We were supposed to play it by ear. If MM and his arrogant friend left Danvers, we wouldn’t go through with the date. But after I did my jobs that day, Brad texted me that shady characters were in the town. A group of ten, including MM and his friend, were spotted having a late lunch at the Danvers diner.
According to Brad, a couple of the waitresses swooned over their table. I didn’t know why that irritated me. Brad had no clue where they were staying. None of his friends had information.
“They paid in cash at the coffee shop,” Brad said. Twirling the pad thai around his fork before taking a bite. “So I didn’t get their names. They also paid cash at the diner. That bothers me. You’re right to be wary of them. Are you sure you hadn’t seen the Maserati guy until yesterday?”
“He doesn’t look familiar at all.” I wasn’t totally honest. Physically, they didn’t ring a bell, but I couldn’t trust my feelings of doom either, especially with what little history I had with my past. I dug into my own spicy noodle dish. We were at a trendy Thai restaurant in a strip mall near Grafton.
“Well, I’m glad I pressed you on what’s going on,” my date said. He was out of his usual tee or flannel, and he was wearing a checkered button-down shirt. I was in a sleeveless gossamer blouse, cream pants, and heels. It was my only decent date outfit.
“I don’t want to get you involved.”
“I’m already involved,” he said. “I remember the first time I saw you come into the coffee shop. You tried to hide the bruising on your face and you had a wrist splint. I wanted to hunt down the bastard who did that to you.”
It wasn’t a secret that I left an abusive relationship. It wasn’t a secret that I might be hiding from an ex-boyfriend. What was a secret was I had amnesia. I hadn’t slipped so far. It was so easy not to answer questions about parents or siblings or where I grew up because people shut up when they found out I grew up in foster care.
“You know,” he said, smiling. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they were mesmerized by your stunning face. I sure was.”
I was used to flattery from Brad, but I still blushed, especially when we were on a date. Well, this time it was a fake date. We’d gone out three times until I finally decided it wasn’t working.
“So you bumped into him the other day, and today he walks into my coffee shop with his wingman.” Brad refilled my wineglass.
“His obnoxious wingman, jeez.” I sipped my wine. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”
“You defended me, sweetheart. I’m sorry you had to deal with that too.”
“But it was my fault.”
“Hey—I’m here. No one’s going to get to you. Now let’s forget about these assholes and enjoy our dinner. Fake or not, I’m running with it.”
He gave me a boyish grin that should have made any woman’s heart flutter. Why couldn’t I fall in love with this man? He was the all-American boy next door. Blond, blue eyed, tanned. A golden god. No wonder the women in Danvers hated me.
But maybe…my heart was in a deep freeze and all it needed was a patient man. A patient man like Brad.
It was almost six months ago when I shut him down cold because I felt nothing, but maybe…
There were times our conversations were awkward, but it was because I was hiding so many things. But judging how he was willing to take on my problems, maybe Doc Gleason was right. I should give him a chance.
After dinner, Brad drove past our town on I-90. It was a beautiful night, but I had a feeling it was because he didn’t want it to end.
“How about you make me your coffee glace?”
He glanced briefly at me, but I saw the flash of white teeth. “I see why you turned down dessert at the restaurant.”
“They didn’t have the sticky rice.” I pouted. “And I didn’t want to waste calories on fried ice cream.”
“You can afford it.”
“And you’re so diplomatic.”
“Seriously, Rayne, you don’t have to worry about calories.”
“Says the man who runs every night.”
“My body is used to it.” We talked about sports and how he got a football scholarship for college. “But really, I just wanted to live in a small town and open a coffee shop.”
It might have been my imagination, but the car sped up and we got into town in no time. Well, I hope he wasn’t expecting sex, but maybe the coffee ice cream would be enough foreplay. I didn’t know if the twisting in the pit of my stomach was anxiety or excitement.
He parked in the back alley of Nature Java. It was dimly lit. My anxiety skyrocketed. Again, I wasn’t sure if it was from what I was about to do with Brad, or from MM and his cohorts. Were they lurking in the shadows? I’d been listening to too many true crime podcasts.
Brad came around to my side and opened the door. I hopped out, but before I could take another step, I was pinned to the vehicle and his mouth was on mine. His tongue teased the seam of my mouth, and I let him in. He groaned and crushed my body against the vehicle.
I tried to feel something.
It was…nice.
My hands pushed against his chest.
He was panting hard. “Sorry, but I thought if they were watching, they’d get the message.”
I shook my head and breathed a brief laugh. “I couldn’t fault you for going above and beyond.”
“Honestly, I’ve been dying to do that for a while. Have I lost my chance of offering you dessert?”
I sidestepped him and tugged at his hand, leading him to the back entrance of the coffee shop. “No way am I letting you deny me dessert.”
