Illya
“Theo! Theo, come on, it wasn’t that bad!” Grabbing his hand to stop him storming into the complex, I couldn’t help but frown at how utterly freaked out Theo was even as he shot me a nasty glance over his broad shoulder. “You didn’t die. That’s all you asked, remember?”
“You areneverdriving again!” Jerking his hand from mine, he practically spit in my face, and I tensed when his eyelid twitched as it came close to me, so close I could count his lashes. “Don’t you fucking pull that shit around on me. You shortened a four-hour drive to one and a half!”
“W-well, yeah. Carlyle said not to take forever, and I knew driving hurts your arm.” Sputtering a little in the full face of Theo’s rage, I tried to take a step back, but he followed, and I gasped when he grabbed my biceps. His short, sharp nails dug into my skin, and his eyes flashed as they narrowed into slits. “That hurts.”
“It’s a fucking miracle we made it back. Never,everagain!” Hissing at me, Theo’s spittle splattered on my chin, and my heart stuttered when he shook me. “You understand!”
“I . . . I understand.” Releasing me with a slight shove to jerk the door open, Theo left me in the parking lot, and I exhaled a shaky, thin breath. Glancing down at my arm, the deep crescents of his fingernails were prominent, a white half-moon in a sea of reddening flesh. My gaze followed a white line on the pavement, up the brick wall, and the courtyard that served as a parking lot enclosed by it. A bridge connected two buildings, technically, one for living and one for working.
“Oh.” Hanging my head as I reached to cup my biceps, I frowned at the asphalt, and my face grew hot as my skin stung where Theo’d grabbed me. “It’s not like he told me to slow down.”
That was just an excuse and not a very good one. Maybe, driving one hundred ten wasn’t the best idea, but I wanted to get back as fast as possible. Carlyle didn’t sound happy from what snippets I’d caught, and . . .
“Everything alright out here?” Slithering out the door like a snake, Carlyle frowned down at me, and I huffed as I crouched down on the balls of my feet. “I take it all’s not paradise on the island, huh?”
“He doesn’t like how fast I drove.” When I moved my lips, I could taste him, and Carlyle hummed softly in acknowledgment. An ugly blotch spread across my chest, and I sat back on the hot concrete with a grunt. “What’s going on that you wanted us back?”
“I wantedyouback, Illya. Theo’s off today, all day. Anyway, we’ve got some shit to talk about. I guess out here’s not a bad place. It’s probably not bugged, at least.” Leaning against the wall to slide down, Carlyle pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his dress pants, and I took the one he offered me. He sparked up, wordlessly passing me the lighter, and I took a huge drag trying to fill the gaping hole that’d opened up inside me. “So, someone is two-timing me, and your job as of right now is to find out who.”
“That’s some useful information, there, Carlyle.” Running my hands through my hair, I suddenly wished I’d spent a little more time with Carlyle instead of being lazy as all Hell. “How many languages do you speak?”
“English, Spanish, and German. I can understand Mandarin enough to get the gist of a conversation, but I always have a translator just in case.” I ran my hand through my hair, my lips clamping down on the cigarette butt, and the toxic fumes filled my lungs but didn’t leak out. “There’s no bugs anywhere. My tech experts are good. I cycle out my aides, so no one stays as long as this has been going on.”
“Why would you assume it’s someone here and not whoever you’re doing business with? You’ve already considered it, right?” Carlyle nodded, and I flopped my head back to exhale loud and heavy. My mind whirred slowly, dragged down by images of Theo when I blinked, and I scrunched up my nose in distaste. “How often do you swap out your cleaning ladies? The same chick has come by my place twice a week since I got here.”
“I’ve never swapped them out. There’s a reason these buildings are connected— work stays at work.” Tilting my head down, my question must’ve blazed from my eyes, and Carlyle’s brows knit tightly. “Unless someone decided they were too good for the rules. It’s not like I have a guard or someone personally check everyone going through the bridge.”
“You should conduct a raid, or trick some stupid assholes into thinking it’d be a good idea.” Sucking on the butt of my cigarette, I shrugged at Carlyle’s quizzical expression. “When I was homeless, the police would raid the shelters every couple months for people hiding out there after committing crimes. I’ve been arrested a few times because of it because of Sylvie back when she would steal for drug money. Back then, they’d wait until the shelters all filled up, and then they’d hit them at the same time.”
“I find it hard to believe that the police had that much manpower.” Skepticism and intrigue infected his tone, and I shrugged as I exhaled my lungful through my nose.
“Two cops show up at the shelter, and any homeless person knows they got nothing to do with it, we stay down. Normal people see the cops, assume they already know what they did, and try to bolt.” Carlyle grunted in acknowledgment of my point, and I sniffed hard as I stared at the white line on the concrete. “If you don’t know how then you just have to find out. And not be suspicious about it.”
“Right . . . and how do you suggest that, Illya?”
“Fake a raid.” Carlyle barked a shocked laugh, but I was deadly serious, and my lips thinned around my smoke. “I’m serious. You obviously have access to the people that can pull it off. The issue isn’t even the believability of the raid after it started— it’s getting everyone together without arousing suspicion that something’s wrong. Obviously, you don’t want to put your people through that if the dude doesn’t even show up. That’d be an answer in itself, though, I guess.”
“I’ll consider it. Before we resort to such a drastic measure, I want you to listen to all the conversations I’ve been having and the threats I’ve been receiving. I’ve had them sent to your apartment.” Nodding listlessly, I rested my chin on my knees as my mind wandered and became far, and the line began to blur on the asphalt. “Illya, are you sure you’re alright?”
“Do you ever feel really far away from someone even though they’re right next to you?” My gaze flickered up, and Carlyle’s expression tightened and walled up like the brick stretching sixty feet above us on all sides. Taking a drag of his own cigarette, he held his breath for a long second, and I tilted my head to rest my cheek on my knees. “I don’t know what it is. I can’t figure out what about me is so . . . so small, and I don’t get why this is happening. We had a fight this morning about sex. I don’t even want to have sex with him, really. I just want to be close to him, but he keeps pushing me away.”
“Is it about your chest?” His voice was surprisingly soft and tender, and I nodded as much as I could at that angle before he sighed heavily. “You can’t hide behind those bandages forever, Illya. I don’t blame Theo for wanting you to take them off, but you can’t really be upset because he’s mad you won’t. If you can’t have all of a person, there’s no point in having any part of them. Despite what people try to say . . . ”
“Why did you give me these two months off?” My question must’ve been what he expected this time, and Carlyle crouched down in front of me. His cigarette hung out of his mouth, and he looked really, really . . . kindhearted. Plopping his palm on my head, he snatched his smoke with his free hand before offering me the tiniest, brokenhearted smile I never thought I’d see on him.
“You remind me a lot of my sister right before she killed herself. Lost, listless, unable to do anything because you’re so out of touch with yourself. It’s not the same, I know. She was lost because our dad raised her to not be anything, not care about anything, not do anything for herself. The opposite is just as true, Illya. You care too much, youaretoo much, you do too much.” My eyes widened as surprise rocketed through me, and Carlyle chuffed softly before standing up and fixing the crack in his demeanor. His expression closed like an iron shutter, and I stood on stiff legs before he spoke up again. “Fix whatever is going on between you two. I need all your focus on this, and I need the man guarding my body not to be distracted. If you need more incentive than your own . . . I’ll kill you, Illya, because I won’t tolerate drama interfering with the job.”
A dense lump formed in my throat, and I nodded before Carlyle flicked his cigarette before opening the door for me.
