Crazy Beautiful Forever (Dirty Twisted Love #3) (3 page)

C
lay turned back to Harley
, touching his finger to his lips before motioning for her to wait on the balcony while he checked out the apartment.

He moved soundlessly into the space, taking in a drab, masculine-looking couch parked before an old-fashioned box TV. Staying close to the walls, he made his way into a sparsely decorated kitchen with a card table shoved in one corner and dirty dishes sitting in the sink before easing down a dim hallway toward what he guessed were the bedrooms.

He passed a darkened bathroom—more masculine smells, probably a bachelor in residence—and a linen closet before coming to the end of the hall, where two open doors revealed a small office on the left and an almost equally cramped bedroom on the right. Both were empty.

He turned back to fetch Harley from the balcony, not surprised to see her already padding down the hall behind him.

“I told you to stay put,” he tossed over his shoulder as he moved into the dimly lit bedroom, hoping the man who lived here wore a size twelve. He could get away with running through town in his pajamas—he’d seen college kids wearing similar clothing as they shuffled in and out of the coffee shops yesterday—but he had to have shoes.

“Fuck you,” Harley whispered as he slid open the wooden door to the stranger’s closet. “See if this guy has a gun or anything else we can use as a weapon. If we run into Marlowe’s people on the way out, they’ll shoot first and ask questions never.”

“No guns that I can see.” Clay pulled out a pair of size eleven tennis shoes—close enough—along with jeans that looked about his size. “There are a couple of hockey sticks shoved in the back, but that’s it.”

“I’ll look in the hall closet.” Harley started out of the room, but Clay called after her—

“One gun isn’t going to do us any good against five or more of Marlowe’s men. Our best chance is to slip by them unnoticed. Here, try this hat on.” He grabbed a faded black ball cap from the top shelf and tossed it her way as he shoved his pajama pants to the ground and stepped into the stiff jeans. They felt like they’d been line dried and practically stood up by themselves, but they reached all the way to his ankles.

“You don’t call the shots anymore,” Harley said though she snatched the cap from the ground. “Thanks to your brilliant planning, Jasper was kidnapped.”

Clay stripped his sweat-stained tee shirt off and exchanged it for a gray sweatshirt. “If Jasper and I hadn’t been up on the roof, we would have been in our beds when Marlowe showed up, just like you were. We wouldn’t have had a chance.” He snagged a ball cap for himself before he turned to her, the fact that she wasn’t in her pajamas penetrating for the first time.

“I wasn’t in bed.” Rage sharpened her features as she stuffed her hair beneath the ball cap. “I was on my way to the airport to stop you from taking Jasper when I saw Liam and Marlowe by the bakery. I hid, trying to figure out what to do next. That’s when I saw the helicopter and put two and two together.”

Her fingers moved to the front of her jean jacket, doing up the buttons, concealing the lace tee shirt beneath. “I ran as fast as I could, trying to get to the roof in time to warn you, but the door was locked. I had to pick the lock. By the time I made it out, it was too late.”

Clay finished tying the too tight shoes and shoved his pajama pants and tee shirt to the back of the closet. If this guy was like most confirmed bachelors, he wouldn’t notice that his second best pair of sneakers was missing—or that he had someone else’s dirty clothes in his closet—until long after Clay and Harley had left the country.

“I fucked up,” he said softly, meeting her gaze across the rumpled beige bedspread. “But I was on my way down to the apartment to get you when Marlowe shot the door open. I wasn’t going to leave you behind.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped, eyes shining. “You are a liar and I will never trust you again. Never.”

“We don’t have time to argue right now,” he said. “But I’m not lying. You can ask Jasper when he’s back with us. We were on our way to wake you up so we could all take a helicopter ride.” He swallowed, fighting a wave of emotion. “He was so excited.”

“I’m sure he’s not excited now,” Harley said, swiping her tears from her cheeks with shaking hands. “I’m sure he’s scared out of his mind and I’m holding you accountable for every second that he suffers. And if he doesn’t come back to me—” Her words ended in a choked sound as she fought to swallow.

“He’s coming back,” Clay said. “Two agents are on Marlowe’s tail right now. They’ll be waiting to take him into custody the second he touches down.”

“If he doesn’t come back,” Harley continued, ignoring his assurances, “then I will kill you. I will watch you bleed out and not shed a single fucking tear. Do you understand me?”

Clay’s eyes narrowed. “We need to go. Now.”

