Last Kiss (14 page)

“So,” I said to Joe, swallowing the bubble of heartache in my throat. “Interested in taking me out?”

“Um. Sure.” Joe’s reluctant response told me both that he didn’t much care to be a pawn in my argument with Reeve, and that even so, he was on my side.

“Awesome,” I said with a smile brighter than I felt. “Give me thirty minutes to clean up.”

Joe didn’t ask where I wanted to go, and I didn’t mind. We drove into town without talking. When he’d pulled over and I looked up, we were at The Four Seasons Resort.

“Brent recommended the grill,” he said, as the valet opened my door. “More meat and potatoes, but I think that’s standard fare around here.”

Joe respectfully let me brood in silence until we were seated and our waiter had brought our drink orders. Then he stretched and scratched at the back of his neck. “You made a great point earlier about the ranch being a potentially unsafe place at the moment.”

“You think so?” It had sounded good when I’d said it, but not because I was particularly worried about safety. At least, not my own. “I’m only concerned about Amber. I’m not anyone’s target.”

“Not that you know, anyway.”

I raised an inquisitive brow. “You think that article yesterday really makes me that vulnerable?”

“Maybe.” He swirled the Wild Turkey around in his tumbler. “He’s not coming after her because of affection. You don’t win back the girl that you love by killing dogs.”

“This isn’t about love,” I agreed before taking a sip of my merlot.

“Right. It’s about exerting ownership. And I don’t think it’s just about him believing she owes him. It’s about Vilanakis wanting to take away Sallis’s prized possession.”

I cringed inwardly at the label he’d given Amber. “Which is why she’s not safe.”

“Except Amber’s not really the one who’s his prized possession these days, is she?” He let that settle over me as he tossed back his drink in one gulp.

It was an arguable point, and my first instinct was to say that there was no way that Vilanakis could know much about me, but I realized that wasn’t true. Someone had gotten to Jenkins, and that same someone could very well have seen Reeve and me arguing by the corral or embracing on the back deck or making love on the porch swing.

“No wonder Reeve hadn’t wanted me to leave the ranch. Why did he let me in the end?”

“It’s not because he doesn’t care. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

It irritated me that he could read my thoughts so easily. “Since you know so much, then why? Because he didn’t want to cause a scene? I don’t really think that Reeve cares so much about keeping the peace.”

“My guess is that he doesn’t want to worry you. Probably the same reason he doesn’t want to tell you about that e-mail.”

The waiter arrived then with our dinner and so the questions brought up by his speculation faded into musings that I mulled over as I cut into my fish. It was a nice thought – the idea that Reeve wanted to protect me from knowledge that might make me anxious. But it didn’t fit his M.O. Reeve was secretive because he liked to hold all the cards. When he wanted to protect someone he gave them “babysitters” and brought in extra guards.

I glanced around the restaurant wondering suddenly if Tabor had been sent to follow me but didn’t see him anywhere.

God, what was wrong with me? I’d been mad when he’d tried to keep me from leaving, and I was hurt when he’d let me go. Reeve was right – there was no winning with me.

I set down my fork, my appetite having vanished. “How long are you planning to stick around here? Around the ranch, I mean.”

Joe took a swallow of his water before answering. “Trying to get rid of me?”

I smiled, but it faded quickly. “I was thinking maybe it was time for me to go home.”

“Are you wanting to leave Kaya or leave Reeve?”

I didn’t
want
to leave either. I
needed
to.

But I didn’t bother correcting him. “Both?” It was only one word but it was harder to say than I’d thought it would be. I’d missed Amber, and I wanted so much to work on rebuilding our friendship. Especially after hearing how much she’d struggled with worthlessness and how vulnerable I sensed she was.

But if I were to stick around, I wasn’t sure that I could resist Reeve. Even if he continued to love us both, as I suspected he would. It would torment me and shatter me to pieces, and I knew myself well enough to know that I’d very likely end up falling back into his bed or his barn or his porch swing. And when Amber found out – because she would – the discovery wouldn’t help repair our friendship or her sense of worthlessness or lessen her vulnerability.

