I can see him mulling over this revelation; he squints, like he’s trying to process, and delight swims through my veins at the thought that I’ve pulled it off.
That I duped a man known for his cunning, methodical nature, even if the only reason is that he was too distracted by his new wife to pay me much attention.
I’ll take any wins I can get.
Finally, Kal looks up, pocketing the flash drive, and he leans back in his chair, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee. Propping his elbow on that knee, he strokes his stubbly jaw, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“Why?”
It’s all he says, a single syllable uttered so simply, that it takes me by surprise.
I wasn’t really expecting to have to explain myself, although I suppose it makes sense. Leave it to the doctor to want to learn the symptoms of the disease that’s been plaguing him.
Swallowing, I push my shoulders back, slip my feet from the desk, and sit up. “I could ask my brother, but you specialize in secrecy, right? Well, I did something… bad, and I need to disappear.”
“Disappear,” he repeats, that same monotone voice sending chills down my spine. “You’ve tormented me, violated my privacy, and yet you’re asking for my assistance? Either you’re very brave, or very stupid.”
“I like to think I’m a fun mixture of both.”
Flipping the lapel of his suit jacket back, Kal removes a pistol and slides it against his knee. His eyes don’t leave mine, and his fingers don’t leave the trigger, training the mouth of the gun right on me.
Fear percolates in my stomach, almost propelling me from my chair, but I dig my fingernails into my palms, forcing myself not to react.
It’s what he wants—a reaction. Proof of my inferiority, as though I haven’t managed to trick him.
Kal isn’t the kind of man who gets tricked often, so it’s not surprising that he isn’t taking it well.
Still, I don’t bite the bait.
“Boyd will fire you as a client if you get blood on his carpet,” I say, glancing at the ticking clock hanging on the gray wall, wondering how long I have before my brother returns.
Kal smirks. “I’ve already seen your blood, Ms. Kelly. I have no intention of drawing it today.”
A shiver coasts over my skin, a memory flashing across my vision; the feeling of being carried, my body freezing as it’s jostled in someone’s sturdy arms. The smell of clean whiskey, nothing stale or repulsive like my mother’s boyfriend’s.
Dark eyes, soothing me as I drift in and out of consciousness. Hands showing mercy, healing when I know what they’re capable of.
There’s a certain level of trust you put in the person who saved your life. Maybe that’s why I called Kal.
I trust my brother, but Dr. Anderson yields results.
He pulls a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his coat and wipes the barrel of the gun, tilting his head as he inspects it. I can’t help wondering if maybe he’s just come from a “job,” and he’s cleaning the remnants off.
“The help I can offer…” His lips twist, and he pauses, eyes lost in thought. Those pupils dilate, then return to their normal size as he looks at me. “It’s a permanent kind, you know. The secrecy, the privacy. What you’re asking is possible, but it requires a certain amount of dedication.”
My heart pinches, but I nod anyway. “I know. That’s… that’s why I came to you.”
“I’m sure your brother is fully capable of giving you the same thing.”
“I don’t want him involved,” I say, my throat tightening around the words. “Not in this.”
Partly because it feels safer, but also because I don’t want to see the look in his eyes when I admit what my plan is. Don’t want him to try and talk me out of things, or convince me not to go through with it.
And if I stay, beyond the simple fact of my safety being at risk, I’ll never stop lamenting my night in New York. The girl I left behind there, on a park bench with the world’s hottest rock star.
After weeks of mourning her, I’m done.
I want to move on.
He’s quiet for a long time, seeming to consider my acquiescence. “Why not just ask? Why go through all the trouble of harassing me?”
“Insurance.” One word all men in the Mafia understand.
Something my mother understood, too.
You never, ever, do something unless you have a way to back it up.
Clasping his hands together, Kal nods once, then pushes to his feet.
“Okay, then. Let’s kill Riley Kelly.”
16
Pinching my pick between my fingers, I drag the triangular tip over the strings on my bass, letting the sound reverberate against my bones.
Once upon a time, that somber tune would’ve been enough to get me out of a funk, but now, all it does is amplify the hollow feeling resonating in my chest.
I pluck absently, leaning my head back against my mattress. I’m sitting on the floor of my bedroom, shrouded by darkness. Only a sliver of light shines through a crack in the closet door, which I leave partially open now that no one bothers coming around anymore.
Callie comes, but I know it’s only to make sure I haven’t jumped off the balcony. She never says anything, just peeks in, lets her disgust fill the room, and then leaves.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered jumping.
My fingers lift to the scars on my wrist, the only evidence of former attempts hidden beneath a myriad of colors.
Liam visits every couple of days, as well, staying the longest. He lounges on the sofa at the foot of the bed, playing video games on the television mounted on the far wall and keeping me up to date on the happenings within our inner circle.
My father hasn’t been back, having gone home to my ex in LA. He says he’s doing damage control, working out a plan, but frankly, I’m just glad he’s staying away.
I can feel his irritation from across the country.
Even though he knows I haven’t done anything, I’ve still brought shame to the James name, and that’s practically grounds for excommunication in his eyes.
In any case, I’m trying to find a shred of peace in the solitude.