“Yeah, I know what’s going on down there,” he admits. “But for once my dick is not part of this conversation.” He sucks his teeth. “I know I can’t look at you without wantingto fuck you. I love the way you move, how you smell, how you taste, how you say my name when you come.” His voice grows husky and for a second it looks like he’s lost his train of thought. “But there’s more to us than just sex. You might blow my dick like a goddess, but you blow my mind like… I don’t know.” His eyes sparkle. “Like the trigger-happy assassin I fell for.”
His final comment unnerves me. He called me an assassin. Is that what I am? Is that what Ilya expects of me?
Chapter 23
Quinn
Ifeel conspicuous walking through Chicago with two burly bodyguards trailing my every move, but at least I know one of them. I like Levi. He’s the kind of guy who does the job he’s paid to do. He protects but he doesn’t judge, and when I ask him where I can get a burner phone, he simply directs me towards a dingy backstreet.
After picking up what I need, I head for the nearest department store to shop for clothes and toiletries – anything to make me feel like a normal person for a while. Unfortunately, there’s a minor altercation outside the store as I’m jostled in the crowd, and Levi almost comes to blows with some old guy. Forced to accept that this shopping trip is nothing close to normal, we head back to the hotel.
Reaching the penthouse suite unscathed, I find it as empty as when I left. This place is unlike any other hotel room I’ve ever stayed in. It’s sleek and modern with a living and dining space on one level and two bedrooms on a mezzanine above. That’s where I head with my shopping bag.
I leave my usual cell phone in my purse downstairs onthe dining table. If Mace has planted any spyware, he might be able to use my phone as a listening device, and I don’t want anyone listening in when I call Strider. He’s the only one I can be completely open with while I’m caught up in Ilya’s web.
The bathroom seems the best place to hide from any hidden cameras, and I run the shower to make it as difficult as possible for a bug to pick up our conversation. I’m probably being overcautious, but that’s my life now.
I sit on the floor, my back resting against a roll top bath as I take out my new burner phone. I’m about to discard the shopping bag when I feel the weight of something else inside. I’d watched the salesman slip my one and only purchase into an empty bag. So why is there a small, tightly wrapped package in there too?
Someone must have slipped it into the bag after we left. Shit. That little altercation with my bodyguards was a diversion. The package is from Ilya. I just know it.
I tear at the wrapping and two items drop onto the tiled floor. The smaller glass object tinkles as it rolls away. It’s a vial containing clear liquid with no label. The other object is easier to identify. A small flip phone.
My hand trembles as I open it. It’s an old model with basic functionality, and there’s only one number stored in its memory.
It’s been three fucking days. That’s not a sabbatical. If Ilya’s expecting me to call him like a good little pet, he can go to hell. I’m in no rush to hear what he has planned for me next. My gaze flits to the vial and I snatch it up. There’s a balcony I can access downstairs. If I throw his little gifts away, Ilya can’t get to me. Not yet.
Damn him. I’m not ready to give up the illusion of a forever with Reid.
When the phone rings, I gasp in shock. It clatters to the floor as I draw up my legs and rest my forehead on my knees. If I don’t answer, Ilya can’t control me, I tell myself. I repeat that mantra in my head until the ringing stops.
The bathroom has filled with steam from the shower, but it’s sweat that beads my brow. I’m not expecting Ilya to give up easily, and a few seconds later, I hear a notification.
I pick up the phone and flip it closed without looking. I’m determined to go through with my plan to throw everything away, but when I glance at the door, I can’t move.
How many times had Blake and I locked ourselves in the bathroom when Mom was on a bad trip, or in a vicious mood because she couldn’t get her fix? I was always the one to open the door to make sure the threat was gone. But Blake isn’t hiding behind me this time. She’s with Ilya. What if he’s angry? What if she’s scared? What if…
Flipping open the phone, the message pops up immediately.
Unknown: It’s me. I need you. Please Jade.
I sink back onto the tiles. She doesn’t identify herself, but Blake is the only one who wouldn’t need to. I try to reason that whatever the crisis, my sister would be in even more danger if I let Ilya give me my next task and I refused. I almost convince myself, but when the phone rings again, I connect the call.
“Jade, thank god!” Blake sobs. Her throat rasps as if she’s been crying for a while. “I didn’t think you’d answer.”
“What’s wrong? Where are you?”
“At home. I just… I thought… Ilya said you wouldn’t answer, that you’d got involved with some bad people.”
My face creases with fury and frustration. “I’m not theone involved with bad people, Blake. Can’t you see that?” It’s as if we’ve been pulled back into the argument we had a year ago.
“I don’t think… Maybe neither of us are cut out for this kind of life,” she concedes. “I wish we could just live out one of our dreams somewhere else. And we had so many dreams, didn’t we? Remember the one of us living in a clapperboard house close to the sea, stirring up trouble with our witchcraft?”
The vision we’d conjured as teens was inspired by the film, Practical Magic, and we’d had fun imagining a life where we could cast spells to slay our enemies and summon our heroes. I’d reminded Blake of that dream when I’d tried to get her away from Ilya that first time. I feel a tiny spark of hope. Has she finally listened?
“Would he let you leave?” I ask, resting my elbows on my knees.
“He wants me to be happy. But I don’t know… Why don’t you ask him?”