The only chance to save her was to leave. And wasn’t that what all of this had been about anyway? Saving her?

“I just need to go home,” I said, reinforcing my decision.

Joe nodded. “I want to go back to Chicago.”

“You want to keep investigating Vilanakis.”

“I do.” He took a bite of his steak.

I tried not to be disappointed. Joe wasn’t my only option to get home. He was just the easiest.

“But I need to go back to LA first. Take care of a few things before I head anywhere else. Wanna ride?”

“Really? Even if I might draw attention from the man you’re after?”

“Sure. Why not?” He was a smart man. He knew what kind of burden I’d be. “When could you leave?”

Though I knew that it was the right thing to go, I still let myself search for reasons to stay, even one day longer.

I couldn’t find any. “As soon as you like.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’ll start packing as soon as we get back.”

While Joe settled the bill, I told him I’d meet him in the lobby and excused myself to go to the restroom.

On my way out, my head was down and so I didn’t notice the figure in front of me until I bumped into him. “Oh, excuse me.” I stepped to the side to get out of his way, but he stepped with me. I laughed awkwardly and stood in place, gesturing for him to pass.

He didn’t.

He stood solidly in front of me, like a barricade.

I raised my eyes to look at him. He wore a black suit. His hair and complexion were dark and the lack of wrinkles on his face suggested he was younger than I was. And though I was certain we’d never met, there was something familiar about him. Something I couldn’t quite place.

“Ms. Wayborn,” he said with a trace of an accent, the same Mediterranean accent that was present in many of Reeve’s employees. So he’d sent a bodyguard after all.

“You’re one of Reeve’s men, aren’t you? I’m here with Joe, and he can take care of me just fine, thank you very much. So you can go back and report to your boss, or don’t, whichever you want. Just leave me be.”

He took a step closer. “Are you entirely certain that Joe
can
take care of you? I don’t see him around. In fact,” he scanned the empty hallway, “I don’t see anyone right now. Do you?”

My palms went clammy and my throat, dry. We were utterly alone, I realized, and he was standing close. So close that I wasn’t sure I could get a scream out before he managed to clamp a hand over my mouth. And, besides, as the stranger unbuttoned the coat of his jacket, I could see the butt of a handgun at his waist.

I had no choice but to cooperate.

With my heart thudding in my chest, I stood up straighter, hoping to seem braver than I felt. “What do you want from me?”

My skin itched as his eyes swept crudely down my body. “How kind of you to ask.” His cruel smile made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. “Unfortunately, it’s not what
I
want that’s important. It’s what my
father
wants. And, at the moment, he’d like to talk to you.”

“Who’s your father?” I asked, studying his features. His expression was so familiar, that all of a sudden it clicked. I
had
seen him before, once. In the middle of the night. During an online poker game Reeve had been playing with his cousins.

So, though my heart skipped a beat and I suddenly felt drenched with sweat, I wasn’t surprised when the man delivered his father’s name. “Michelis Vilanakis.”

With the stranger’s hand gripped tightly around my upper arm, he led me farther down the hall to a service elevator. There, he let me go to swipe a card across the access reader then punched the call button.

I studied him as we waited for the doors to open. “You’re Reeve’s cousin. Petros, right? Online poker.”

“Good memory. Tell him he owes me a chance to win my money back sometime soon. He’s been too busy as of late to join any of our games.” His cordial temperament was both impressive and chilling. It was a trait that reminded me of the stereotypical mob men I’d seen on television. But there were things that were not at all what I’d have expected from a man with Mafia ties. For one thing, his scruffy face and coiffed hair made him look like an art student or grunge model rather than a hoodlum. And his boyish mannerisms made him seem innocent, and with Vilanakis as a father, I was sure he was anything but.