“I wasn’t lying last night.” The stone cold expression on her face made it clear that the Harley who knew vengeance as intimately as any lover was alive and well inside the softer, kinder person she’d become. “I will always love you—I wouldn’t have jumped off of a roof to try to save your life if that wasn’t true—but I love Jasper more. He is
everything
. If you’ve destroyed him, then you will have destroyed me, too, and I will take you out on my way to hell. And I won’t fail the way Liam did.”

Clay leaned closer, speaking his next words inches from her lips. “If Jasper is dead, I’ll kill myself and save you the trouble, okay?” His jaw clenched. “Now get behind me. I’m taking point. Do what I say to do, when I say to do it, and when I get you to the safe house alive, you can start giving me shit again.”

Her lips parted, but he silenced her with his hands on her face, his fingers digging into her jaw as he pulled her closer.

“I love you,” he whispered fiercely. “I love you and I love our son and I don’t want either of you to die. So please just shut up and let me do my job before Marlowe’s men figure out where that balcony lets out and are there to meet us in the hall when we step outside.”

Her eyes tightened around the edges and her lips pursed into an angry, uneven line, but she kept her silence.

At this point, it was the best he could hope for. What he’d done was nothing that words could fix. Actions might not help, either, but at least they could keep her safe so that she was there to hug Jasper when they brought him home.

T
he elevator stopped
on the third floor and Harley followed Clay down a long, quiet hallway to a hazy window overlooking the alley she’d fled down this morning.

This morning, when she’d still thought there was a chance for her to make up for the mistake of trusting Clay with the most precious person in her world.

She hated herself for being such a damned fool. She hated Clay even more, but when she’d seen him dangling from the balcony, she had jumped off a roof to help him without a second thought. She ought to have her head examined. Maybe she would, as soon as Jasper was safe. She’d never been a fan of giving people with inferior intelligence access to her mental space—for all her faults she had an incredibly high IQ—but she clearly needed professional help.

Only a crazy person would still love a man who had done all the things Clay had done to her, and only a glutton for punishment would be tempted to believe his lies about loving her. He didn’t love her, and he hadn’t really been coming to get her when Marlowe arrived.

For all she knew he was planning to ditch her at the first opportunity.

“Where are we going?” she whispered as Clay finally got the paint-sticky lock on the window to open. “I need an address in case we get separated.”

“We won’t get separated.” He popped out the screen and set it carefully down on the floor beside them. “And the address won’t do you much good without my fingerprint to gain access. When we get to the ground, stick close to me and keep your head down. Let me set the pace. We don’t want to move too quickly or we’ll attract attention.”

He leaned out the window, surveying the alley below before easing out onto the fire escape and motioning for her to follow.

Pulse speeding, Harley crawled out onto the landing and followed him down the softly creaking stairs without a word. She didn’t like letting him take point, but Clay clearly knew what he was doing and he seemed to want her alive. She would do what he told her to do until they reached the safe house.

After that, all bets were off.

At the bottom of the fire escape, Clay left the ladder leading to the ground folded in place, choosing to jump the eight feet down to the street. He landed with a soft thud and turned, lifting his arms up to her. Lip curling, Harley jumped, deliberately aiming her body out of his reach. Pain flashed through her already sore shins as she landed, but it was worth it not to have his hands on her again.

His hands lied even better than his mouth. Last night, his hands had convinced her that she was loved and treasured for exactly who she was for the first time in her entire life. Even a few minutes ago, back in that stranger’s apartment, the way he’d gripped her face had said that he was a man who realized something precious was slipping through his fingers.

But that was just another lie, another game, and she couldn’t afford to play anymore.

“When we get to the end of the block, we’re going to pause at the edge of the crowd gathered around the body,” he said, throwing a casual arm around her shoulders as they started down the alley. “Most people can’t resist a train wreck and our job right now is to blend in with most people.”

Her throat tightened as the memory of Liam, his skull shattered on the pavement, flashed behind her eyes. That could so easily have been Clay. If he hadn’t reached out to grab that railing, the man with his arm around her wouldn’t be alive for her to hate anymore.

The thought shook her, sending a confusing mixture of relief and self-loathing swirling beneath her skin. It was a miserable feeling, but it kept her mind off the fact that she was about to walk past a dead body and more of Marlowe’s men no doubt hiding in plain sight, searching the crowd for her face, ready to shoot her down.

She stayed close to Clay’s side as they stopped at the edge of the pulsing crowd, her brow furrowing as she caught glimpses of the blood-spattered concrete through breaks in the press of bodies. The strange melody of Czech voices murmuring in distress surrounded her like a swarm of bees buzzing across her skin. After a moment, the crowd shifted and the hair at the back of her neck rose. She was certain she could feel eyes on her, studying her profile, but she didn’t turn to see who might be looking.