Thirty minutes later, I was buzzed from sugar and caffeine. “I don’t know how I’m going to sleep tonight.”
“How about we stream a movie at my place?” he asked.
He raised both hands. “Just friends. We sit on the couch. Unless you make the first move, I’m not touching you.”
I regarded him.
He raised an open palm in a swear. “Scout’s honor. And I was really a Boy Scout.”
I had to laugh at that. “Well, lead the way, and oh, one thing. I’m choosing the movie.”
“Anything you say, sweetheart.”
I’d known Brad for two years, and never did I doubt that he was going to do anything I didn’t want. That eased my anxiety a little. He wasn’t expecting any fooling around to happen. And he was sober, too. He had wine at the restaurant and that was it.
The stairs leading to his apartment were in the kitchen. They made creaking noises that were typical of the buildings in this town.
At the top of the stairs, his whole body froze, and he mumbled fuck.
“What’s wrong?” And that was when I saw it. The door was open.
“Let’s go.”
We turned to hurry down the stairs but stopped when MM and another person stood there.
“Oh my God,” I croaked.
The door to Brad’s apartment creaked open, making us spin around.
The asshole from the coffee shop emerged. “Nice of you to join us.”
He had a gun pointed at us.
Luca
I had learned self-control over the years. They had crucified me as a wildcard for one incident.
One.
Okay, maybe several.
The blond oaf shielded Natalya. My index finger stroked the barrel. It would be so easy to slip and pull the trigger.
“Get inside.” I waved the gun and stepped aside. “Don’t try anything.”
Brad scowled at me. I’d give him credit for not pissing in his pants. Seeing how Natalya clung to his arm tested my composure. Earlier, all I wanted to do was kidnap my wife from her apartment and take off with her, but there would be too many unanswered questions, questions that could only be answered by patience and witnessing their interaction. However, Dario felt I might forget all self-control and cause a scene in public like I almost did at the coffee shop. Scenes all crime families wanted to avoid in the age of smartphones. So I had a man follow them and send me updates of their date. While I seethed and simmered with the images being reported back from the restaurant, I rifled through Natalya’s and Brad’s apartments to find clues of her life in this small town and evidence of their relationship.
Watching him kiss her made me want to set this prick on fire. I listened at the top of the stairs like a pathetic stalker to their laughter and conversation while they ate dessert but I finally had confirmation that they were just friends.
Brad wanted them to be more.
I could kill him for touching her and not lose sleep over it, but something still wasn’t adding up. Natalya looked at me like I was an annoying ant she wanted to squash under her shoe. I knew my wife’s every expression, every mannerism, and every tell, but this woman in front of me showed very little of what was familiar.
Dario and Tony walked in and closed the door.
Dario whispered in my ear, “Rocco found the doctor. He’s taking him to another location.”
“What do you want from us?” Natalya asked.
There was defiance in her voice, but also fear. And I hated that she was afraid of me.
“You,” I told her.
“Please tell me this isn’t about the pie,” Brad groaned.
“What you’ve done is far worse than fucking pie.” My voice was steady, my insides were not. My blood was on a simmer. “Tie him to the chair. Let’s see how—”
“You’re so brave with your thugs and gun,” Brad spat. “If you want Rayne, why don’t we fight it out like real men, huh?”
“Brad…” Natalya grabbed his arm. “Don’t—”
“I will not let them tie me up,” he told her. “And let them do what they please with you? Fuck that.”
“I don’t like what you’re insinuating,” I growled at him.
“No? Then shoot me. I’m not going to let you tie me up.”
Guilt and unworthiness stabbed me in the chest. I recognized chivalry, and I didn’t know what to do with this realization. Was he so in love with my wife that he was willing to die for her? Was this the romance hero she was forever looking for in me?
I handed my gun to Tony. “Hold it. Don’t interfere.”
“Boss, I don’t think—” Tony said when he didn’t lift his hand to take it.
“Did. I. Stutter?”
Reluctantly, he accepted the weapon. I shed my suit and rolled up my sleeves.
Natalya’s eyes were darting between me and her blond companion. He was grinning at me like he couldn’t wait to turn me into mincemeat.
He was two inches shorter, but he clearly fed on protein shakes along with his coffee and outweighed me by twenty, thirty pounds.
I cocked my elbows and called him over with my hands.
Without warning, he launched his shoulder into my gut. We crashed to the floor and he immediately punched me across my face.
Motherfucker.
“That all you got?” I grinned even when I tasted copper.
He slugged me again. I was the idiot who welcomed the pain of wanting him to fuel my fury. Before he could get a third hit, I locked my hands between us and shoved them against his torso. He rose on his knees and I had him against my thighs. I lifted my hips, threw him over, and sprang to my feet.
He rolled quickly to his knees, but I spun and back-kicked him across his cheek.
“Brad!” Natalya cried, coming forward.
“Hold her back!” I ordered.