“I’ll give him the memo.” I laced my hands together in an attempt to stop their shaking while I tried to assess the level of danger I was in. With his tough guy demeanor and steely confidence, Petros would have been formidable even without a gun. But he interacted regularly with Reeve online, and he knew we were in a relationship. Surely he wouldn’t hurt me. Out of respect, like Reeve had said.

Of course, that had been before someone – possibly even Petros – had snuck onto the ranch and killed a dog in order to leave a very pointed message.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked when the elevator doors opened and Petros gestured for me to go inside.

“My father’s room is on the penthouse floor,” he said simply.

I swallowed as I stepped in, glancing up to note the security camera in the corner, wondering what chance I’d have if I tried to signal for help or hit the emergency button.

But Petros was too close behind me for me to try anything. He pushed the button for the top floor then leaned against the elevator wall and cocked his head at me. “You don’t need to look so terrified,” he said with a sneer.

“Right. Because I’m completely safe and I can expect to walk away shortly without a hair touched on my head.”

He chuckled. “Well. I didn’t say that. But I’ll tell you this.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a heavy whisper. “The more scared you look, the more my father likes it.”

My breathing grew shallow and I jumped as the elevator announced our floor. Again Petros laughed then nudged me out the door, following close behind. My eyes darted back and forth as we walked down the hallway, hoping to find a route of escape or a hotel maid or a guest who could help me. But there was no one, and soon we had stopped in front of a pair of double doors.

Petros raised his hand to knock, but I stopped him. “Joe is just downstairs. He’ll be worried when I don’t return. He’ll call Reeve and he won’t be happy if anything happens to me.”

“I’m sure that’s true, Blondie. But, in case you haven’t figured this out, my father doesn’t give a flying fuck about anyone’s happiness but his own.” His words settled heavily over me as he rapped on the door in a peculiar little rhythm that I suspected was some sort of code. I also suspected it would be changed to something new the minute I left.

After a few seconds, the doors opened, and a petite, Middle Eastern–looking woman in a simple housedress stepped aside to let us in. She didn’t say anything in greeting, didn’t meet my eyes, and kept her head bowed as we walked in, and even before I caught the tip of the V tattoo on her collarbone, I wondered if she was there of her own free will.

The suite entrance opened into a luxurious grand room with a stone fireplace and a private balcony. To the left was a dining room large enough to seat ten. Beyond that, the circular-shaped kitchen was probably double the size of my own. In fact, the whole unit was probably double the size of my house in Los Angeles. At least that. To the right was a hallway that, I guessed, led to the bedrooms.

As I turned back toward my hosts, my eye caught on the stack of magazines and newspapers piled on the coffee table. Or, rather, on one magazine in particular –
Us Weekly,
an entertainment periodical that seemed blatantly out of place among the likes of the
Wall Street Journal, Forbes,
and
Business Insider
. I nudged aside the
New Yorker
that lay partially on top of it, and, there, on the cover, was a familiar face – Chris Blakely.

My heart sank as I read the accompanying headline: CHRIS TELLS ALL.
The actor spills about his upcoming nuptials, his struggle with addiction, and his theory behind Missy Mataya’s death that includes cover-ups, government bribes, and the Greek mob.

Goddammit, Chris,
I muttered quietly. Despite running his mouth, I’d held out hope that he’d remained under Vilanakis’s radar. Apparently not.

“Please, have a seat,” the woman said in a thick accent, interrupting my fretting. I looked up as she swept her hand out toward the sofa and the oversized chair at its side. With her arm held out, I could see a trail of yellowed bruises running along her skin as well as a series of circular burns – from a cigar, maybe. If I hadn’t been sure she was abused before, I was now.

My stomach churned. Ignoring her offer to sit, I bent to meet her gaze. “I’m Emily. And you are…?”

The woman’s eyes grew wide then flew from mine to Petros’s, as if afraid she’d be punished because I’d addressed her.

Turned out she wasn’t wrong.

