My eyes went back to the shelves, where the bottles of liquor sat. He had a backup of everything except Maker’s Mark. I doubted he even did his own shopping, most of the time. He probably just made a list.
“Who stocks you up? Do you do your own shopping?” I asked.
His eyes went to the bottles. If there was one thing Fate was not, it was stupid.
“I told you, I’ll get you more Maker’s Mark.” His arms crossed in front of his chest.
“Do you have a list you give someone?”
He shrugged, which I interpreted as a silent yes.
I scanned the extensive inventory until I laid eyes on the brand of wine Crow drank. It was maybe five dollars a bottle, but he loved it. Would drink nothing else.
“How often does Crow come by?” I asked, but he shrugged off the question. I knew why he wouldn’t answer. I’d never seen him even talk to Crow since I’d been at the office and yet there was his wine.
It was the birthday party all over again. I couldn’t have a slice of cake then, and I couldn’t have a drink now.
I hadn’t made the most basic list in his life, let alone the important ones. He’d stood by me last night; he’d gone against Malokin, an unknown risk, but yet, on some instinctive level, he was still resisting having me around.
“Why do you care? You don’t want me to go, but you certainly don’t want me to stay, either.” He didn’t answer, and that’s when it really hit me. I was waiting for him to tell me he cared about me. I wanted him to deny what I was saying was true, but he wasn’t saying anything. He couldn’t answer.
I shook my head and went to leave the garage, but his arm went across my shoulders and stopped me. I didn’t fight against him, but my pride kept me from looking at him.
“Just because I think you’d be better off away from here doesn’t mean anything.” His words were stiff, as if he were fighting to get them out. “It has nothing to do with what I want. It’s just what’s best, considering the situation.”
“This conversation is over.”
He didn’t move his arm, but I broke his grasp easily as I moved toward the door. I’d finally found one confrontation that Fate wasn’t prepared to have.
Chapter 35
You make my blood boil.
The building Malokin had agreed to meet me at was a high-rise in the middle of Los Angeles. The street was busy with cars, and I waited for an opening to cross. I knew two distinctly different audiences, both with differing goals in mind, were watching every step I took.
Paddy, Fate, and his men, were stationed all around. They had eyes trained on the windows of the suite Malokin was in, from every possible angle. Once I had knowledge of Kitty’s presence, I’d stand in front of those windows and signal. If I didn’t within fifteen minutes, they’d come anyway. That was the plan.
It was pretty simple; not too many things that could go wrong. Unless you thought about the fact that a cut across the carotid artery would incapacitate me in less than a minute, and kill me in under three.
“Miss?” the doorman asked, holding the door—which might very well lead to my death—open.
I nodded and stepped forward. “Thank you.”
The lobby was a blur, and I only had eyes for the elevator, waiting at the far end of the grand entrance. He was on the top floor, but I would’ve known that without being told. Nothing but the penthouse suite would do for Malokin to vent his sadistic nature. Malokin hid his nature better than Luke, but it was there just the same.
Every step felt like I was waiting for a trap. The elevator doors slid shut and I expected it to plummet. When they opened, I waited for someone to be there with a gun to shoot me as I stepped toward the suite. Encountering no one wasn’t doing much for my unease. If anything, it might have heightened it. I was prepared for a fight, with all the accompanying adrenaline, but had yet to find my target.
I rapped once on the suite door, and Malokin’s voice called for me to come in. Not bothering to rise, he was seated by the large windows, smoking a cigar in the beautiful baroque-style room, completely alone.
As I walked toward him, I surveyed the place with the image of my death in mind. It was pristine, and had a plush carpet to lie upon, if I did end up upon it. As far as places to die went—or floors, in this case—it wasn’t the worst.
My possible murderer’s eyes didn’t leave me as I made my way closer to him. All the dread I’d felt on my way here was becoming secondary to a certain strange satisfaction. This was the first time I’d met with him in recent times that he didn’t know my every movement of the last twenty-four hours. He didn’t have every word catalogued, along with other more personal situations no one had a right to eavesdrop on. If this was to be my last day, at least it was a free one.
“Have a seat,” he said, motioning to the set of chairs I’d stopped behind.
“No. I’ll stand.”
It was such a simple statement but not between us. The act of refusing to sit was claiming my independence back. It was a polite “fuck you,” and he knew it, evidenced by the twitch in his eye.
“I would’ve had you.” After he spoke, his jaw shifted slightly to the right and then back. This was the most agitated I’d ever seen him. Actually, I wasn’t sure I’d seen him riled until this moment, and it was another salve to my agitation. Was my possible death worth the admission? No, probably not. But I wasn’t dead yet.
I placed my hands on the back of the chair in front of me and leaned forward slightly. “But you don’t have me,” I said, in a voice just above a whisper but in no ways weak.
“If you weren’t helped, I would’ve been able to do anything I wanted to you, eventually. You were pathetic.” He puffed on his cigar as he stood.
“Am I supposed to feel shame about that? Just so we’re clear, I don’t.” It was one of the few things that didn’t bother me. In fact, the only thing that was running through my mind was, if I got the opportunity, was I physically capable of killing him right now? If Kitty was dead, I wasn’t walking out of here without trying. His life would end today, if I had any say in the matter.
“Nothing’s changed. I still have her.” His eyes were glued to me as I tried to remain stoic after this revelation. Malokin knew what those words did to me. Making me cling to hope. I couldn’t turn back the clock and undo the things she and I had both seen and been put through, but sometimes just surviving had to be enough. Still, there was no going back. I felt it in myself and I saw it in Malokin.
“And yet…I think it has. How long would you like to play this game? Why are you really meeting me? Whatever you want to call this sick relationship we had between us, we both know it’s over.” I could repeat those words a thousand more times and not feel tired of them.
I choked on the smoke from the cigar he puffed on as he took a moment. Not because he needed time, I was sure, but because he wanted to toy with me.
His eyes roved over me and not in appreciation. “However they managed to cut you off, they were thorough.”
“So you thought you could undo what was done?” I was more conscious than ever of the warmth that still radiated out from the tattoo.
“Yes. Perhaps. Now I see this was a waste of time.” He shrugged, as if it weren’t any real loss, even though I suspected he felt otherwise. After all, he’d hunted me for generations for a reason.
“What about Kitty?” he had no need to keep her alive now, let alone allow me to see her.
“She’s right in there.” He nodded to the double doors that looked like they led to a bedroom.
“What’s the catch?” My hands gripped the chair, forcing myself to not burst toward her direction.
He set his cigar down on the ashtray and turned so he stood facing me directly. “You’ve got two options. You can take your shot at me, or you can leave with her.”