Brad staggered to his feet and shook his head. He took on a boxing stance. More alert. He was bleeding from his mouth.
We came at each other and exchanged blows. I was mostly dodging his jabs, and getting in mine and wearing him out.
He kissed my fucking wife. I hit him again and again until he was lumbering like a drunk.
“Enough, please,” Natalya cried.
I glared at Natalya. “This is for you.”
I grabbed Brad’s arm and used my hip to flip him over, sending him crashing onto his coffee table.
I was sweaty, still riled up, and pissed that I messed up my pristine dress shirt with blood that wasn’t mine.
“Sit his ass in that chair.”
Brad’s face was showing signs of swelling. He’d be lucky to see through both eyes tomorrow. I grabbed a fistful of his blond hair and leaned in. “It’s not your bulk, you prick. May I suggest jujitsu lessons?”
“Fuck you.” He spat in my face. He just signed his death sentence.
I straightened. Tony scrambled to hand me a paper towel. I wiped the gunk off my face without taking my eyes off the blond.
“That was a bad idea. I was going to let you live.” I admired his chivalry, but he had no self-preservation.
I looked at Dario. His face told the entire story that was streaming through my head.
Kill the idiot, burn down the coffee shop.
“Give me the gun.”
Tony handed me the nine-millimeter and suppressor.
“No!” Natalya cried. Her face was several shades of red from all her crying. Her lips were swollen and they reminded me that the bastard kissed her.
“Brad is innocent. He doesn’t know…”
“That he kissed a married woman?” I spun on them both while I screwed on the silencer. She was on her knees in front of Brad and I toyed with the idea of shooting them both. But no, I couldn’t kill the mother of my son in cold blood even if she cheated on me.
“What?” Natalya’s expression was one I remembered now. One of guilt and incredulity.
“What?” Brad echoed. “What’s he saying, Rayne?”
“You’re a good actress. I’ll give you that. You fooled even me. But these tears…I remember them.”
“I wasn’t married to the bastard,” she continued sobbing. “Whoever sent you to kill me? I wasn’t married to him.”
Dario stepped forward and touched my arm that held the gun. “What are you talking about?” he voiced the question in my head. I felt something other than fury.
Confusion.
“She’s talking about the asshole who beat her up and broke her wrist!” Brad tried to get up, but my reflexes weren’t connected to my head and my gun lifted over Rayne’s head pointing at him. He must had seen something in my eyes because he dropped back to his seat.
She put herself in front of my gun.
And that brought about another round of damned emotions that excavated the organ that was in my chest. Take my black heart and stomp it under your shoes, will you, Natalya? “You would die for him?” Dark thoughts vomited from my head.
Shoot him.
Shoot her.
Turn the gun on myself.
No. What about Elias?
Reclaim my wife.
Throw her over my shoulder and ask questions later.
Wait.
Who beat her?
Who broke her wrist?
I’ll kill them.
“Brad’s innocent.” Her voice was as ragged as the million questions trying to form in my head. “He doesn’t know I have amnesia.”
Her last statement was a physical blow to my solar plexus. I staggered back, gun lowering to my side. Blood pounded in my ears, and yet I was feeling light-headed, like I’d been drained of every last drop.
“That explains a lot.” Dario’s voice came to me from afar.
The surprised expression on Brad’s face was comical, if not believable. “Rayne?”
“You’re lying.” There was no conviction in my voice. It didn’t even sound like me. My mind grappled for logic. “You remember your way around the computer.”
“Semantic memory. Doc Gleason—”
“Enough!” I snapped. I turned to Tony. “We need answers from the doctor.”
“There appears to be many things I don’t know.” I dragged her toward me and away from Brad. I inhaled sharply at the contact, closing my eyes briefly. The first time in two years since I held her this close. I wouldn’t be letting her go again. Tralestelle would be her prison and she would live there with me and Elias for the rest of her life. “If I find out you’re lying to me, tesoro, I’m going to burn down this entire town for hiding you from me.”
“From you? I thought…”
“Yes…from me.”
“You don’t look like an online bookie.”
Despite the tense situation, Dario breathed a short laugh. I didn’t find it amusing. Because if what she said was true, someone took great pains to hide Natalya from me.
I stared at her, still baffled by the whole situation, but amnesia explained a lot. If it wasn’t a convenient excuse not to kill Loverboy. I could use him to keep her in line. “No, I don’t.”
“Who are you?” she whispered. Her eyes still expressed fear, but there was also curiosity and something else.
I decided to play the game a while longer. “You’ll find out soon enough.” I glanced at Tony. “Tie him up. I’ll call. And then we can decide whether to kill him or burn this whole place down, or both.”
“You’re a monster,” Natalya sobbed.
But I’m your monster, tesoro. I grabbed her arm and hauled her beside me. Time to visit the doctor.