He backhanded across her hard across the face. “Did I give you permission to look at me?”

Rage and fear flared inside me, and I had to count silently to ten to calm myself before I did something else stupid, like, try to defend her.

The girl mumbled an apology and Petros responded with something in Greek, which I figured was a directive of some sort since she left the room then.

“Maya’s a sweet girl,” Petros said when she’d left. “Gives the best head too.”

“Does she now? Hopefully next time, she’ll bite your dick off.” I sounded sure of myself, which was surprising. I prayed he couldn’t see the sweat forming on my brow, couldn’t hear the rapid firing of my pulse.

“Now that’s uncalled for,” he tsked. “It’s her duty to suck me off, and she’s never complained.”

I blew out a stream of hot air and told myself to drop it.

But I was too pissed and worked up to be self-controlled. “Her duty, why? Because she owes you? What – did you take care of her ex-husband or pay for her mother’s surgery or feed her drug habit and then tell her she couldn’t leave until she paid you back?”

“Something like that.”

I rolled my eyes, which he noticed.

“You really want to know about Maya?” His tone was sharp. “Then I’ll tell you. Her father owed my family money. When we came to collect, he couldn’t pay. He gave us Maya instead.”

“Jesus,” I whispered under my breath.

“So you see, she’s ours.” He circled around me as he talked, slowly, like a vulture. “She does what we want, when we want it. If I want her to make me a pot roast, she’ll make me a pot roast. If I want her to answer the door, she answers the door. If I want to fuck her in the throat, then she’ll swallow every goddamn drop.”

“That’s horrible. You’re horrible, vile people.” I couldn’t bear to think of Amber in this situation, and yet it was the main thing on my mind.

“Sure. Whatever. Call names. I’m just telling you how it is so you won’t be surprised when my father decides you’re in his debt as well.”

I bit back my gasp. “You’re just trying to scare me.”

He smirked. “Maybe so. Doesn’t mean I don’t also mean it.”

“Petros,” a thick masculine voice snapped from behind me followed by a string of conversation in Greek.

I turned to find a broad-shouldered middle-aged man had entered the room. I’d seen Michelis in pictures so I recognized him easily, but in person, he was both more formidable and more attractive than photos portrayed him. While his slicked-back hair was graying at the temples and his eyes were creased with age, he appeared to be in excellent physical condition. He was handsome, and I may have even thought he was sexy if I didn’t know so much about him. If I didn’t know what he was capable of. If I didn’t know his hands could hurt and punish and break down.

It struck me – those were the types of men I was normally drawn to. Had I finally found a man who was a hard limit? Or was every man a hard limit if he wasn’t Reeve?

“Emily Wayborn,” Michelis exclaimed, crossing to me. When he reached me, he put his hands on my upper arms and greeted me in the European style with a kiss to each cheek.

Horror and adrenaline slid down my spine, automatically causing me to straighten my posture. I should have been prepared for that, and I hadn’t been. But more concerning was how unprepared I was for all of it.

“Hello,” I said smoothly, recovering as much poise as possible.

His lip curled up, and the gleam in his eye said he’d seen every beat of my reaction to him – my assessment, my apprehension, my regrouping. He’d seen it, he’d remember it. He’d use it if he could.

Despite all that, he was polite and hospitable. “I’ve heard so much about you, Emily – may I call you that?” He didn’t wait for my response. “It feels like I already know you.”

My skin prickled, and I had to scold myself to keep composed.
He doesn’t know me. It’s his way of manipulating the situation, making me feel both welcome and uncomfortable all at once.
I’d seen this trick played before. I wouldn’t let it get to me.

“I wish I could say the same. I feel, however, like we’re perfect strangers.” I hoped it was a good move, dismissing any knowledge of him as if he were insignificant.

His smile fell slightly. “Well, we shall get to know one another now. For me, it’s an honor to finally meet the face behind the name. Or should I say, behind the voice.”

“I’ve heard that one before, I’m afraid.” I sighed. As if I were bored.