She had no weapon and the street was too crowded for there to be any chance of a swift escape. Her best shot at living to find Jasper was to do exactly as Clay said—blend in. She was just a Czech girl out with her boyfriend who had seen something awful and unexpected.

With a soft sound of distress, she turned and leaned into Clay, wrapping her arms around his waist. He hugged her closer, murmuring something in what sounded like German before he turned, guiding her slowly away from the crowd. They reached the corner bakery and turned left, crossing the street with a small group of stragglers as the crosswalk indicator began to flash red.

“Don’t turn back,” Clay whispered, still holding her close to his side. “A man in a gray vest was watching you when we stopped. He might have just been amazed by how pretty you look in a ball cap, but let’s not take any chances.”

“I’m sure that was it,” she muttered tightly, fighting the urge to break into a run as they reached the other side of the street. Instead, she looped her arm around Clay’s waist and slipped her hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Is this junior high?” he asked.

“No, it’s Europe,” she said, keeping her chin tucked, the better to conceal her face. “Cheesy public displays of affection are normal here.”

“I didn’t know that.” He paused in front of a vintage record store, with a cutout of circa 1980s Madonna in the window and pink streamers faded from exposure to the sun dangling from the top of the display. “I’ve spent most of my time in the Middle East. There it’s best not to look at the woman you’re dating in public, let alone touch her.”

Harley nudged him with her hip, silently encouraging him to get going. “So did you date a lot of women?”

“No.” He pulled his phone from his pocket as they ambled back out onto the sidewalk. “Only a few and nothing serious. I was undercover.”

“That must have been lonely.” She watched the taxis zipping by on the street, wondering how much longer they were going to pretend to be a couple out for a morning stroll before Clay would decide it was time to catch a cab.

“I’ve just sent for a car,” he said as if he could read her thoughts.

And he probably could. He was a better spy than she had given him credit for. He’d certainly fooled the shit out of her. The part of her that was still Stewart Mason’s daughter and had taken pride in being un-con-able was frothing at the mouth, furious that she’d been so easily taken for a ride.

“Estimated arrival in two minutes at the next intersection,” he murmured, tucking his phone back into his stolen jeans.

“Good,” she whispered. She was past ready to get out of here and to stop touching Clay. She hated that he still felt so solid and safe beside her, that her body was too stupid to know that he was nothing but trouble.

“As far as your other question, it was lonely, but I didn’t mind. I wasn’t looking for anything long term. I never got over the girl who got away.”

She pulled her hand from his pocket and crossed her arms at her chest. “Dom was the only live-in lover I’d had since I went into hiding. He’s the only one who knew about Jasper and wanted more from me than a little fun on a Friday night.”

She gazed up at Clay, keeping her tone mild as she added, “I wish he was still here. If I could, I would rewind time and beg him to stay. Or better yet, I would beg him to take Jasper and me with him, far, far away from you.”

“I don’t blame you.” Clay guided her closer to the curb, his hand at the small of her back, reminding her of their walks on the beach all those years ago. “I betrayed your trust, but I won’t do it again. As soon as I have the chance, I’ll film another confession. And this time, I won’t record your password while you’re uploading it to storage.”

Harley’s jaw dropped and she would have tripped over a crack in the concrete if Clay hadn’t reached out a hand to steady her.

“I corrupted the file you uploaded this morning,” he continued before she could demand clarification. “The confession is useless. There’s not a computer on earth that could get it to play. And I drugged you before I left you in bed this morning, to make sure you stayed unconscious while I took Jasper.”

Her chest burned with a scalding mixture of anger and shame. “Anything else you’d like to confess?”

“A couple of things,” he said, his expression impassive, “but now isn’t the time. The car’s here.”

He turned, lifting his arm to signal the driver who was approaching from down the block. She was still reeling when the station wagon lurched away from the curb minutes later, carrying them to whatever address Clay had punched into his phone.

He had been planning this from the start.

Every kind word he’d said, every compassionate thing he’d done since the moment they faced each other down over the shotgun shells rolling back and forth across the floor of his boat in Thailand had been a lie.

Worse than a lie—an elaborate, calculated, prolonged deception.

The former revenge junkie inside of her couldn’t help but be impressed. But the woman she was now—a woman who just wanted a peaceful life for her son and someone she could trust not to let her down—was breathlessly, hopelessly sad. She’d been an easy mark and now Jasper was paying the price for it.

But at least she knew the truth now. She knew she couldn’t trust Clay, and if she were lucky enough to get another chance at a future with her son, she would be the one doing the double-crossing.

From here on out, Clay was her enemy, and every interaction would be a means to an end, a step on the road to a life without him in it.