I opened the envelope slowly, barely feeling the sharp sting of a paper cut smearing a drop of blood across the top of it.
Inside was one folded sheet of paper. I opened it, not sure what I expected, what I hoped for, and I read it without feeling a thing even as my whole body seemed to shake.
Lily,
If you’re reading this then you’re doing what I hoped you wouldn’t. Even though I know you can’t help being who you are, the rebellious, strong, frustrating bad girl, you still shouldn’t have come. If I were there with you now, you’d be getting more of what hung on that wall in your room at the cabin. I’ll leave it at that just in case Alejandra took a peek at this. I don’t think she will though. She’s a good woman.
What happened — it was wrong. Even though we felt something, it was wrong. We both know it. But I’m not sorry I did it. I’m not sorry I met you. And I’m not sorry I saved you.
I’m going to save you one more time though, and this time it’s saving your life in more ways than one. Leave me, leave the memories. Let them lie. What you think you want isn’t what you’d find. Let time swallow me up, erase me from your mind, free you from what cannot be.
Lake
* * *
It had been three days since I read that letter, and I still shivered at the memory of it, my hands growing cold, my chest feeling tight, my belly heavy. Lake was gone. It was finished. I wouldn’t try to find him again. He didn’t want me to. But I’d still do this one thing for him, even if he never knew I did it.
Although I was now back in New York, it no longer felt like home. It was like that life before, my life I’d been so attached to, was so far away, it wasn’t even real anymore, and I didn’t miss it. I packed the last of my things into my suitcase but left the bag in my hotel room. It wasn’t quite five-thirty in the morning. I would have time to return before my flight back to France. Slipping on my heavy coat, I picked up the small pistol I’d set on the dresser and tucked it into my pocket, knowing that if I needed to, I would use it, that knowledge scaring me a little.
But I knew the kind of man I was dealing with. DeSalvo wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me if he thought he could get away with it. I needed the reassurance of the weapon in my pocket until I convinced him hurting me would be a bad idea.
Checking my watch, I pulled a tight wool hat over my head and left the hotel. It would take me half an hour to walk to our meeting point, a public street that would offer just enough protection for me to deliver my message. I kept my hands in my pockets as I walked, the thick envelope on one side, the pistol on the other.
I was first to arrive at the meeting point, or so I thought until DeSalvo walked out of the small café on the corner sipping a coffee and holding a second one, looking too relaxed for my comfort. I’d hoped to beat him there. I was still early. But I should have known better with a man like him.
“Ms. Cross,” he said when I neared. “I got you a coffee.” He held the second cup out to me, the gesture catching me by surprise, which I knew was exactly what he wanted.
When I’d contacted DeSalvo, he’d been, for at least one tiny moment, caught off guard himself. I’d told him I wanted to meet, had given him some idea of what it would cost him if he didn’t come alone, and hoped he had believed me, but I realized now that I could have been wrong. He could have men stationed all around. I’d been naive. He seemed too calm, too collected, too confident. I needed to shake that confidence, and fast.
“No, thank you,” I said.
“Suit yourself,” he said, setting the cup on a high windowsill.
I noticed then the black leather gloves he wore, the same ones he’d put on that night while I’d watched. It made me shiver, but I fisted my sweaty hand around the pistol in my pocket and forced myself to breathe.
“Randall will be pleased to know you’re back in town.”
“I bet he would be, except he’s not going to find out.”
“And why would that be? Certainly you’re not naive enough to think just because he’s behind bars the organization has been wiped out.”
“No, not that naïve,” I said. “I grew up a part of that organization, remember. I am my father’s daughter. Underestimating me would be a mistake.” I paused, letting my words sink in, knowing he didn’t really see me as a threat. Not yet. “I know what you would have done to me. I know what kind of man you are.”
He didn’t seem at all ruffled by that. In fact, he checked his watch and sipped his coffee, his posture relaxed. “Get to the point, Ms. Cross. It’s cold out here.”