“I’m sure you have.” He lost the grin altogether now. “I wasn’t going for originality. I was going for an icebreaker. Can Petros get you anything before he leaves? Coffee? A glass of wine?”

“Uh, no.” At the last minute, I added, “Thank you.”

“Water, perhaps?”

His persistence didn’t necessarily mean he had ill intentions. He could simply have been attempting to put me at ease.

Still, I was smart about bad men. “I’m not going to accept anything you have to offer, thank you, Mr. Vilanakis.”

“Call me Micha, please.” With a nod of his head, he dismissed Petros, who disappeared down the hall.

And now we were alone.

“Have a seat, Ms. Wayborn. Make yourself at home.” He thrust his hands in his pockets, relaxed but in command. He reminded me of a lion lying in the sun, his eyes half closed, comfortable as king. If a mouse tried to sneak past him, all he’d have to do was stretch out his paw, and he’d catch the sucker in its tracks.

All I had to do, then, was watch out for that paw. Easy enough.

I circled the coffee table, putting space between us, casual despite the cocktail of adrenaline and foreboding that hummed in my blood. Once I’d distanced myself as well as I could, I spun to face him. “Why am I here?”

“Ah, right to the heart of things. No beating around the bush.” He’d beat enough around the bush for me, it seemed.

“That isn’t an answer to my question.”

“No, it’s not. I’ll get there momentarily. Please. Sit.”

I remained on my feet. “My friend is downstairs. I’m sure he’s looking for me already. Reeve will come looking for me as well.”

“Only time for a short chat today, then. What a pity.”

It was naïve to assume that a short chat meant he intended to let me go. But I clung to that notion all the same. He’d intimidate me, he’d bully me. But he’d let me walk away. He had to.

Michelis gestured at the armchair, wanting to put me at ease, I was sure. Wanted me to sit, unwind. Let him call the shots.

At another time, I might have played it that way.

With Michelis – I would never use the nickname Amber used – I didn’t have the time or the patience. I would not sit. I would not unwind. He would not call the shots.

“Why am I here?” My tone was even but insistent.

“I wanted to meet you.” He could have had a hundred different motives, none of them were clear.

I guessed at the most obvious. “Are you going to slip me your number and let me know you’re available after I’m done with Reeve?”

“Amber’s told you how we met. How dear of her.” Sugar drenched his words, so much so that they became insincere. If he’d felt any fondness for her, it hadn’t run deep. His eyes narrowed as he openly perused my body like a man checking out a horse. “She was an exception, though. I don’t believe I’ll make a habit of indulging in my nephew’s leftovers.”

“Then we’re mutually not attracted to each other,” I said brazenly. “That’s perfect.” As long as I was being bold… “Tell me something – why Amber?”

He tilted his head as if considering his answer, though I was sure he had a formulated answer at the ready for this as well. “We had a lot in common,” he said carefully. “We’d both been betrayed by the same man.”

“Reeve.” I couldn’t decide if
he
really believed that or if it were just the story he wanted
me
to believe.

“Beyond that, I found her entertaining.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, hoping he didn’t notice my shudder, “You mean you found it entertaining to abuse and demean her?”

Michelis frowned. “As her friend, I’m sure you well know Amber is a passionate woman. I’m also a passionate man. Perhaps we sometimes got carried away.”

“‘
We
got carried away’?” I practically laughed, a sound that was based as much in nervousness as scorn. “I don’t see you nursing any injuries.”

“Now, Emily. Please. I know you aren’t a woman who believes that all wounds can be seen by the eye. Let’s not pretend that you are.” His attempt at sympathy failed.

He did, however, have me unsettled. He’d been in my presence for all of five minutes, and I’d already learned that he was a master at communicating in dual meanings. It was distressing that he could do it so easily and terrifying how he managed to see inside me so clearly. How did he know that I was someone who understood both physical and emotional abuse well enough to react to the hint of unseen scars?