know I will. But if my mind is blocking me, what else is coming? What nightmare has yet to be exposed?
We go to bed with the confirmation that Blake is now with Chris and Sara, as are Kayden’s men. Apparently Chris Merit is not happy, which is good news to me. He cares; he loves her. He is not another Neuville. And with Kayden wrapped around me, I sleep remarkably soundly, but I dream. Of dancing. Of my mother’s laughter and the smell of her chocolate chip cookies, but even better, my father is there, and this time, he doesn’t die. There is more laughter. There is love. There is a tomorrow.
I wake when Kayden shifts beside me, realizing that his phone is ringing. He rolls over and grabs it from the nightstand, pushing himself up to rest against the massive wooden headboard.
I roll to my stomach, watching his unreadable face, trying to make out the conversation despite it being in Italian, to no avail, but it’s short and sweet anyway. “It’s done,” he announces, ending the call. “Niccolo’s second is dead.”
No tomorrow for him, I think, the news creating a pinch in my chest I know as respect for life lost, but not guilt. I’ve understood killing for necessity ever since the afternoon when chocolate chip cookies ended with me shooting my father’s murderers. “Now what?”
“I’ll take you to one of my favorite restaurants. It makes us look like we have nothing to hide, and I want you to try it anyway. Dress warmly. The outdoor seating is the best.”
An hour later, we’ve driven one of Kayden’s four Jags, the silver F-TYPE, to a spot near the Spanish Steps. The restaurant is on top of the building, and our little checked-tablecloth-covered table is on a balcony, where we sit side by side. “The view is amazing,” I say, scanning the multicolored stucco rooftops, thankful for the heat lamp near our table. “But I’m glad I wore a turtleneck. It’s chilly.” I eye his thin, long-sleeved black T-shirt. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Hot blooded,” he teases. “It’s your fault.”
I laugh, and his phone rings for about the tenth time. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he says. “We’ll come back when it can be a real enjoyment.” He answers his phone, and the waitress sets cups of coffee in front of us. I give her my best Italian grazie and sip the outrageously strong beverage. “Gallo decided to stay in Milan for a few extra days,” he tells me.
“Why do I get the idea that you aren’t pleased? Isn’t that good? He can’t get into the middle of everything we have going on, right?”
“Something about it doesn’t feel right.”
“No. Something doesn’t feel right,” Niccolo says.
I have all of two seconds to stiffen at the sound of his voice behind us before he sits down in front of us, and for once he has color in his face and sharpness in his eyes.
“So nice of you to join us for lunch, Niccolo,” Kayden says, eyeing his heavy coat. “Take off your coat and stay a while.”
Niccolo taps the table and stares at Kayden before cutting his gaze to me. “My second is dead,” he announces, obviously looking for a reaction, not knowing what a damn good actor I am.
“Oh God,” I say, my hand going to my neck. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even know you were married.”
“What?” Niccolo asks, grimacing. “I’m not married. Where did that come from?”
I give him an equally baffled look. “I thought . . . I . . . isn’t a second the tra
nslation for spouse?”
Irritation flashes in his eyes and he looks at Kayden. “What do you know about this?”
“I’ve never heard that translation, and I had no idea you were married,” Kayden says, and it’s all I can do not to laugh.
Niccolo is not amused. “Do not test me, Hawk.”
“You’re wasting my time,” Kayden says. “I have no interest in your second. Maybe your third got word that you’re dying and decided to make a path for himself.”
His eyes dilate to almost black. “No one knows about my”—he seems to reach for a word—“situation but you. And if they find out, I’m coming back to you.”
“Well then, I guess I should delete you from the cancer treatment center’s database,” Kayden replies. “That way you won’t go blaming me when someone else finds your record.”
“Those records are—”
“Easy to get to,” Kayden says. “We’re The Underground. There’s a reason why Evil Eye is so damn evil.” He leans forward, damn near in Niccolo’s face. “If you were to cross the wrong Hawk, that Hawk might just displace you from that program and give someone else your spot. And you won’t be alive to get a second chance.” He leans back in his chair. “Good thing that you represent the stability this region needs.”
I hold my breath, certain Niccolo is about to threaten him, but there’s the slightest hint of fear in Niccolo’s eyes and I get the feeling it’s unfamiliar to him.
“Our local kingpin, Raul Martinez, had troubles in the States. He left. Would you know anything about that?” Niccolo asks.
“I know something about everything,” Kayden says. “That’s what makes me such an ally, isn’t it?”
“Do not mistake what an enemy or ally I can be, Hawk,” Niccolo warns. “I will not leave this earth without rewarding and punishing those who deserve it.” He turns to me. “I’m growing impatient with your amnesia. You have one week.”
He stands up and leaves.
Kayden and I watch him depart, the seconds ticking by before Kayden says, “How was the coffee?”
I give him an incredulous look. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“That was predictable.”
“He’s a problem.”
“He’s necessary for stability, just like I said. Besides, the fear I just saw in his eyes was the sweetest damn revenge I could ask for.”
“What about the necklace?”
“As far as we know, someone stole it from you that night in the alleyway and it ended up back with the British government. He should have protected you better. Niccolo is a problem checked off. Gallo is not.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I don’t want him to end up dead, and Niccolo might just do it to lash out at me at this point. And, what I couldn’t do with Gallo in the past, I might be able to now, with his sister involved: pay him off. I’m going to send Nathan to him and offer him money and protection for him and his sister, to get them far, far away. Let’s hope like hell that checks him off the list, as well.”
My phone buzzes with a text in my purse. I remove it and glance at the screen with a groan. “Marabella and Giada are determined to get me to go shopping with them, on Saturday of all days.” My gut twists a little, and the twist of weird emotions that follow is unsettling. “What do you think?”