“You’re here, DeSalvo. It means you know I’m a threat to you.”
He chuckled at that, the coffee sloshing out of the side of the cup with the movement. “Hardly. I figured if you had the balls to actually show up, well, then I’d—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I said, my lips curling in my dislike of this man. I wanted this over. I wanted to get as far away from DeSalvo as I could. And I needed to make sure he stayed away from both me and Lake.
I pulled the envelope out of my pocket and held it out without quite offering it to him. A small twitch of his eye when he saw it told me he wasn’t as confident as he was trying to make me believe, and that bit of knowledge strengthened me.
“I want you to know, first of all, that should anything happen to me, any strange sort of accident, I have a letter waiting to go out to the authorities as well as to your superiors detailing exactly what happened the night of my disappearance, telling them who you moonlight for, who pays into that bank account of yours in Moscow.” I hadn’t wasted the last year. I’d been doing my homework and dug up as much dirt as I could on DeSalvo. I had enough to put him away, but jail wasn’t where I wanted him. I only needed him to know the power I held over him.
Now I offered the envelope to him. “This copy is for you, in case you’d like to have a look.”
He took it, his eyes on mine until I let it go. When he opened the flap to look inside, I had him. I knew it.
He turned back at me, his gaze flat and cold. “What do you want?”
“I want a lot of things, but I’ll settle for one from you: stop your search for Lake. Forget about him, forget he exists.”
His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side, studying me, leaving my confidence of a few moments ago on the verge of evaporating. “My business with Lake Freeman is between him and me. You worry about your own pretty little self. I have nothing with you. I didn’t even see you here today, in fact.”
“Not enough. Leave Lake alone. Stop searching for him, and you’ll get to stay out of jail. Unless you miss your buddy Randall, that is.”
His grin unnerved me. This meeting needed to be over, and fast.
“You found him, didn’t you?”
I tried to keep my expression neutral, but my reaction to his comment was physical.
“Do we have an agreement?” I asked. “Or should I”—I reached into my purse and pulled out a duplicate envelope, this one stamped and ready to be mailed—”drop this at the post office a few doors down?”
His expression hardened. “You wouldn’t.”
“Why wouldn’t I? What have I got to lose?”
He studied me, but this time, I was able to keep my calm. I had the upper hand, and we both knew it.
“That’s fine, Ms. Cross,” he said, dumping the rest of his coffee onto the street, some of the cooling liquid splashing onto his shoes. He then crushed the paper cup before tossing it too. “As far as you and Freeman are concerned, we have no more business together.”
I smiled while he tucked the envelope into his pocket, all the while my heart racing.
“You shouldn’t litter,” I said, gesturing toward the cup on the street.
He looked pissed, and I couldn’t say I didn’t like it.
“Good-bye, Ms. Cross.”
“Good-bye, DeSalvo.”
By the time I’d said it, he was too far away to hear.
Chapter 20
He grew very still at the sound of the lock tumblers moving.
Sitting in her living room, cloaked in shadow, he’d waited, every second wondering why the fuck he’d done this — and knowing there was nothing else he could’ve done. Not anymore.
She stepped in, snapping on the foyer light, warm illumination showing the softness of her hair, her face every bit as beautiful as the one he’d seen every night in his dreams. Unwrapping the burgundy scarf from her long, slim neck, she turned to close the door and threw the deadbolt.
“Hello, Lily.”
She froze, her back to him, the thin leather strap of her purse a diagonal line down one shoulder of the form-fitting black coat. Her hand eased down to her purse. She was careful to keep it in front of her, but he knew what she was doing. It made him smile.
Lily spun on him, the pistol trained toward the sound of his voice, though she’d have shot over his shoulder if she’d fired.
“Get your hands up and show yourself.” Her voice was firm but tense. She was scared, but that steel he so admired was still there. Good.
“You need to aim that about eight inches to your left.”
The black barrel instantly moved to him.
“That’s better.”