“It sounds like hell, but it helps drive home the idea that we’re not planning anything and we’re not involved with what’s about to happen in Paris. In fact, plan it late enough in the day that I can meet you for dinner right before I leave.”
“You aren’t worried about safety?”
His gaze narrows on me and he rests his elbow on the table, leaning in close. “The watch is messing with your head.” It’s not a question.
“No. Yes. Damn it, I hate that I let Garner Neuville make me blink. The first time they brought this shopping trip up to me, my first thought was hell, no. I wanted to lock them away and hide them until this is over. And I really like that I can say that to you. But maybe I shouldn’t. My father said: Don’t give fear a voice. Don’t give it that power.”
Kayden reaches up and strokes my cheek. “Saying it to me is the same as thinking it to yourself and working through it. We all work through those things in our heads, Ella.”
“Even you?”
“You know I do. I know you know I do. Especially when it comes to other’s people’s safety. I’m protective of you and responsible for everyone who sees me as Hawk. This isn’t Paris the eve before an operation directly related to you, or even Paris on a normal day, where we always tread lighter. This is Rome, our operational center. Niccolo may own the city, sweetheart, but we own the core neighborhoods, where the real heart and soul rests. We own the heart and soul. And those people, those eyes and ears, are layers of protection and loyal followers, Hunters and otherwise. No one makes us afraid here, and that’s a message we send loud and clear in every action we take. We have people everywhere, and when I get back next week, I’m going to make sure you start meeting more than a small core group of Hunters.”
“I’d like that,” I say. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind sitting in while Matteo dispatches for a few days, to see how it all works.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” he says. “We’ll have him come over the next few days. You’ll get a feel for how deep our resources are before Saturday. And just as Evil Eye exists, there is ‘The Code,’ which is universal for all Underground operations. It’s meant to ensure Hunters are never Jackals. They’re a breed made of uncompromised morals and loyalty.”
“And that code is what?”
“There’s actually a book, but the bottom line for this conversation right now is: Loyalty and life above all else. You steal, you’re out. You betray us and that results in putting someone in danger, Hunter or civilian, you die. It’s brutal, but it’s the only way we keep order in a business this rogue and driven by money.”
I like that he’s included civilians in that code, but even more, I admire his passion as he speaks of life and loyalty. “Have you ever had to kill a Hunter?”
“Once. A massive payday was in play and the Hunter killed his partnering Hunter, a good man with two kids. I found our betrayer, ended him, and I have no regrets. And the money from that treasure went to that man’s family.”
“You kept none of it.”
“You know I don’t need the money, nor would I sleep at night had I kept it. More so, my people need to know they come first, to follow me. But the real moral of this story is that after that, there’s no one who questions my willingness to back that code up—and you, my Lady Hawk, are an extension of me. If you face anyone who dares threaten you or one of our own, or even a civilian, you deliver the message that code requires, and you do it with my support. Don’t hesitate because it’s someone you’ve sat across from and thought you trusted.”
My mind goes to my father’s bloody, lifeless body and my certainty that someone close to him stabbed him in the back before the bullets landed in his chest. “No hesitation,” I assure him.
“Then go shopping. Show the world that Lady Hawk is in the city and she owns it. The message to anyone Garner Neuville might have watching is that you’re so unconcerned about them, you’re shopping for lingerie for me. Feel free to actually do that, by the way.”
My lips curve. “Lingerie.”
“Yes. Think of the entire shopping experience as a final ‘fuck you’ to Garner Neuville before I put a bullet in his head.”
sixteen
On Thursday, Nathan heads to Milan to deal with Gallo, and Kayden spends much of the day in the War Room with Carlo, coordinating the aftermath of Alessandro’s rule, and then deciding to take Carlo to Paris with him. I sit on the opposite side of the War Room with Matteo, learning the ins and outs of dispatching, truly impressed with all the resources at our fingertips. Matteo manages the proces
s well, but it turns out Sasha was wrong about me pulling Kayden into the day-to-day operations. He’s already involved in them. Every action Matteo takes is fed directly to a console Kayden keeps live on his phone and iPad, and as I watch, he actually intervenes and declines a job Matteo intends to take.
Matteo’s reaction is similar to when I questioned him about security. He doesn’t like it, but of course Kayden can’t see this reaction, with the technology wall between them. And he thinks he hides it from me, but my father used to turn people into puzzles I had to solve. And while I understand having pride in your work, it rubs me wrong and I make a note to talk to Kayden about it.
However, when finally Kayden and I retreat to our private tower and sit down to a light dinner Marabella has left for us, his focus is wholly on the life-threatening mission ahead of him, and talking through plans and backup plans, rendering Matteo’s pride a less-than-important issue. My mental note made about Matteo, I am more than eager to help Kayden prepare for Neuville.
We’ve just finished eating when he finally gets a call from Nathan, who’s in Milan with Gallo. When the brief call ends he tells me, “Gallo accepted five million dollars to just go away.”
“You don’t seem pleased.”
“He took it too easily.”
My brow furrows. “It’s five million dollars, Kayden.”
“It’s a gut feeling, sweetheart.”
“Well, I hope it turns out to be nothing.”
“It won’t,” he says. “I feel it.” He reaches for his fork. “Let’s eat before I lose my appetite.”
We both dig in and it’s not long until we’re pushing aside the plates and he’s fixed me with a long stare. “What?” I ask.
He grabs the tube sitting next to him and pulls out a blueprint. “I’m going to ask you to do something uncomfortable.”
“What?”
“I have a blueprint of Neuville’s house, but I need to know what might be different. I need to know details that other people might not tell me or know.”